We have survived...

We finally reached the end of our school year.  Finally.  I'm pretty sure this one was measured in dog years.  I am so glad it is behind us.

I have been away from my blog for 6 weeks.  This is no way to build a readership, I know, but life is a journey and my journey has been bumpy lately.  Starting this blog meant sharing my thoughts and being vulnerable.  It means letting people know the good, the bad, and everything in between.  Appearances would dictate that I don't share the hard stuff, but to censure the blog in that way would contradict the spirit in which I started it.  Realistically, though, it's not always easy to be true to that spirit.  Some things are just personally harder to express and take time to process.

I spent the better part of May doing research.  More research.  The never-ending pile of research.  Why?  Because we had yet another IEP meeting to tackle near the end of May.  This was our 5th meeting of the year.  I think that is a record.  I wonder if I should call the Guinness Book of World Records?  I may have made history this year in terms of IEP meetings.

I'd like to say that this meeting was particularly important but the truth is that every meeting has been equally important.  They are also equally stressful.  This one, though, seemed more monumental because the discussion was to focus on K's school placement for 5th grade.

Armed with my delicious To-Die-For Blueberry Muffins (aka Suck-Up Muffins), we dragged ourselves to a 7:45 a.m. meeting.  My husband and I had spent a great deal of time discussing our different options, what we wanted to accomplish and our strategy.  This time, I was going to be the Good Cop and he was going to be the Bad Cop.  Have I mentioned how much this ridiculous game play irritates me? Still, we've learned to play the game.  Blech.

As expected, our options were reduced to two:  keep her where she is, with the same supports in place and where she continues to fail and make little to no progress or move her to a special education class at a different school.  Both options left us with a sick feeling in our stomachs.  The school team strongly recommended the special education placement.  I could speculate as to the different reasons why each person on the team felt that way, but it would be discouraging to do so.  Although I try to leave emotion out of it, this is always an emotional situation.  I was struck by how easy it was for them to let her go.  Again, I thought about how much love she has shown them, day after day, year after year and even if they believe it to be in her best interest, isn't it hard for anyone to say goodbye to her?  And what about her social and emotional well-being?  She has only ever known this school, these other children.  Moving her means changing everything - school, teacher, speech therapist, students.

Oh and the irony?  The same specialist from the school district was there.  You might recall from an earlier blog entry that he mentioned how the final decision on placement belonged with the district.  I found that funny because there's no way anyone but my husband and I will have that final decision.  At this meeting, he simply stated that these were the offers on the table and it would be a decision for my husband and I to make. I think he's finally getting to know me! So glad he figured that out!  LOL!

We left the meeting without choosing either option.  We needed to think.  I needed to process this monumental change.

In the meantime, while we thought about it, another challenge got in the way.  For some reason, the week after our meeting, K started experiencing significant anxiety.  She missed most of the school week and the pediatrician wants her to see a child psychiatrist for assessment and possible diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder.  I'm not sure I can accurately describe what it was like to see her in this state.  She was not herself at all.  She was a wreck and it broke our hearts.  Her anxiety was based on an irrational fear and nothing we could do or say seemed to help at all.  We just had to be there for her and hope she could get through it.  Even now, I get teary-eyed thinking of her in that way.  Our happy, smiling, loving girl was replaced with a scared, shell of a girl without a smile or laughter or her normal buoyant personality.

Now our decision became exponentially more complicated.  Would she be more stressed staying where she is, but continuing to fail or moving to a new school with no guarantee of success?  I think I got another clump of gray hair and 15 more wrinkles that week.

For now, we've decided to accept the offer to move her to a new class at a new school.  We are also considering homeschooling.  The speech therapist that has been working with her at school since 1st grade is moving to the same new school, which made that offer significantly more appealing.  We shall see where this leads us.

Still, even in these difficult times, I look at her and realize how much more she brings to my life than I could have ever anticipated.  I am so much better as a person for having this particular child in my life.  When I think about how much I used to take for granted, I am grateful that my eyes have been opened.

You Don't Know Me Very Well

It was a week ago that we had our second meeting with the school team to discuss K's IEP.  The good news is that this one was far less painful than the previous one.  The teacher had very little to say...well, maybe because it was my turn.

