How to choose a school

[looking for Transition to Kindergarten, or for info about the kinds of options school districts offer? Start here]

Sometimes it feels like there is a world of school options out there (and sometimes it seems there are none). Picking a school – kindergarten through university – is high stakes, and it can be hard to know where to start. Here are some ideas.

Before we dive in: this decision probably feels huge and terrifying. Maybe you're grieving the classroom you imagined your child would be in, the one where everything would just work without all this agonizing. Maybe you're wrestling with guilt about "giving up" on inclusion. Maybe you're exhausted from fighting and just want someone to tell you what to do.

There is no perfect choice. There's only the choice that works best for your child and your family, right now, and only for now. You're not locked in forever. So take a breath. You're going to figure this out.

Things to answer first

What does your child need?

What are the hard parts of school? Where do they need support? Schools can be amazing in general, but if they can’t accommodate your child’s specific needs, they aren’t right for you. If your child needs small classes, a 29-kid class will not work, no matter how “great” the school is.

Make a list of school skills that are hard for your child (sitting still, focusing on work, expressive and receptive communication, academic requirements, emotional regulation, self-care & hygiene, play skills…). Add what supports you’ve put in place at home or preschool, and you’ll have an idea where their “hard parts” are going to be and what they might need.

What are your priorities?

Some priorities come from your list above. Others come from your family’s values and goals. For me, class size was a priority, but so were diversity, understanding kids are trying as hard as they can, and excitement about learning. Sometimes your priorities clash with what your child needs (I insisted on Montessori preschool for my eldest, and it was great, but then her kindergarten teacher ran a military-tight teacher-directed ship, and my kid loved it). Be sure to ponder why something is a priority. Many parents say, e.g., “I want my child to be with typical kids.” Okay, what’s behind that? Is it so they have role models because they are a great imitator, or because *you* aren’t ready to have them in special education?

You might not realize what your real priorities are until you start looking around and your instinct says, “YES! That,” or “Oof. No.” That’s okay.

What does your child say?

This depends entirely on your child's age and self-awareness. A four-year-old can't meaningfully answer "what kind of classroom do you need?" But a nine-year-old might have real insights about what helps them focus or which teachers make them feel safe.

For younger kids, try: "What parts of your day are the easiest?" or "When do you feel happy at school?" Listen for clues about what's working. For older kids, you can be more direct: "What parts of your class really help you?" or "If you could change one thing about school, what would it be?"

Take their input with a grain of salt. Your child might be terrified of switching schools even from one that isn't working, or they might just want to be with that girl they're crushing on. But asking sends an important message: your struggles aren't your fault, you deserve support, and we're figuring this out together.

Don't let them make the decision entirely unless you've narrowed it to several options you can live with. You're the adult here. But their perspective matters, especially about what makes things harder or easier for them.

Put the answers to these first three questions in a list. Choose 3-4. You can’t have ten priorities. I’m sorry. You are going to have compromise, even at the best school.  

[a metaphor: this is like dating. People *say* they want a creative partner who loves hiking at sunset, or who is smart, athletic, and handsome, but in reality, they are drawn to someone who exudes competence and makes them laugh. You can’t wait for a gorgeous, hilarious, confident, creative genius who hikes mountains and isn’t allergic to your cat. You have to prioritize. Unless you’re my husband, who won the lottery. Obviously.]

Does the school get it?

Do they understand that behaviour is communication, and that kids are trying as hard as they can? Do they see “problem” behaviour as a sign kids are drowning and need some floaties? Do they have ideas for responding to challenges, or will they ask you for strategies daily? Teachers come and go, so you want school-wide understanding and competence.

Questions that reveal the truth

Schools always say the right things in brochures and on tours. Here are questions that bypass the buzzwords:

Instead of asking general things like "Do you support kids with ADHD?", ask specific scenarios:

• "What systems does the school have in place for children who need a break from the classroom?”

• “Tell me about a time a student had a meltdown. What did you do?”

• "What happens when a child can't sit still during circle time?"

• "How do you handle it when a child's behavior disrupts learning for other students?"

• "Can you give me an example of a behavioural accommodation you've made for a student who was struggling?"

• "What does your discipline policy look like in practice?" (Then compare their answer to the written policy)

Here's what empathetic and experienced answers sound like vs. what they don’t:

Green flags:

• "We had a student who was struggling with transitions, so we gave her a visual schedule and five-minute warnings. It took a few weeks to figure out what worked, but now she's doing great."

• "When kids are dysregulated, we focus on helping them calm down first. We deal with the behavior later, once they're back in their thinking brain."

• "We assume kids are doing their best. If they're not meeting expectations, something's getting in the way, and we try to figure out what."

Red flags:

• "We have very high behavioral expectations here. Kids need to be ready to follow directions."

• "We're very fair: same rules for everyone, no exceptions."

