Meetings--a hallmark of autism

Spring is here, and with it comes meetings. Reevaluation and IEP time. I feel for parents of newly diagnosed kids, as this can be a daunting experience if you don't know what to expect.
When Eli was three years and nine months old, I attended the first of many IEP meetings. Boy, what a difference a few years can make! That first meeting pretty much blew me out of the water. I think there were eight members of his team present, though the details are admittedly fuzzy now. What I do remember most of all was the feeling of defeat. I felt as though it was a session of "Let's pick apart every little idiosyncrasy this tiny kid has and make his parents feel like crap" though that was not the truth at all. I felt as though there were all these professionals present, and surely they must know what was best for him, and it made me feel like a failure as a parent. I cried afterward, though Miss Maggie and the other professionals present were quick to point out his strengths when I said something like "It seems like he has so many problems and nothing good in his favor."
Fast forward to today's meeting with his social worker at his current school. Totally different experience for me. I don't dread the meetings anymore, well, at least not so much. I feel far more empowered than I did back when he was a tiny tot. What made the difference? Knowledge. Experience. Confidence.
Knowledge with what his rights are under the law. Some of this has come from friends, most notably a dear friend in Alabama with a son a bit older than Eli. She has done this for years, and has been a valuable resource in so many ways. She advised me to research Wright's Law, so that I would be familiar with what Eli's rights are. Another great resource has been From Emotions to Advocacy, which I consult before important meetings that may have a contentious tone from the start. It helps me to put things into perspective--to take my emotions out of the equation for a while so that I can be the best advocate. Good advocates don't crumble into tears during meetings, nor do they make idle threats or lose their tempers. I am Eli's advocate as well as his mom, and I need to do the best job I possibly can.
Experience is very empowering for meetings. The unknown causes fear, uncertainty, maybe even a little dread thrown in for good measure. This is Eli's fifth year for an IEP. I know what to expect, how to prepare myself, and what to really fight for, if necessary. A good example of experience helping me was earlier in this school year, when there was no consistent aide for Eli assigned. He struggled daily for the first few weeks with different people being his helper (his term), and I could see immediately that this was causing problems. Rather than suffer in silence and wait for the school to deal with the situation, I insisted on ONE person being assigned and stuck to my guns. The problem was quickly resolved, with Eli thriving as a result. Without the experience of seeing what a consistent helper can do, I may have been content to allow the school to resolve the situation in a rather untimely fashion.
Confidence is priceless. I have limitless confidence when dealing with the schools at this point in time. I know without a doubt that I am going to get all that Eli is entitled to, and then some. I am no longer afraid of the meetings that help to define his educational experiences. Because that's what the meetings do, really.
I met with the school social worker today for an hour. We spoke at length about my sweet son and his social challenges, as well as his academic achievements. I don't hide our home life from them, as that would only hinder their efforts. Everything is laid out there--my divorce, the ever-changing occupancy of the house because of teenagers moving out and back in, the pets, the new boyfriend, the neighbors, Eli's ability to hold it all together at school all day only to let it all out at home. And I do know that he works so hard to hold it together, so if he loses it a little at home, oh well. I spoke about Eli's relationships at home with his siblings and how he loves the cats but merely tolerates the dogs. She spoke of how he is very loved at his school by adults and children alike--his inherent sweet nature and ready smile carrying him along. Both of us traded information, some of it uncomfortable to share, but all necessary for his success.
At the end of the meeting, she gave me the opportunity to share what I would like to see for Eli in the coming year. I said that I was frequently reminded of the movie The Incredibles, and a line that has stuck with me since I first heard it. "When everyone's special, no one will be." It was the scene was where Dash was discouraged from showing his talent, to hide it, so as not to diminish others' ability to run as fast as he could. I told her that I would like Eli to be praised for his successes publicly, rather than hiding them. I said, "No one thinks a thing about saying something to the effect of 'Joe is the best climber in the class!' or 'Cindy has the longest, prettiest hair!' but no one says anything like 'Eli can add numbers faster than anyone!'" So yeah. When he shines, I want people to notice, and he does shine in so very many ways. We all have gifts and we are all special, but in different ways. The fastest runner should not be the only one who gets noticed and praised.
Tomorrow is his IEP meeting. I am ready for it, and while I may jokingly say that I am putting on my game face, it's not really joking. I do have a game face, and it's ready to put on, should the need arise.