That sounds pretty assertive of me, doesn't it?  Shut up, Mrs. Negative Classroom Teacher.  It's my turn.  The fact is, I'm not particularly assertive.  I am determined.  I am tenacious.  I will work through an issue until I've beaten the proverbial dead horse into a puddle.  I am excellent at being the squeaky wheel (pleasantly persistent, thank you very much).  But I'm not particularly assertive.  There are times, though, when I can be manipulative...no, let's call it "strategic."

In the two weeks between meetings, I had plenty of time to do more research, gather more ideas, formulate more questions, and write a whole new list of things to cover.

*side note*  It is typically recommended to dig into a meeting until it is all hammered out, no matter how long it takes.  I've decided that splitting up the meeting actually works much better for me.  Not only do I get the extra time to absorb all the overwhelming information from the first meeting, but I get plenty of time to prepare for the second.  Granted, it gives the school/district team time to do the same, but I'm okay with that.  I think the whole idea of sitting there for hours is as much a strategy for a parent as it is for the school/district team.  There has to be some strategy to just plain wear a parent out and a long meeting can do just that.  Also, I'm less emotional when I'm not so overwhelmed and it's very helpful to leave emotion out of these meetings whenever possible.

Husband and I talked about what we wanted to accomplish and decided that there was one especially important concern that we wanted documented:  K is now about 2 years behind in reading.  That affects every other subject taught in school.  In the past year, she has not made much progress at all.  The gap is getting wider, not narrower, between her and her peers.  How do you (meaning the school team) plan to close the gap?  This was strategy on our part.

Originally, I just wanted the concern documented.  We were actually at this meeting to discuss the accommodations and services.  Boy, did this concern take the meeting in a totally different direction.  It was fine, but just not what we had planned.  Is any of this process EVER what we plan?  It was our intention, though, to plant the seed that we know what is expected - K to be at grade level - and to put everyone on notice that we won't stop until that day...and probably not even then.  We want a plan; we expect a plan; K deserves a plan.

We have been working with a school team since K was 3 years old.  The team we have now is not the team we had then.  This team has been with us for 2 years now, which is long enough to know me pretty well, I think.  Certain members of the team have been with us longer, so they should know me very well.  It came as a surprise to me when our school district program specialist (aka Budget Barrier) said,

"Ultimately, it is the school district that makes the final decision on placement for FAPE, but that doesn't mean that your input isn't important.  You are a very important part of the team."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Dude, you don't know me very well.  Hello?  Tenacious. Determined. Smart. Educated. Well-informed. Ph.D. in K.  Do you really think, for even one millisecond, that I will allow anyone other than my husband and I to make the final decisions for K?  Seriously?  Have I ever just blindly accepted anything on the table without at least questioning it, let alone reserving (or using) my veto power?  Clearly, I'm not following the school district rules.

I may not like the barriers that are put in front of me, but I would not be doing my job - I wouldn't be me - if I just looked at those barriers and accepted them.  No, I will look for every way around, over, under, through that barrier.  I may not always get my way, but it won't be because I didn't try.  Mr. School District, I will promise you this:  you are an important part of the team and I know you have a job to do; your input and recommendations are valuable and we will keep an open mind; but in the end,  decisions will either be mutually agreed upon or they will be mine (and my husband's) alone.  Maybe those aren't the "legal" rules, but that's how I roll and it's never been any different.

I think that perhaps I am just as ridiculous as they are sometimes.  I continue to be surprised, even when I really do know better and they continue not to know me very well, or perhaps they just forget what I am like.  Whatever the case, I'm going to get a lot of mileage out of his misguided assumption about me.  Every time I think about it, I giggle.  Thanks for the laugh, Mr. School District.  I have renewed energy.  Statements like that just fuel me.  I'm far from beaten down.  Bring it!

Some of my favorites

If I sat back to think about how many hours I have logged doing research about my extra-special girl and her challenges, I might think I had been to another 4 years of college.  Except, in this case, there is no degree to be achieved.  How many zeroes would be at the end of that log of hours?  Too many.  I call Pintrest the black hole of pretty pictures - one thing leads to another that leads to another that leads to another.  My research has been a lot like that, too.  I start at one source which will lead me to another, etc. It seems to never end.  Yet, along the way, I have found a few gems that I return to time and again.