• "We had a child like that once. It was really hard on the other students." (Translation: we couldn't handle them, and we blamed the child.)

• Any answer that focuses on what the child needs to do differently rather than what the school can do to support them.

What to look for (if you get access)

Many districts don't allow classroom visits before enrollment, or only offer quick principal-led building tours. Some let you observe for thirty minutes. Some won't let you through the door. Here's how to use whatever access you get:

If you get no visit at all: Focus on the questions above. Ask to talk to current parents; schools often provide contact info, or you can introduce yourself at pickup. Ask to see the written discipline policy and IEP accommodation procedures. Request a phone call with the actual teacher.

If you get a brief building tour: You're mostly seeing hallways and closed doors, but you can still notice things. Is student work displayed? Does it show a range of abilities, or only the "best" work? When you pass classrooms, what's the energy like: controlled chaos that feels purposeful, or rigid silence, or actual chaos? How does the principal talk about the students: with warmth and respect, or with frustration?

If you get time in a classroom: Watch how adults respond when kids struggle. Is there patience or frustration? Do they get down to the child's level or bark from across the room? When a child makes a mistake, are they supported or shamed? Are kids working on different things (which might mean good differentiation) or is everyone doing exactly the same work in exactly the same way? Do kids who need to move get to move, or are they constantly being corrected for not sitting still?

Trust what you see, not just what you're told. A classroom can look chaotic but actually be working beautifully: kids are engaged, moving purposefully, learning. Or it can look calm but be completely rigid and punitive. Your gut will know the difference.

Trust yourself

What’s your gut instinct?

Sometimes the vibe of the place just feels good. Or wrong. Sometimes the principal says the right things, but you don’t buy it (I failed to trust my gut on this one once. We were looking for new schools by October). Your gut is wise. Trust it.

A caveat: your gut is wise about whether people genuinely care and are competent. Your gut is excellent at detecting when someone's going through the motions versus when they actually get it. But your gut might be lying to you if it's screaming "run away from the special education classroom" because special ed feels scary or shameful to you. Check in with yourself: is this instinct about what's best for my child, or is it about my own fear or grief or what I think other people will judge?

What makes sense for your life?

You have other children, a job, financial considerations, a community. You do not have to bend yourself into miserable pretzels for even the greatest school. You do not have to go into debt for private school, or drag your infant 45 minutes one-way in the car for drop off. You have to consider your whole family system: any stress on that system is going to affect your child. I give you permission to choose the family.

Remember, there is not one “right” answer, only choices that work for now, for your child, and for your family. So don’t get overwhelmed with guilt if you have to say no to something that might’ve worked.

Things to avoid

Don’t let your child’s fear of change or your own fear of the transition scare you off somewhere potentially wonderful. Yes, your child may protest. They may be terrified of the unknown or they may love their teacher and not want to leave them. Yes, the first 30 days at the new school might stink. And also: if this setting is better, if your child gets what they need, they will adapt, and so will you. Thirty days is not much in the context of several years of a better education. 

Don’t try to predict the future. “If I send her to my local school, then in four years when my youngest is ready for kindergarten, they can go to school together.” “If he does grade 2 at this alternative school, he won’t have friends at my local middle school.” You can’t choose a school thinking of the distant future. Look ahead 1-3 years, and trust you’ll sort out the future when you can see what it demands.

Don’t hide your kids’ needs. I know you're scared. You're worried that if they know the truth about how hard things are, they'll say your child can't come, or they'll judge you, or they'll write your kid off before they even start. That fear is real and valid. And also:

It’s unfair to both your child and the school to hide your child’s struggles. You can’t possibly assess how a school will support your child if you conceal information. Teachers can’t possibly set your child up for success if they’re in the dark about her needs. I know: it’s embarrassing, and you worry if the school knows the truth, they’ll say you can’t come. Isn’t it better to know that’s how they feel before you uproot your child for a school that can’t work with them?

Don’t panic. This is a lot to think about, and it feels like your child’s whole life hinges on the decision. Remember: you are choosing a school, not signing a lifelong marriage contract. If it doesn’t work, you can try again, this time with more data. Your child can likely handle a little trial and error. Your child and your family are likely more resilient than you think. After all, they have you on their side.

You're doing the hard work right now. You're researching, asking questions, trying to make the best choice you can with imperfect information and limited options. That matters. Your child is lucky to have someone fighting this hard to get it right. Even if your first choice doesn't work perfectly, you'll figure it out and try again. You've got this.

How can we help?

Come to a Huddle and talk about it with other parents in the same boat.

Talk to me 1:1 about your options, decisions, and how to handle the transition.

Read about school options, or find another article.

School Plans That Actually Help: Safety Plans, IEPs, 504s, and SSPs Explained

It’s the time of year when emails roll in about SSPs, 504s, or IEPs. You get a document to sign, but it’s full of jargon, vagueness, and magical thinking. 

