Dear Administrator:

Let’s pretend for a minute that you ordered a crystal vase online.  Delicate but hardy, elegant with some jagged edges.  Something that can be admired for its beauty and then a second later lay shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor with one mis-step.  When it arrives you read FRAGILE:  HANDLE WITH CARE in big bold letters on the package.

FRAGILE:  HANDLE WITH CARE

Now let’s apply that same statement to the parents of children with exceptional needs that you serve.  To quote Frida Kahlo, “She was not fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a bomb.”  Flowers are delicate and dainty.  That’s not us.  We’re hardy and resilient.  But that doesn’t mean we can’t be broken, our spirit imploding with the force that accompanies a lack of compassion.  This journey is a hard one.

I’m sure you can imagine what parents of children with significant needs navigate on a daily basis, which is now compounded by the weight of this never ending pandemic.  Just in case, let me share a snippet.  We’ll use yesterday for example.

Meltdown city in our house.  I navigated tears and shouts of discomfort from both of my children.  They were up early.  Clothes didn’t fit right, transitions were difficult, our older son was certain he couldn’t manage staying for after school camp,  and it took everything I had to keep it together.  And that was all before 6:30 AM.  Looming in the background is the fact that we’re currently appealing the decision of our insurance company to not fund the communication device our youngest son so desperately needs.  And we’re anxiously awaiting an appointment with neurology in a few weeks to determine if he’s having mini seizures.  We’re also terrified about the effects Covid-19 would have on his little body that is too young to be vaccinated.  So, much like other families, we’ve completely altered our life to ensure he is as safe as possible.  The weight is almost too heavy to bear at times.

Max is unable to wear a mask as a function of his disability.  So when the school district decided to go back to in-person learning we were forced to decide if we sacrificed his safety for interaction with his peers or if out of an abundance of caution we keep him at home amidst the current Covid surge.  That decision didn’t require much thought.  Of course we kept him home.  Is that the easiest option?  No.  Not in the least.  But it’s the right one.

While his older brother really struggles with virtual learning, Max thrives.  Removing the environmental stimuli of so many things for his senses to process at once has proven to allow him to focus more on engaging in activities in meaningful ways.  Sometimes more than he does during in-person learning.  And maintaining some semblance of his routine is critical for his development.  So when the decision was made to return in-person, we talked with his team and determined that he could participate in his small group for 30 minutes each day.  I mirror the activities his group is doing with him at home and he is able to interact virtually.  It works great.

And then, a few days into our new arrangement, out of nowhere, I received the following email.  Not a call, not a meeting.  An email.

Good morning,

Unfortunately, our district does not allow students to work virtually unless they are quarantining or isolating. 

Max will not be able to attend online lessons or complete Seesaw assignments to be counted present. 

This is beyond my control, as I do not make policy. If it were up to me, I would allow him to attend. 

Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

-Administrator

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————That was it.  Except it wasn’t, because I did in fact have questions.  

Beyond the initial “so what do we do now?”…..

• Did you advocate for us?
• Are you listening to the staff who work with and advocate for him every day?
• Do you understand that he is not a typical learner, so therefore may require a-typical learning strategies?
• Can you appreciate that education during unprecedented times may require unprecedented solutions? 
• Can you empathize with how difficult this time is for us and so many other families navigating situations like ours?  And can you recognize how a simple “this is what the district policy says, but my team is actively working on a solution to meet Max’s needs” builds a bridge of support between us rather than the “this is beyond my control, as I do not make policy. If it were up to me, I would allow him to attend” that I was instead met with?

Here’s where the fragile like a bomb part comes in.  Our life is such that we are constantly towing the line of managing what life throws at us and being in the state of a complete family crisis.  It’s the same as the aforementioned vase.  One mis-step, one curveball of circumstances out of our control and we’re no longer managing.  We are simply surviving, shattered into a thousand pieces strewn all over the hardwood floor.

FRAGILE:  HANDLE WITH CARE

I’ve learned that in difficult moments we need more grace.  All of us.  So I’m flipping the script and telling myself that maybe in this moment, you, too, are fragile.  Here I sit, handling you with care.

I know things are hard.  You and the staff you lead are being asked to do the impossible during difficult circumstances.  Almost every simple daily task has been altered in some way because of the pandemic and you have to be ready to pivot on a moment’s notice.  You have expectations from district administration, your staff, students and families.  And there’s quite frankly no way to ever make everyone happy.  You are in a thankless position and I can absolutely appreciate that.  

I recognize the need for policy, but I also know that when there is an IEP involved, there should at the very least be a conversation.  I have the utmost compassion for educators, like you, who are navigating unprecedented times with little support and even less time.  But in situations like this, even a little goes a very long way.  

I’m not asking that you make an exception solely for my child.  I’m asking that you advocate on behalf of all of the kids who need a little extra.  To consider what may seem like unconventional solutions during a time that is anything but conventional.  And if you are stuck between a rock and a hard place, let’s rally the troops together.  Parents are incredibly powerful when they use their voices for good.

Moving forward, let’s agree to meet each other where we are.  As families like mine are sending you a giant piece of our hearts completely unprotected every day, giving you the very best that we have, please greet us with a tiny bit of compassion.  A simple “gosh this is really hard and I can appreciate what you’re dealing with, but…” before the heavy hammer of “I don’t make the policy, I just enforce it. ” goes further than you could possibly imagine.

In return, I will meet you with grace and compassion as well, reminding myself that you’re likely receiving numerous other requests like ours and you’re only one person.  If and when it is warranted, however, I will always, always advocate for my child – that’s a part of the deal.  Just like it’s your job to represent your staff and students, it’s my job to be Max’s fiercest ally.  

I recognize how difficult things are for you – we don’t have to experience the same kind of “hard” to reach a hand of support out for others.  Life is hard for everyone as we head into the third year of the pandemic.  Thank you for showing up everyday, for the ways you serve kids and families and for working to not have a “one size fits all” approach to education.

We’re all FRAGILE:  HANDLE WITH CARE.