I've mentioned this many times - navigating the complex maze of the educational system for your extra-special child is, at best, confusing and at worst, completely defeating.  I'm not an attorney, nor do I want to be one, but a general knowledge of special education law has been really helpful.  That's where the people at Wrightslaw come in.  This book has been a huge help to me:

Written explicitly for parents, it is a great guide to all those pesky laws that seem more confusing than deciphering texting abbreviations from your teen.


They have also written another invaluable guide:

The most important thing I learned from this book from the first time I opened the page was to create and keep a paper trail.  If that was all it taught you, it would be worth it, but it covers so much more and definitely keeping my emotions in check when working with the school has been much more beneficial to my daughter.  It is easy to dismiss an emotional parent as, well, just emotional.  It is much harder to dismiss a parent who is prepared and professional.


I continue to look for books that will guide me in helping S, my older garden-variety special, girl to navigate her own emotions as the one who has the extra-special sibling.  I recently purchased this book for her:

The Sibling Slam Book: What It's Really Like to Have a Brother or Sister with Special Needs

Written in a series of questions answered by teens ranging in age from 12-19, this book shares that, if nothing else, all of the emotions that S has felt/is feeling/will feel are normal and understandable.  She is not alone and I think that might be the best thing she gets from this book.  Most of the siblings have more severe challenges than K, so it's not 100% relatable to S, but that, too, helps to keep some perspective on her own situation.


I am still looking for some good guidance on how to fully explain to S, in ways that she can understand completely, what the specific challenges are for K.  I think S will benefit from having a more "clinical" explanation than just "her brain is different from your brain."  I think I can do better than that, but I'm really hoping I can find someone who has walked that walk and might have some good ideas.


My favorite book for me - the one that reminds me that my emotions are normal and understandable is this one:

Shut Up About Your Perfect Kid!

I recently wrote this review on Amazon and for the sake of my sanity and lack of general creativity, I figured I would just copy it here rather than try to come up with something new.  


I don't remember who recommended this book to me, but I wish I did so I could thank them properly. In a world where we are all measured by our stats: grades, SAT scores, university diplomas, job, salary, etc., Gina Gallagher and Patricia Konjoian remind us that perfection is highly overrated. As I read their book, I felt like I had found kindred spirits. My own daughter does not have the same challenges as theirs, but my journey as a mom has been remarkably similar. Sometimes, it can feel as if you are on the journey alone, but the Shut Up Sisters remind you that you are not.

The book really recounts their own experiences raising kids with special needs, but along the way, nuggets of professional insight are provided. You will definitely cry while reading this book, but you'll also laugh out loud and be racing to share the excerpts with friends. You will finish the book feeling hopeful and more appreciative of all the imperfections around you - including your own. This may be the best part of the book - being reminded that imperfection really is just perfect.

Don't be deceived by the title! Although the title might imply that the Shut Up Sisters would like to tell off the parents of every child who is seemingly "perfect," nothing could be farther from the point. It's really about embracing all the wonderful qualities of your imperfect child and educating others so that you and your child will not have to live on the fringes of the "perfect" kids.

Many thanks and kudos to the Shut Up Sisters for opening their lives and the lives of their children to help other parents of special needs children feel comfortable, too. These are girls you would want to hang out with - not just Gina & Patty, but their daughters, too.


I promise to gather up a list of my favorite websites.  I wanted to start with books, in part because I was honored to be a guest blogger at www.shutupabout.com this week.  I am genuinely grateful to the Shut Up Sisters for their humor, their wit, and their humility and for allowing my voice to be heard on their website and blog.

The Agony of Defeat

This week, my husband and I had an IEP meeting for K at the school.  In attendance was the usual team - the classroom teacher, the resource specialist, the principal, the speech therapist, me and my husband.  The program specialist - our assigned representative from the district - was not there due to illness.  He did, however, lament the fact that not only was he missing the meeting, but he'd be missing out on my cookies.  Hooray for Suck-Up Cookies!

We were well prepared for this meeting.  I had completely reviewed our most current IEP, made notes, made a list of questions, documented our evidence to support any requests we wanted to make.  We felt confident of K's progress over the last year, but we always know there will be some sort of bump in the road, if for no other reason than no matter how well prepared we are, we never have any idea exactly what the school team will be bringing to the table.