My kids’ IEPs (Individual Education Plans) were always packed with plenty about their problems as an “I” and how they disrupted everyone’s “E,” but very little on what the “P” was to help them.

As an educator, I always wanted my students to have clear, actually helpful plans (most teachers do, but not everyone knows how to make it happen, or has time). 

So, here’s what to include in a school plan (and what to watch out for) so it actually works in real life.

Start with the most important thing

Your child is already trying as hard as they can. They aren’t lazy. They aren’t being defiant to annoy their teachers. They do not wake up and think, “How shall I get myself sent to the naughty bench today?” They’re already doing their best, even when it looks messy, loud, or stressful. If they are not focusing or learning, it’s because something is getting in the way.

Work on Figuring Out What’s Making It Hard before you make a plan, otherwise you’re solving problems without knowing what they are.

Know what kind of plan you’re looking at

IEPs, SSPs, 504s, BSPs, ILPs: the names differ depending on your school district, city, or country, but broadly, plans come in two categories:

1. Safety Plans (Behaviour Support Plans, Crisis Response Plans…) focus on preventing or managing unsafe or escalating situations. [For specific guidance on Safety Plans read How to Create a Safety Plan that Actually Keeps Anyone Safe.]

2. Individual Educational Plans (504s, Student Support Plan, Individual Learning Plan…) focus on learning, accommodations, and skill development. 

Things Your Plan MUST Have

Education, not motivation

The plan should meet your child where they are and recognize that if they aren’t achieving, it’s because they need help learning the skills they are missing. If your school isn’t getting it, try the swimming metaphor. A good plan should not include only the rewards your child will receive if they magically demonstrate new skills without being taught them.

Realistic, measurable, clear goals.

“Carlos will react appropriately 75% of the time” is meaningless. A good plan should include:

• What skills your child needs to learn, specifically

• Clear, realistic, measurable goals

• A plan to monitor progress towards those skills

If the goals seem outrageous or you don’t know how success will be measured, speak up.

A plan for teaching your child the skills they need to get to those goals

This is often where things fall apart. The goals are solid, the accommodations to make tasks easier are in place, but there’s nothing in there about helping the child actually learn what they need to. I am not talking only about academic skills: behavioural skills sometimes need to be taught too. We can't expect children to learn organizational skills without teaching them and supporting them until they get it.

Practical, clear strategies (not vague “assistance”)

No “teacher will provide additional support” or “modification as needed.”

Examples of specific assistance include:

• Visual schedules, directions, and timers

• Task breakdowns or “chunking” into smaller steps

• 1:1 or small group pull-out or in class learning opportunities

• Directions given individually to just your child and understanding confirmed

• Adjusted homework expectations or homework sent home in packets so you can work on it on your own schedule

• Step-by-step guidance for handling transitions into and out of learning activities and school, or for handling belongings, materials, and assignments

• “Secret” signals with the teacher for when your child needs help

You should be able to picture each strategy in action. They should be specific and clearly connected to what your child needs to learn.

If your child struggles with self-regulation, the plan should also include specific, individualized ideas for helping them calm down before things escalate.

Think:

• Short breaks or movement opportunities

• Sensory tools (fidgets, weighted blankets, headphones, sunglasses)

• A calm corner or quiet area

• Check-in or check-out with a trusted adult

• Discrete visual cues or cards for requesting help

• Adjustments to instructions or environment that reduce overwhelm (e.g., giving warnings before transitions, having a buddy for the pick up line)

Don’t forget to include instructions for how adults should respond, not just what your child should do. “Persons working with Carlos are asked to offer him the chance to take a break in the hallway or get a drink of water.” “No physical redirection or restraint.”

Input from your child

Yes, even if they’re little, and especially if they’re older.

Your child’s perspective matters: they’re the ones who have to endure the strategies or get the help. At minimum, they should be prepped on what’s going to happen. Ideally, include their voice in shaping strategies. Ask them:

• What makes you worried or tired at school?

• What would make that easier for you?

• What do you wish adults knew about how school feels for you?

Older kids and teens can usually handle more detailed involvement if approached with care.

What Should NOT Be in the Plan

Generic motivation systems. Unless they’re for very specific, achievable behaviors your child *already can do consistently.*

Anything you don’t understand. If you can’t picture it in real life and school can’t explain it, it’s not useful.

Things the teacher already knows won’t happen. Don't agree to or insist on "nice on paper" ideas that sound good but aren't realistic.

Anything that puts the entire burden on your child. A plan should support learning and coping, not make the child fix everything alone.

The bottom line: if you can't picture it happening on a Tuesday afternoon when your kid is having a rough day, it's not going to work. You have every right to ask questions, push for clarity, and make sure this plan actually helps your child succeed.

