Virtual schooling can be incredibly draining, no doubt about it. Managing endless Zoom calls, various apps, and guiding kids through the complex steps just to submit their assignments can feel overwhelmingly hectic. When you throw in an Individualized Education Program (IEP) or a 504 plan, it can push any parent to their limits. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve got it all under control; juggling my children’s IEPs while managing remote education is challenging for various reasons.
For those unfamiliar, an IEP is a personalized educational plan designed for public school students with special needs as defined by the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). It outlines a child’s current performance levels, strengths, and areas for improvement. The IEP sets measurable annual goals for the child and specifies the services and accommodations required to reach those objectives. It also clarifies who will implement each part of the IEP.
I’ve been through the process of securing IEPs for both of my children, and let me tell you, it’s not an easy journey. Each child needs a detailed educational evaluation to determine if they meet the criteria for one of the 13 disability categories outlined by IDEA. In my case, one child qualifies due to a speech and language impairment, while the other has a visual impairment combined with ADHD. I won’t sugarcoat it; the process has been long, exhausting, and often confusing, leaving me mentally and emotionally drained.
Navigating an IEP is no small feat. As a parent, I have to keep track of every detail. It’s my responsibility to ensure that everyone involved with my children is aware of their IEPs and that they’re being implemented correctly. This is a daunting task even during normal times, and the added pressure of a global pandemic makes it feel utterly overwhelming.
On top of my two kids with IEPs, I also have two others who have 504 plans (which are somewhat less intensive than IEPs), and I’m barely managing to keep up. Coordinating additional tutoring, reading support, speech therapy, occupational therapy, and counseling sessions across all my children’s schedules translates to about 15 extra Zoom meetings each week. Keeping track of the schedules, logins, and passcodes raises my anxiety levels to new heights.
I often find myself torn between gratitude for the continuity of services available for my kids and frustration that seems to bubble just beneath the surface. Balancing clear communication with teachers and administrators while avoiding the feeling of being a burden is a challenge. Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked to learn that someone thinks I’m an overly anxious parent.
I also feel for my kids. The shift to virtual schooling and the disruption of their daily routines has been tough for them as well. It often feels like they’re being asked to succeed with one hand tied behind their backs and blindfolds on. They express that it’s unfair to have so many extra sessions, and I can’t blame them; I feel the same way.
In essence, I’m managing a one-room schoolhouse for four kids with needs I’m not fully equipped to meet. There are moments when I feel inadequate and guilty for not being able to support all their requirements as they navigate remote learning. Frustration sometimes leads to outbursts, fueled by exhaustion, lack of knowledge, and patience. With the pandemic, there’s little to no downtime for me to collect myself. I’m drained and uncertain about how long I can maintain this pace.
What weighs most heavily on me is the fear of my kids losing the progress they’ve made. I worry they might fall behind their peers when we eventually return to in-person schooling, and I dread the possibility of regression. What frightens me most is the sense of helplessness in preventing this.
I recognize that I come from a place of privilege; my kids are relatively high functioning. I am fluent in English and hold a degree in child development, plus I previously worked in education, giving me insight into the educational landscape. I don’t face issues like food insecurity or job loss, and my husband is home part-time, sharing the load.
I cannot pretend to understand the struggles of parents with children who face severe emotional, physical, or cognitive challenges. For some families, virtual learning isn’t even an option, and some parents must become full-time caregivers with minimal support. I don’t fully grasp what it means to manage IEPs while also worrying about job security, ensuring meals for the family, or simply communicating effectively with educators.
This isn’t a plea for sympathy or a sob story. I’m sharing my experiences with managing IEPs during remote learning to help other parents of children with special needs feel less isolated and to encourage them not to judge themselves too harshly. The feelings of frustration and overwhelm are something we all encounter.
There is no one at fault in this situation. We must remind ourselves that everyone—parents, children, teachers, administrators, and service providers—is doing their best in what can sometimes feel like an impossible scenario.
To learn more about IEPs and support, check out this resource for valuable information.