The meeting starts with the usual formalities - introductions that we don't need, perfunctory offering of the Parent's Rights that we already have, signing of the attendance sheet.  Then we get into the meat of the meeting.  It starts with us listing K's strengths and our concerns.  We tend to keep our list of strengths brief and only applicable to the school setting.  This time, when we were done with our list, I asked the team to offer their list of K's strengths.  Their list included primarily non-academic things.  "K has such a great personality!" "K is always happy!" "K is such a love, she never complains." "K is always appreciative when her peers help her and she is kind and considerate to her peers."

Yes!  Those are wonderful things that every parent wants to hear!  We couldn't agree more with every single thing that was said.  However, the problem with those statements is that it tends to give the parents a false sense of security.  You begin to believe that they are seeing the same child that you see.  Even with the best of intentions, it does not prepare you well for what is to come.

Then we list our concerns.  My list is long and detailed.  It must be in order to keep everyone on the team accountable to K and to ensure that we are writing a document that meets her individual needs.  I used to be brief, "Our concerns are speech/language, reading comprehension, writing and math reasoning."  Now, those are merely the headings for my list.  You'd think that if I can come up with a comprehensive, detailed list there could be nothing that the team might bring up that will be a surprise.  I thought that, too.  We'd both be wrong.

When it was time for the teacher to give her report on K's progress, she had absolutely nothing positive to say.  I'm not being dramatic and I'm not exaggerating.  Every single sentence she uttered was like a punch in the gut.  For that, we were completely unprepared.  This is so common and I often wonder how parents who are just beginning this journey handle it.  For me, even after all this time, I am shell-shocked.  Are we talking about the same girl?  Can't you see, Mrs. Classroom Teacher, how much progress she has made?  It is painful to listen to a teacher describe in detail everything negative she can muster up.  That is my child you are talking about.  It is not possible that it could be that bad, even if I am biased.  I know my child and I can see the progress she has made.  I wouldn't do myself any favors or K any service by burying my head in the sand.  I have to see her weaknesses, but I also see her strengths.

It is not only painful, it is infuriating.  I'm listening to the teacher talk and thinking about all the things that she was supposed to be doing to help K this year and knowing, without a doubt, that she hasn't done most of them.  In fact, when questioned, she had to admit that she "didn't see that on the IEP."  It takes a great deal of control not to jump across the table, wring her neck and scream, "That puts you in VIOLATION of her IEP, which is grounds for legal action!"  That, believe it or not, would be the nice, diplomatic response, even if I did yell and crawl across the table.  In my heart of hearts, I want to sit quietly and ask her how she can live with herself, knowing that she is letting down my K.  She is letting down the very child who "is always happy," who "is very appreciative of her peers," and who "always wants to give a hug."  How do you do that, Mrs. Classroom Teacher?  How can you tell me how terrible my child is doing and not even think to apologize for the role you have played in that failure?  How can you look me in the eye with justification for saying nothing positive about all the hard work my girl has been doing in an effort to follow your rules, do what you ask, and make you proud of her?

I'm listening to her, watching her, noticing that she won't make eye contact with me.  I ask what else we  can do to support K at home.  I ask to be more informed so that we can help K and be consistent with what is going on in school.  Could we have a copy of the book she is reading so we can share it with her at home as well as at school?  I am dismissed.  My requests are brushed off by Mrs. Classroom Teacher.  As I continue to listen, I come to an important realization:  she likes K, she thinks K is sweet, but she does not think that K belongs her in her classroom.

Whether or not an argument could made to support the teacher's belief about K is irrelevant at this point.  The fact remains that K is a student in her classroom.  She is a hard working, eager to learn, student with special needs and a legal document to ensure that her needs are met.  Mrs. Classroom Teacher sees her as someone who doesn't belong there - as though K doesn't even have the potential to rise to the level of other students.