You got this.

[I have so many more ideas! Need help figuring out what might work for your child? Let’s talk]

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How to Manage Your School Meeting

I’ve been to countless school meetings on both sides of the table. They’re rarely easy. But they’re often the only chance we have to make school work better for our kids.

That said, I cannot estimate how many times I’ve been hauled into the principal’s office (camp office, rabbi’s office, taekwondo master’s office...) to hear a litany of terrible things my child did when they were struggling. It’s mortifying, it’s disruptive, and it always seems to come right when you thought things were improving.

The most important thing: keep the focus on what your child needs, not what they do when they don’t get it. Keep bringing the conversation back to struggles and solutions, not blame.

[If this all feels hard, we can help. I’ve opened extra 1:1 slots this month for families navigating back-to-school. Sign up here. Or join our workshop on Managing School Meetings. Both are free and online.]

Some practical advice

Let go of embarrassment. 

I know. This is SO HARD. But your child is struggling. They’re communicating, asking for help in the ways they have access to at that moment. If that communication looks like disruptive or even aggressive behaviour, it is not a moral or parental failing.

When the school tells you what’s happening, instead of collapsing into guilt, mortification, and indignation (I have been there), say:

"Oh, it sounds like she was really miserable. I’m glad she has a school that understands these behaviours are the only way she can tell us she’s struggling. Let’s talk about what we can put in place to help."

This is not your fault.

Treat them like your team.

Even when it feels like the school is getting it wrong, most staff are doing their best inside a system that isn’t set up to support your child. That doesn’t excuse poor decisions, but it does change the way we approach the conversation.

Even if you disagree with them, if you can act like you’re on the same team, you’ll get further. I’m not saying every school is amazing, or that anger is never justified. I’m also not ignoring the way that many parents, especially Black and Brown parents, have their reasonable concerns misread or dismissed as hostility. That’s widespread, and it makes this even harder.

It’s not fair that the burden so often falls on parents or that schools don’t have the resources they need to be the expert support they should. And also: if you want the meeting to be helpful, you have to manage the meeting.

If they don’t understand, teach them. Not "She only hit that kid in math because YOU didn’t..." but "When she does these things, it tells us she’s overwhelmed. How can we help her feel safer?"

If they say they don’t have the resources, ask: "Who can I contact to help us get them?" If you can escalate together, all the better.

Get the context in advance.

Ask the teacher to come with data – not a tally of every misstep, but specific patterns:

• When is it happening? Afternoons? Music? Waiting her turn? “It happens all the time” is not useful or likely.

• What seems to trigger it?

• What has worked, even a little? Or, when is there NEVER a problem?

Have an agenda. 

The goal is to leave with a concrete plan to help your child. The agenda could include:

Making a list of what seems to be hard. 

Activities, times of day, skills she’s lacking. Remember: keep the focus on what she needs, not what she did when she didn’t have it. Then, prioritize 1-2 most important things to tackle.

Making a “right away” plan.

It’s okay if this includes short-term “band-aid” fixes. They might feel extreme. That’s okay. It is not okay to send a child into a situation every day without support when we already know it’s not working.

If she gets 20 minutes of Lego in the library instead of melting down at math time, she’s not "missing learning." She’s protecting her sense of self. And if she’s melting down two days a week in math, she’s spending the other three trying not to, white-knuckling through it with clenched fists and a frozen smile. She isn’t learning math anyway.

When someone inevitably says, "But she has to learn math eventually!" you can say, "Of course. What can we put in place long-term?"

Making a longer-term plan.

This should answer the question of how she’s going to learn math for the rest of the year.

More, it needs to say how she is going to build the skills she is lacking that are making sitting in math hard. If she has a really hard time sitting still and focusing, the plan can’t be “she will try harder and earn stickers for focusing.” It needs to say how she will build those skills.

Recapping the next steps

Confirm the plan out loud. Something like:

"Okay, so we’re doing X and Y starting tomorrow. I’ll talk to Carla tonight and make sure she understands. I’ll send the headphones in her backpack. Ms. Frizzle will remind her to get them before lunch. Principal Slinger will contact the board OT, and we’ll start trying those strategies. Ms. Frizzle will track what seems to help for the next week. Is that right?"

Then ask: When do we meet again?

Take notes. 

This gives you a record and a reason to pause if you need a moment. You can bring someone with you to take notes, too.

The agenda should NOT include:

• What’s wrong with your parenting

• What’s wrong with the teacher

• Re-hashing past incidents

• How to make your child more motivated (she’s already trying)

• How hard this is on other children at school (Yes, it matters, truly, and also the best way to help those kids is to help yours).

• How mad other parents are (This is on the school to manage and simply unkind to share with you.)

• Other children’s behaviours, diagnoses, or discipline (they can't share that, just like they shouldn't share yours).

