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August 28, 2002
(*Some names have been changed to protect priacy.)
The IEP meeting that wasn’t and gaining a new friend and ally.
August 28, 2002 began like any other day. I was a little nervous about meeting with the IEP team but I was sure the meeting would go well. After all, they had Roan's report and the results were clear. Jaida needed speech therapy. I was watching the clock like a hawk all morning at work. I did not want to be late. I had made sure that Roan (our private speech pathologist) would be coming. When she so graciously offered to attend for moral support, I accepted with great relief. We agreed to meet at The Children’s Center where the preschool program was located. In my haste, I ended up leaving too early so I decided to go to a nearby school supply store to get the rest of the items on Jaida’s supply list. Sometimes, her teachers act like we all shop at Davie’s School Supply, much less know it exists.
I got what I needed and made it to Children’s Center right on time. I was a little worried that Roan was not there. I scanned the street for her car but I didn’t see it. I decided to go in and wait since it was sweltering outside. The Monsky Clinic shares the building and I was filled with ill feelings by just looking in their general direction. I suppose if I had never taken Jaida there, we would not have met Dr. Corbier. Then we might never have known about the seizures. I told the receptionist who I was there to see and sat down across from the window. I began to fidget and look frantically for Roan. Finally, *Carrie, a member of the team walked up. I told her I was waiting for Roan because she was going to sit in on the meeting. She looked annoyed as she explained that Roan had an office in the building with the Early Intervention Program and she would know where to find us. I had a weird feeling about that but I followed her down the hallway.
Carrie took me into a room that was set up for preschool testing. The chairs were preschool-size too. I tried to sit squarely in a position that would inhibit my limbs from falling asleep. Sherry breezed in followed by a woman I had not met before. *Maggie, whom I remember meeting once before maybe, followed also. Sherry introduced the lady as a speech pathologist and said her name was *Lisa. I had wondered who the SLP listed on the team sheet that I got in the mail would be. We were just finishing the introductions when Roan came in looking a little flustered. It all went down hill quickly from there. I’m not sure when or how this train got derailed. I just remember looking at the wreckage and wondering how I made it out alive.
They all kept laughing at some joke that Roan and I were not in on. A few knowing glances were exchanged and then Carrie started talking. I felt like somebody had shot a starter pistol. “We looked at the test scores from my last visit to Montessori to see Jaida because when we got Roan’s report we thought maybe we had missed something. She was well above normal and then we saw Roan’s report we were confused. We saw that she got about the same scores.” She pulled out something that looked like a test sheet with a column for scores on the left side. “She is doing extremely well,” Carrie crowed while she continued to read out the scores. Almost like somebody flipped a switch, the others started spouting, “that’s great” and “wow” like a bad sitcom or a soap opera. Sherry was reciting her “wows” without even looking up from her furious scribbling, for crying out loud. My irritation grew by the second. I let out a loud sigh. Carrie stopped and said, “Isn’t this what you wanted to hear?” I said, “No, but go ahead.” She looked puzzled but she went on, with the peanut gallery backing her up all the way. I let her finish because so far, I was trying to be polite.
Poor Roan was trying to interject here and there but they dismissed her like a pesky fly at a picnic. She asked Lisa, the SLP about her meetings with Jaida. Lisa admitted that she had only met with Jaida once and Carrie had been running the session that day. She talked as if she were an observer only during this visit. She also admitted that she had never formally evaluated Jaida at that time. I wanted to scream, “Why were you even there then?!” Roan furrowed her brow and made some notes on her legal pad. They kept repeating the same crap about the one-word expressive and receptive vocabulary tests. Then they dropped the bomb. Based on their simple test, Jaida was no longer eligible for services. I was starting to detect the aroma of bovine fecal matter. And it was a big load. I could feel my blood pressure creeping up.