We came home; I was exhausted.  I felt completely defeated.  For all of our work, we are still in essentially the same place - fighting for K's right to an education.  The next morning, it was horrible to drop her off at school, knowing she was spending the morning in a room with a teacher that sees her as a burden; wishing she could spend her whole day with the resource specialist and the speech therapist - two people who genuinely care for her, believe in her abilities and have worked tirelessly to help her make diligent progress.  Liking her is not enough; the teacher needs to want her there, believe in her, be willing to teach her.  I'd like to think that the teacher might make a little extra effort for a student like K, but I've given up that hope.  Now, I just want her to follow the damn IEP.  I dropped K off, came home and cried buckets of tears.  That is MY girl and I feel like I just fed her to the lion.

And that is sad, too.  I understand and appreciate the demands placed on teachers in this day and age.  I understand and because of that, I am available and willing to do whatever we need to in order to support K so she can be successful in school.  We want to work collaboratively with the team.  To have to lower our expectations to simply, "just follow the damn IEP," is sad.

I know that no one will love her like we do.  I know that no one will work harder than we do to help K succeed.  If I am completely clueless about her potential, then someone needs to tell me.  If I am wrong in thinking that she will be able to have a future full of choices, then someone needs to tell me.  I don't believe that.  I see her.  I know her.  I can see what she is capable of doing, given the proper support and time.  I'm not stupid.  I know there will be things that will always be a challenge for her, but I also know that in time, she will be able to access strategies to work around those challenges.

Thirty-six hours after the meeting (and a good night's sleep), I am less defeated.  All this has done, in the long run, is make me more determined to do whatever it takes to give K the same thing that every other child deserves: an education.  As wonderful as the school team is, they need to remember that I have not ever and I will not ever back down if something needs to be done to give K her education.  How this is resolved remains to be seen.  I, of course, have started making plans and started researching ideas.  We meet again in 2 weeks.  I will regroup, prepare our ideas and evidence for them, and sit at the table with renewed resolve.  Mrs. Classroom Teacher has said her piece; now it's my turn.

Preparing for the IEP

After receiving some positive feedback on my last posting regarding the educational system, I thought I might be able to dig up a few other tips that have been helpful to me.  We will be having an IEP meeting in two weeks, so I find this a good opportunity to make sure I have all of my plans prepared.  I am not an expert, by any means.  I have just been around the block a couple of times.  So, in no particular order:

1.  In Navigating the Educational System, I said to make sure your comments are documented.  Honestly, it is in your best interest to make sure everything is documented.  Warning: you will easily  kill a forest with all of the papers you will have in a giant binder.  I am on my 4th giant binder.  I am probably on the tree-hugger-protectors 10 Most Wanted list. If there has been any mention of K, it's in there.  If you want a meeting, request it in writing.  If you want a progress report, request it in writing. If you just want to check and see if your child has the sniffles at school today, put it in writing and ask for the response in writing. This is for the benefit of everyone on the team.  If it is in writing, the proof will be on the page.  Email really is fine (some sources would disagree), but make sure you keep the emails, back up the emails, print the emails.

2.  How do you document a phone call?  First, it's pretty rare for me to have a conversation by phone regarding K.  Email is most common.  Face to face is great, but not always practical.  To document a phone call, I just keep a simple note for the binder.  Who, what, why, when.  Those are things that need to be documented.  Who did you talk to?  What did you talk about?  Why was this discussed?  When will action be taken and by whom?  You may not always have answers for all of those, depending on the purpose of the phone call, but it's an easy way to remember.

3.  The Binder.  The binder is kind of like the parents' extra-special bible.  Today, all over the country, parents are marching into school meetings and plopping a binder the size and weight of a baby elephant on the table.  Disclaimer:  my binder is not always in perfect order.  I usually sit down once a year to clean it up.  In the binder are the sections that work for me.  Yours might be different, although some are going to be pretty universal.  Section 1 - the IEP.  I keep the most current progress report on top. Behind those is the most current IEP.  Behind that is the previous year's IEP. Why?  It helps to see if progress is being made if you can quickly refer to previous goals and accommodations.  Next section, Parent's Rights. Your school is required by law to offer you a copy at every annual IEP meeting.  If it hasn't changed, no need to kill another tree.  Either way, I have my copy there.  Section 3 is usually my notes or interesting articles and always a copy of the condensed description of K's diagnosis.  That is one section that I can grab from quickly if I need to.  The 4th section is a copy of all of the most recent assessments - those done in school as well as any that have been done privately.