Follow up. 

Remember to send the headphones! Explain the plan to your child. Let her know what’s going to be different. Ask how it went. Email the school with a quick summary and add:

"Please let me know if I’ve missed anything. Otherwise, I’ll assume we’re moving forward and I’ll see you all on the 13th."

This isn’t (just) about evidence. It’s a shared record, and a reminder.

Say thank you. 

Yes, this is the teacher and the school’s job, and yes, they will try to help your child regardless.  But, we teachers don’t get a lot of appreciation from adults. It’s nice to be thanked for our extra effort.

REMEMBER:

If you need help figuring out how to make a plan, or even just how to survive the next meeting, that’s what we do. Reach out here.

I send monthly ideas in our newsletter, no fluff, no spam, no paywall.

You’re not alone. Your child isn’t alone. We’re cheering for both of you.

More to read:

• It’s Not About the Behaviour

• It’s Not Your Fault

• You Are Not Alone

• Blog Table of Contents

Getting school ready to go back to your child

We hear a lot about how to get your child ready for Back to School.

But all the prep in the world won’t help a child if school overwhelms them or doesn’t meet their needs. So, really, it’s time to get the school ready to go back to your child. How?

Re-frame your own thinking 

If you do just one thing, remember this: “behaviour” challenges are simply the language of unmet needs. 

Children who can’t express their distress in other ways show it through their behaviour. That means there’s no reason to be embarrassed, to worry whether the school likes you, to think your child doesn’t deserve help, or to worry it’s all your fault. I know that’s hard too.

Talk to school *before* things crumble

If you do just one thing, frame the conversation so they see your child as struggling, not “bad.”

Set up a meeting: “I’d like to talk so we can start the school year with a solid plan for supporting my child.” You’ll discuss situations where your child has struggled and work to proactively address them.

From there, shape the discussion in three big ways:

1. Remind them it’s not about the behaviour. Your child is overwhelmed or overtaxed by the environment or expectations. She’s not “bad.”

• If you hear “stubborn," "violent," ”attention-seeking,” or other awful things, interrupt to re-frame: she is a child who is having a hard time, not an enemy.

• Equip teachers with empathy in advance. “Sometimes, when she’s anxious, she might sound disrespectful. She doesn’t mean to be. I’m so glad she has a teacher who will understand that.”

1. ”Focus on what he *needs*, not what he did when he didn’t get it. Not “Last year he hit kids in line,” but “Last year he needed more support when waiting in line. What can we do this year to help him?”

• Don’t re-litigate the past. Reminding them “the other child yelled at her first” and rehashing the school’s missteps don’t build empathy. What creates empathy is explaining: yelling is her way of saying “please help me.”

• Don’t let school drag you into a litany of past incidents: you are not the therapist responsible for helping them get over the stress of caring for your kid. Refocus: “I’m so glad you are taking this seriously. What is the plan moving forward to help, so she isn’t in this overwhelming situation again?”

3. Make sure the plan isn’t just “try harder.” If she is missing regulation skills, two things must happen: lower the expectations and help her learn the skills. A sticker chart does neither. Ask: How can we adapt her environment to make it easier? And how will the school teach her those skills, the same way would if she struggled with math?

Don’t rely on the school’s internal communication

The one thing: Assume nobody else is sharing your child’s story for you.

You can’t count on last year’s teacher sitting down with this year’s teacher. The new teacher may have gotten an IEP or 504, but also got 17 others that sound almost the same.

What I like to use is a Student Snapshot. This is a one-page overview for anyone who interacts with your child: gym teacher, lunchroom attendant, recess monitor. Use it to make sure they don’t have a great day but then get set off by the substitute bus driver.

It says: 

• Here’s what this child struggles with

• Here’s what you might see

• Here’s what that indicates

• Here’s how to help in the moment.

You can download a fillable PDF here and make as many copies as you need. 

 Stick with anything that worked

The one thing: carry over what worked last year. This is not the time to test “does she still need that accommodation?” 

If it was working last year, keep it this year. If things go swimmingly, then you can challenge your child, but not in September.

You might not know what worked; it might not be in a formal plan. Teachers often have “little things” they do that never get written down: making eye contact before giving directions, watching for a leg jiggle as an early sign of escalation.

If you had a great teacher last year, ask them. If the camp went well or your kid thrives in art class, ask there. Borrow those ideas and bring them to school this year.

If your child is moving into a “ramp up” year like kindergarten, grade 1, or middle school, it’s even more important to make sure they have supports you know work.

You don’t have to figure this out on your own.

That’s what we do at The Huddle for Families: We help families problem-solve what might be making things hard, what might help, and how to make sure support happens.

How we can help:

Read more: Figuring Out What’s Making It Hard

Talk: We offer free, online 1:1 coaching. We work with families to problem-solve, create plans, and advocate to make sure they happen.