Then it was Sherry’s turn. She is the epitome of an antebellum southern belle. She was all honey and syrup with her sickening sweetness. I really hate to be patronized. She appealed to me “as a mother” and had the nerve to allude to the fact that maybe my expectations were too high. “You can certainly pursue private therapy,” she said in that molasses voice. As if I need her permission to take my child anywhere. I politely interrupted again, “If that were an option financially, we would not be here.” She kept on scribbling, refusing to look me in the eye. When she had thought of something to say that sounded as if she gave a rat’s behind it was less than earth shattering. In an attempt to appear serious and caring, she finally put down her pen. I was on the edge of my seat. What secret, what wisdom was she about to share with me?
“You know, Easter Seals offers therapy on a sliding scale. Would you like me to call and look into that for you?” I told her I was skeptical. We had been turned down before for income reasons at other places and I was sure this would be no different. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try,” she said. “Katy Wells is the speech pathologist over there. Do you want me to call and talk to her about Jaida?” I gave her my consent and relented to her attempts to ease her guilt. She looked around for a piece of paper to make herself a note. Eventually she gave up and motioned to the others with a wave, “Somebody remind to do that later.” “I’ll remind you,” Maggie said. I didn’t know who had spoken at first since Maggie had not said ten words the whole time. I was wondering why she was even there.
In a final attempt to ‘help’ me, Sherry added this. “We can reevaluate her in the spring. There are a lot more things you should be able to do at five than at four. If she doesn’t continue to progress, maybe we can get her back in the program then. Miss S, (Jaida’s teacher) is familiar with the program and how we operate. If she sees anything that she feels needs our attention, she will not hesitate to call us.” Just then, Carrie pipes up. “I’m still over there twice a week, I can check in with Miss S,” she said. Sherry goes a step further, “I don’t want you to think we’re throwing her to the wolves.” I was struck by her choice of words. Why ever would she think I felt that way I wonder? They had barely let me speak at this point.
Roan tried to ask more questions, they referred to several people she could call to get her answers. Then, the farce of a meeting was over. My protests were falling on deaf ears. They wouldn't even reconsider. They said they were bound by the rules of the state as to what test they could accept to determine eligibility. I was so disgusted, I was ready to pull a John Q. That was my signal to go higher up the food chain. Roan and I walked out together and I could tell she was about to burst. We tried to keep our voices low as we left the building quickly. At the front door, she said, “Where’s your car?” I nodded towards my Camry and she gathered her thoughts. She told me about a group of parents in the same boat as me trying to start a foundation. They all had children that saw Dr. Corbier. All had been turned away at some point by the public school system or the state. Roan kept apologizing for her colleagues’ behavior. She laughed and said, “They don’t like me.” I smiled and said, “I could tell.” She seemed taken aback, “Could you really?” “Oh yeah,” I snickered. I told her they reminded me of the Pink Ladies in the movie “Grease”. I said they were so junior high school it was pathetic. We laughed even harder. Roan said she had to use my analogy.
Then Roan got serious. She said she was considering seeing Jaida and letting us pay what we could each week. I could have danced a jig in the street. She said she was worried about what might happen if Jaida were not treated at all. She said she wanted to use the education that God had given her. She did say that she had to look at her schedule first. I told her to call me when she was ready, we would work with her schedule. I was ecstatic. I had prayed that we could somehow take Jaida to Roan because I felt that Roan was the best choice. She seemed so passionate about Jaida and she wanted to help us desperately.
I shared a little about how I had been searching for my purpose in life. Before I knew it, the tears flowed freely. I could not speak. Roan was hugging me and saying she knew I was scared and she understood. Soon, we were crying together in the street. I’m sure we were quite a sight. There was Roan, the middle aged white woman with silver hair hugging me, a chubby black lady, like a long lost relative. Both of us blubbering and not really caring who witnessed this display of raw emotion. As we turned to go, she asked if it was okay to give my number to the people coordinating the foundation. I said sure, I was grateful for any help I could get in this fight. Believe me when I say I intend to win and the entire school system will know who I am before it's over.
Kim, Jaida & Jarod
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Have you had to battle your local school system when you and the officials know your child needs services?
Have you ever done an appeal or a due process hearing?
Ever tried mediation?
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