Aside from organization, the binder shows the school team that you are invested in the process and educated about your child and her specific needs.  It adds to your credibility.

4.  The photo.  I know it sounds strange, but always make sure there is a photo of your child on the table.  Meetings can get intense very quickly and it's most important to make sure that everyone, even you, is focused on the child.  I know that there have been times when I have just been so pissed off, I just want to WIN at whatever it is we are discussing.  Those are the times when I have to take a step back, look at the picture and reassess whether or not this is about K.  Granted, most of the time I wouldn't get that angry if I wasn't passionate about something that would help K, but occasionally I forget that sometimes you need to pick your battles.  I usually give each person on the team a picture of K.  I want them to look at her sweet face every time they have to reference her files.

5.  Know that if you give the school team 24-48 hours notice, you can record the meeting.  We have recorded a couple of meetings, just so we had something else to reference later, if we needed it.  So much is discussed at these meetings, the information overload can be overwhelming.

6.  If it is available, if it is remotely possible, hire an advocate to help you with this process.  Depending on where you live, there may be a variety of options to find one.  You do not have to hire an attorney, although many advocates are also attorneys.  An advocate not only knows the law, but will know the little quirks within your district that you would not ever know as a parent who only sits in on meetings for your own child.  

7.  Have a personal partner at the table.  If that is Dad (or Mom, depending on who takes the lead on these things), then great!  If it is grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, godparent, or your best friend, great. You will feel better knowing that you are not alone representing your child.  That person is your support system.  Bringing a friend can be especially helpful for taking notes.  It allows you to actively listen and participate in the meeting without trying to take notes at the same time.

I know that a lot parents are uncomfortable with things like recording a meeting, requesting an assessment, asking for a service or accommodation, or bringing an advocate.  I was too, at first.  I don't want to have to fight for every little thing that K needs.  It felt like I was trying to pick a fight if I did any of those things.  So, even though it has pushed me out of my comfort zone, I have learned to ask.  I bring the photo.  I demand answers to my questions and accountability for everyone at the table.  I am "pleasantly persistent," keeping at it until I'm satisfied.  If need be, your advocate can be the bad guy - mine usually is!  It may seem adversarial, but ultimately, we are supposed to be a team working for my child.  It isn't picking a fight; it is working together and exercising all options available to you to make the best decisions possible for your child.

If there was something that I could give to every parent who has ever asked me about these meetings, it would be to give them their own confidence and power.   Always remember to take your own place at the table.  You, as the parent, are the most important person at the table.  You are there for your child and you are her voice in this situation.  You know what they say about the squeaky wheel?  Be the squeaky wheel.  Don't let your own misgivings get in the way of advocating for your child.  Do your research, make your plan, and be a part of the team, not a spectator in the stands.  I didn't always know this.  I'm so glad that I have learned something over the last 8 years.

Then, when the meeting is done, treat yourself to a cocktail (or two) or chocolate (by the pound)  or something that is a real reward for your hard work.  You deserve it!

Navigating the Educational System

Perhaps one of the most befuddling experiences as the parent of an extra-special kid is how to make sure your child gets a proper education.  From the outside, this may seem like a simple situation.  School down the street; send child to school.  There are lots and lots of parents of extra-special kids who do just that.  For them, that works.  For many of the people I know, however, it isn't that simple.  These kids need all sorts of different accommodations and teaching methods in order to receive an education.

Schools have it tough.  They must provide a free and appropriate education to every child, even as the numbers of children needing special services is on the rise and budget money is on the decline.  The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) allows Congress to contribute up to 40% of the per pupil cost for special education services, yet the actual amount that is paid is 18%, at best, and often less than that.  Schools have to provide the services, no matter what they are, if the services are deemed appropriate for the child.  Budget doesn't matter; in fact, it is illegal for a school to even imply to a parent that a child is not getting a service because the school can't afford it.