Join: Our Back-to-School workshop series. All our events are free, online, and have limited spaces

Stay connected: Get more advice and practical strategies in our monthly newsletter. No spam, no fluff, no selling your info.

Have a good beginning of the year: we’re thinking of you.

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Surviving and thriving at the doctor’s

Confession: this is a “do as I say, not as I did” post. I was not always a great advocate for my kids at the doctor’s office (see also: dentist, PT, therapist, ER…). I spent energy worrying about the provider liking us, thinking I was a good mom, and not judging my kid. I trusted too much – not that the professionals knew what they were doing (I think most of them do – this is not a rant against doctors, most of whom are amazing, overworked, and trying their hardest to help kids and families), but that they knew what they were doing for MY specific children. When I disagreed, I did it shyly; when I advocated, I asked vaguely ("It's a little loud in here?") instead of directly stating our needs ("Please turn down the TV before my kid and I both lose our minds."). I didn’t always stand strong when the front desk said no.

I know better and do better now. After all, almost everyone one a health care professional sees has some kind of disability or struggle, at least on that day, or they wouldn’t be there. That makes it the perfect place to model effective self-advocacy for your child. Which means it’s okay to ask for clarifications, accommodations, and different ideas. 

It’s okay to make sure you understand. It’s okay to ask the doctor to slow down. It’s okay to ask them to say the whole thing over again. It is okay to ask for a extra time so you can: 

• Take notes

• Ask one more question

• Bring a support person or interpreter

• Give your child (or yourself) processing time

• Help your child regulate before continuing so you can focus on the discussion and not on whatever your child is doing under that chair

Any good doctor *wants* you to understand the plan and feel confident. When the doctor ends the appointment, it’s okay to say,, “Let me make sure I understand.” Then summarize in your own words.

It’s okay to ask:

• How long until this helps? What's next if it doesn't?

• What warning signs should I watch for?

• Who do I contact with questions?

• Would you recommend this same approach if my child [didn’t have Down syndrome/autism/developmental delays, wasn’t overweight, used spoken language…]?

It’s okay to ask for accommodations. It’s okay to bring your child’s noise cancelling headphones and not make them greet anyone.  It’s okay to tell the trainee that your “history” contains sensitive, possibly embarrassing information, so you’d like to tell it once, to the doctor, and not repeatedly as a training exercise. Or that you’d like time alone to tell it. It’s okay to ask in advance what will happen at the appointment, so you can properly prepare a child who hates surprises. It’s okay to refuse to have your child weighed, if they’re sensitive about it. It’s also okay to ask to break long appointments up. The dentist can do half the teeth this week, and half next week. 

It’s okay to manage your wait time. It’s okay to ask how late the doctor is running and to say you’re going for a walk in the meantime. It’s okay to ask if there is a quieter, less crowded place to wait. It’s definitely okay to tell your child that the rules around screen time do not apply at the doctor’s office waiting room.

It’s okay to disagree. We can respect experts while saying, "That doesn't sound right" or "That suggestion won't work for our family; what else can we try?"  It’s okay to correct a doctor’s misunderstandings or incorrect assumptions. It’s okay to tell them something is a mismatch with your family values. It’s definitely okay to disagree if the provider doesn’t understand that you and your child are already doing the best you can or that your child’s struggles do not represent moral failings or lack of effort on their part or yours.

Of course, I know you are respectful. I know you don’t treat health care providers like servants or believe they invented science and medicine as a way to make kids sicker and get rich quick. You can be respectful and still model for your child that sometimes you have to disagree or ask twice for what you need.

The important thing is to remember what’s important. Getting your child proper healthcare, understanding the plan so you can execute it effectively, and modeling great self-advocacy for well-deserved accommodations are all important. Everyone loving you is not important. Don’t waste energy trying to change a judgmental nurse’s mind about your kid’s behaviour. And definitely don’t use it up testing your own ability to remain calm with Cocomelon blaring at full volume in an empty waiting room.

(find more articles)

Placement for Kindergarten (or any step, really)

“What class is right for my child??”

Sometimes it feels like I re-visited this every year for my kids’ entire childhood. And my own mother once told me her first response when I got into university was, “Oh thank goodness, I never have to worry about Jacqui’s school again.”

Honestly, there’s no “right” answer. 

There’s only the answer that works for your child and your family, for now. Nowhere is perfect: it’s a matter of prioritizing and deprioritizing. First, some real talk about what your options might be.*

Realistically, most school districts only have a few “levels” of support

Regular classroom. In Toronto, this usually means 29 kids, a teacher, and an Early Childhood Educator (ECE). Sometimes there’s also a Special Needs Assistant (SNA) who’s shared amongst all the kids who need help. 

