IEP's (From the perspective of a first year special education teacher)

 Stage 1: Excitement

It's been almost a year since I got my TFA teaching placement, man, what a year it has been. My last semester at BYU was spent working as an after-school teacher at an elementary school. It was a low-income school, and some of my students had special learning needs. I loved my special needs students, and while the work was challenging it was also fulfilling. My placement was 7-12 dual certification general and special education. I was so excited. I felt like my experience teaching in the elementary school had prepared me for this placement. I was so naive...

Stage 2: Confusion
The special education course at my graduate school only has two classes a semester. Neither class was helpful in the least. My school had an IEP meeting during a professional development day in the first month of school. I was already overwhelmed by teaching full-time, graduate school, and learning classroom management. The meeting was a brief overview of the expectations the school has for writing IEP's. I felt like it was too much information being thrown at me at once, and I didn't know how to process it all. In my classes and the school I was hearing how important a well-written IEP is for the success of students with learning disabilities. However, I was confused at how to approach them. No one sat me down to show me how to write an effective IEP, I didn't have an example until I had already tried to write two on my own. I struggled to navigate the website and create the forms. At this point my confusion started to turn into frustration.

Stage 3: Frustration
By November, I was already behind schedule. All of my IEP meetings at that point were out of compliance, it took a whole month for my first IEP to get the final approval, and I was drowning in homework and lesson planning. Each IEP was taking days to write, I didn't have time to write them during my prep periods, so I stayed late every single day. By November I was over it. I was ready to quit. I was tired, confused, and over-scheduled. In one meeting the school psychologist told the parent that I was "an expert". I felt like a fraud, spoiler alert, I am not a special education expert. I have literally only attended two special education classes, and I studied freaking sociology in college. I am in no way, shape, or form an "expert". Every time the psychologist sent back the documents to edit the papers looked like they were bleeding. The constant feedback on how shitty my first couple IEP's were disheartening. It took three rounds of intense editing to get my first IEP up to her standards, and by that point I'm pretty sure she only finalized it because it was a month over-due. I started to complain to anyone who would listen. "I have too many IEP's on my caseload." "I feel like I am jumping through hoops." "I think the school psychologist is trying to kill me." "I can't teach, do lesson plans, write IEP's, and go to graduate school." "I feel overwhelmed and under-qualified." Dang, I feel so bad for anyone who was subjected to my whining. I felt so frustrated and alone. I was burning out quickly. I didn't have any excitement left for the work. Apathy started to take over the frustration.

Stage 4: Apathy
Apathy is defined as a "lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern" (Oxford Dictionary). Oh man, this word perfectly describes the way I was feeling going into winter break of 2019. I was OVER teaching. Being a special educator is one of the most thankless jobs on the planet. One parent blamed me for her student not doing well in her classes, even though I was doing everything I could to help her. By November I was ready to quit. I was spending my own time to write IEP's without compensation, I literally had no life outside of work, and I couldn't keep living like this.

Stage 5: Guilt
I started feeling guilt all the time. I felt guilty for being apathetic toward my students and their needs. I felt guilty for not knowing how to write a proper IEP. I felt guilty for being the worst teacher ever. I felt guilty for not knowing how to help my students. I felt guilty for being frustrated with the school psychologist. I felt guilty for resenting her when she was just trying to help me. I internalized my shame, guilt, and blame. I blamed myself for taking this position. I felt shame because I sucked as a teacher. I felt like a fraud.

Stage 6: Compassion and Love
Guess what? There is no such thing as a perfect teacher. Shocker. I am beginning to realize that students don't need a perfect teacher. They need a teacher who loves them unconditionally. Students need a teacher who will advocate for their needs. Students need to feel like their teacher knows them and wants them to succeed. Students love to be heard. It's amazing the difference talking to and listening to my students has made. I take some of them out on walks during lunch. Other students love to play board games with me. A few of my female students love when I braid their hair and listen to their boy drama. As I developed close bonds with my students, the feeling of being a fraud started to fade away. I feel like I am a better teacher now because of these relationships.

School started again on January 2, and I was on fire. I felt the same passion and excitement I felt when I first got my teaching assignment. I scheduled the rest of my meetings, two a week, until the middle of February. My IEP writing was getting better, I only had one round of edits for the last couple before break. Part of preparing to write an IEP is reading the IEP from the previous year. Sometimes they are horrifying to read. I cried reading one of them because whoever wrote it obviously did not care for the student. It was harsh and did not show any semblance of compassion for the student. The school psychologist taught me how to focus on student strengths, how to write an objective IEP, and how to make informed decisions based on research for each student. She has become my biggest supporter. She answers all of my text messages, calls, and emails no matter what time it is. She helps me feel empowered, and she taught me to trust my own judgement. I was annoyed at how much she pushed me at the beginning of the year, but now I see that she was trying to help me learn the ropes quickly to make it easier in the long run. She told me,"Lauren, if you really care about your students and you want what is best for them, then you will make the right decision. Plus, if things don't work out, you can always go back and amend. It's not a forever decision. Trust yourself."

It is now the end of January and I feel confident in my IEP writing skills. I know the jargon, I feel comfortable presenting my work to parents and my supervisors, I am confident in leading IEP meetings, and I am becoming a more compassionate teacher. I am starting to find a lot of value in my work as a special educator. The small victories keep my spirits high, even when I am exhausted. I feel so much love for my students, and I love writing IEP's for them now. Writing these documents has made me look at my students in a new way, they are no longer just a student with special needs. They are highly intelligent beings who have different skills and aptitudes, who need extra support to learn in the school setting.

My students are changing my life and I hope that in a small way, I am changing theirs too.