Parents want the best for their children.  When I look at K, I can see all that she is capable of and I don't want her to ever feel like her options are limited because of her challenges.  She will be able to do anything she chooses, as long as she gets the proper education now.  It is frustrating to know that, legally, the school is only required to give her enough to pass.  Meeting her full potential is not even a topic of discussion.  It's a crappy position for both sides of the table.  I can only imagine that it must be extremely frustrating for some educators to know what should be done and be limited by what can be done.  Knowing this, though, you will have a better understanding of what the school can do and what they don't have to do.  They don't have to make sure your child functions well at home; they do have make sure your child can function well at school.

I am often asked to share what I know about navigating the school system for an IEP.  I've learned through trial and error.  I'm happy to share what I have learned.  Others have shared with me and we can all pay it forward.   I am not expert by any means, but this is what I have figured out that works for me:

1.  When the school is offering services for your child, whether that be in the form of accommodations in the classroom (i.e. seating in the front of the room, extra time on tests) or direct service (speech therapy, resource specialist), you can safely assume that they are not putting their best offer on the table. They are operating under a "less is more" philosophy.  Consider this merely a starting point for negotiation.

2.  Never, ever, ever, sign the IEP at the meeting.  Even if the document is everything you could have ever wanted for your child served up on a 24kt gold platter and surrounded by See's Candies wrapped in a college scholarship, don't sign it.  We are all human; sitting in a long meeting can take a lot out of you, especially when the discussion is about your child.  Take it home and read it when you aren't so overwhelmed.  Once, our very well-meaning, very pregnant speech therapist wrote a goal that stated, "K has trouble with vowels."  It should have been, "K has trouble with verbs."  Small typo?  Maybe, but the next speech therapist to work with K might have been going down the entirely wrong road had I not caught the mistake when I reread the IEP at home.

3.  Make sure you are prepared and your input is documented.  Create an agenda for yourself.  You should know exactly what you want to have discussed.  List ALL of your concerns.  If you say it at the IEP meeting, it should be documented.  This is another reason not to sign the IEP at the meeting.  Sometimes the notes need to be reviewed and revised if they don't reflect your input.

4.  To the best of your ability, be ready to advocate for your child.  This is really hard.  I'd prefer to just be straight, lay it all out on the table, have everyone agree with me and move on.  ;-)  I tell myself that while I may not be an expert in Special Education or Special Education Law, I have a Ph.D. in my daughter.  Do your research; know as much as you can about your child's diagnosis and from there find out what kinds of methods might work best for her.  Be ready to make suggestions even if they are "out of the box."  Even if you aren't a master negotiator, you build credibility by being prepared.

5.  Don't be afraid to question what you are told and don't be afraid to go the distance.  When K was in preschool, her teacher said to me, "We think K has a sensory integration issue.  She's standing on her head in buckets of blocks." I had K assessed and whoa!  The teacher was right!  Fast forward to the meeting and the teacher remained silent while the occupational therapist said, "No, she doesn't have any trouble.  Any sensory issues she has don't impact her access to her education."  What?  Standing on your head in buckets of blocks isn't a problem?  We kept questioning and pushing until we got something helpful in place for K.  Twice in that process, we had to threaten legal action.  If your gut tells you this is important, then you need to trust that instinct.

6.  Assume that your team wants to do what they can for your child.  This may or may not be true, but assume the best and prepare for the worst. Most of the people in the meeting really don't have decision making power, but they do know that budgets are stretched and their student caseloads are increasing.  Sometimes putting your foot down often enough results in having an actual decision maker at the table. That's a good thing.  I'd rather know what/who I'm up against.

7.  Know your rights.  You have the right to call an IEP meeting at any time, for any reason.  You are entitled to regular progress reports.  You have the right to have things explained to you in language you can understand (those assessments can be akin to reading Greek when you only speak English).  You have the right to ask as many questions as it takes for you to feel confident about the school situation.  I finally figured out that asking if K is making progress isn't enough.  I have to ask, "Is she making the kind of progress you would have expected her to be making at this point in time with the materials/curriculum you are using?"  If the answer is no, I have the right to question what they are going to do about it and in what time frame and what the expected length of time would be to see results to determine if the change has been the right one.  This is supposed to be a team and you, the parents, are on the team, not just spectators in the stands.

8.  Take the Suck-Up Cookies.  Everyone is happier with a tummy full of yummy goodies.

Then, when you are in this process, take a look at your "typical" child and note with extra appreciation how easy things are with her in comparison to all of the above.