Regular classes can include integrated extra support (this is written into a child’s Individual Education Plan, which might be called an IEP, IPP, 504, or something else). It is very rare to get individualized 1:1 support for your child in these classes. Sometimes regular classroom placement includes “pull out” special education, where your child leaves his peers and has time with a special educator or “resource specialist,” either for a specific subject or for part of the day. Pull out can also include Occupational Therapy, Speech Language Pathology, and more. At the heart, these are all add-ons to a regular placement, and what’s available will depend on your school, your district, and your child. These supports can sometimes take a while to set up, so they might not be in place right away when your child starts.

Alternative/charter/private/smaller classes. Many school districts have options for smaller classrooms or classrooms that focus, for example, on social-behavioural learning. These are sometimes structured to provide more support within the regular workings of the classroom (meaning the teacher is thinking in advance about what kids might need and builds it into the program before anyone starts to struggle). Some alternative/charter/private schools also offer educational support through pull-out programs or have SNAs in the classroom. Others might be too small to have the resources to provide “extras.”

Special education class in a regular school. This is a self-contained special education classroom that is “housed” in a regular school. In Toronto, these kindergartens are called “Diagnostic Kindergartens” or DK; other places have “transitional kindergarten” or “special day classes.” These are usually smaller (8-10 kids with two educators), and are supposed to be designed to help kids develop the skills they need to eventually enter the regular education stream. Many of them have opportunities to integrate with the rest of the school for certain periods. Sometimes these are separated by diagnosis or need; other times (Toronto), each class can have a full range of kids’ needs, so the “vibe” of the classroom can vary widely. Also varying is the level of academic achievement/expectation; in Toronto, DKs follow the regular Ontario curriculum, which means if your child is capable of that, they should be able to get it, but if they are not, they should receive extra support. In many places, special day classes’ level of academic expectation is set by the teacher, depending on the class. 

Special education school. These are schools entirely for children with disabilities. They’re called “congregated” settings or “intensive support programs.” These are usually for children who require full-day, very intensive support, often due to severe disability. In some places, these have classrooms for children with specific diagnoses, such as autistic kids with high support and safety needs. There are also some schools (often private) serving specific groups of kids, such as kids with learning disabilities or autism. Those programs vary widely in their capacity to help/handle children with behavioural challenges.

In truth, there’s a wide range of options, even within each of these levels. My last “regular” kindergarten class was 14 students with two teachers. 8 kids had Individual Plans for various reasons, but they also had me as a teacher, so the whole classroom was designed with built-in supports and accommodations. It’s possible (but hard) to find something close to what your child needs.

Except: you don’t always know what your child needs, and it doesn’t always exist where you can access it. We try to get close enough. The way I describe it is this: there is a classroom that offers too much support and a classroom that offers not nearly enough. Your child’s classroom is somewhere in the middle, and you might have to try some things out to narrow it down. It’s like finding the right dress for an event: you can have the best image in the world in your head, but at some point, you have to choose from amongst what is actually at the store.

Additionally, your choices will be driven by your own family’s needs: your other children, your values and priorities, your finances, time, and other resources, and everything else you are juggling in addition to this one four year-old. Please remember that is both allowed and encouraged: we all have to decide what we can sacrifice for one child and when we need to figure out another way.

Who decides?

I’m talking here as if parents announce to the school district, “I want that class,” and it happens easily. Not really. In many districts, the process for special education placement is arduous and restrictive, the goal being to integrate as many children as possible, whether or not typical classrooms are able to accommodate them. In Toronto, for example, there are layers of meetings and assessments before you even can get a Special Education Placement Recommendation Committee meeting, even for some kids who clearly will flame out in a typical classroom. Some districts have no (or super limited) special education at all for kindergarten; they just figure they’ll see who fails and work it out for grade 1. In most districts in Canada and the US, though, parents are supposed to be invited to participate in the process and have approval/rejection rights over any placement. Does this always happen? Hmph.

[interruption: I love attending placement meetings. This is a service The Huddle for Families offers, so if you want professional-seeming back-up at your placement meeting from someone who can throw around education terms and isn’t afraid to speak up, or if you want help making a plan in advance, let’s talk.]

So, how do I decide?

That is the real question, I know. Read on for advice and ideas on how to choose a school.

Or, sign up to Zoom 1:1 with me and talk it out.

* reality may vary depending on your district, of course

How to create a Safety Plan that actually keeps anyone safe.

This month, many parents got that letter from the school. Maybe it makes it sound like your child is a hardened violent criminal. Maybe it has terrifying phrases like “presents danger to self and others", “call 911,” and “physical restraint.” It’s scary and mortifying. Teachers get these plans, generic, full of “strategies” that aren’t helpful in the moment of crisis, and containing little that seems like it will keep anyone safe.

It doesn’t have to be that way. A solid Safety Plan is actually a super useful tool. It’s simply a set of instructions and interventions for adults to use when a child becomes overwhelmed or distressed. It’s supposed to follow a child around the school, so that every adult — every lunchroom attendant, every temporary teacher, every after school helper — know what signs indicate that child is becoming distressed, and what to do to keep them from escalating or to de-escalate if it’s too late.

Unfortunately, too often, these plans are not helpful. Here’s how to fix that.

If all this seems like too much (or you don’t have time to read because who does?), let’s figure it out together.

Start BEFORE things escalate.

Most plans begin after a child has begun shrieking or throwing things. This is too late. You need a plan that starts when it’s still possible to ward off the crisis.

Check out our Downloadables page for a template you can use.

The first thing in the plan should be a list of the kinds of situations that are hard for the child (e.g., assemblies in the gym). Some plans call these “triggers.” I prefer “stressors.” Alongside, you’ll have a list of ways to make those situations easier (“Mari may choose to sit on a chair at the side of the gym, rather than on the floor with her classmates”).

Then, instead of only addressing crises, you create the plan in stages:

• Stage one: anxiety or discomfort (this is where something has triggered the child, and they are starting to have feelings about it)

• Stage two: frustration or defensiveness (things are starting to heat up, but a crisis is still preventable)

• Stage three: crisis or loss of control (this is where people need to switch into de-escalating)

For each of these stages, you’ll list:

• What to look for and listen for (what are the clues this child is anxious or uncomfortable?)

• What to do about it (what to say and how to help your child feel safe, understood, and able to stay regulated)

Individualize the plan to your child.

Again, these plans are often generic. Some of the clues are things a lot of kids do. But each child has indicators specific to them, so make sure the plan includes those, and be as specific as possible (“difficulty finishing sentences or repeats questions over and over” or “takes deep inhales and huffs exhales”). The hope is that the adult in a child’s life sees these clues and thinks, “ Aha! I know what’s happening here. He’s distressed. Let me use the language/strategies in his plan.”

Similarly, the strategies and interventions you offer need to be individualized. What actually helps this child when they’re upset? If possible, ask the child. (If you want help thinking of ideas, we can help)

Make the strategies actionable and specific.

“Make child feel safe” and “use gentle words” are not specific strategies. We’re looking more for “Allow child to access their safe space/headphones/special toy” (and be specific about what/where those are) and “Using a calm tone of voice, tell Mari she is not in trouble, and ask what she needs.” I am a huge fan of direct quotes. They take the guesswork out for teachers and other adults and comfort children because they’re familiar (“Say, ‘Mari, I notice you’re wringing your hands. How can I help?”). I am also a fan of pre-set spaces, objects, and assistive communication tools (“Ask if Mari would like to use her flashcards to choose a ‘calm down’ activity. These are located in the fanny pack Mari wears each day.”).

Look, children don’t think straight when they are distressed, and adults don’t think straight when they’re stressed a child is headed to crisis. A good plan provides adults with specific language and strategies, so they don’t have to invent them on the spot, and so they can remain calm because they know what to do if things ramp up.

List the safe helpers

We all work better with some people than others. A child may have their distress magnified or mitigated depending on who comes to help. Good Safety Plans list 3-4 “safe helpers” that any adult can call to assist the child. Here is a tip: if the people on a child’s list are the same people who come when that child gets in big trouble, their appearance is unlikely to de-escalate anything. Find some “neutral” teachers or support staff whose “Hey buddy, you okay?” has a chance of helping.

Don’t forget repair and re-entry.

Your plan should include Stage Four: recovery, re-entry, repair, or restore. This is an essential part of helping the child learn, helping other children feel safe, and making sure the child feels welcomed back to the community. This is not punishment. It is making sure a child is okay after what was, trust me, a super difficult time for them. It is conversation and question-asking, and giving everyone involved space to express feelings and make amends. Classroom restorative practice programs can really help. The important things are that there is a plan for re-entry that focuses on support and learning, not “consequences” and forced apologies.

Don’t go overboard.

The meat of this needs to fit on one piece of paper, or it will simply be too much to expect new/temporary adults to access. Focus on strategies for prevention and hit the most important ones.

Children should not be physically restrained.

They should not be wrestled to the ground, locked into rooms, receive corporal punishment, or be screamed at. If a child’s plan doesn’t state this outright, add it in. These things cause trauma that lasts well after the crisis ends. Plus, they don’t work to de-escalate anything. Would “safe restraint” techniques work to de-escalate you?

Have the meeting

Most of the time, these letters come with an offer to meet to discuss the plan. Have that meeting. Ask that as many people involved with your child as possible are there. Come in with draft plan ideas and be ready to project manage the meeting. Ask, “What’s the school’s process for making sure everyone working with my child understands this plan?” Teachers, make sure parents feel the plan is appropriate. If they want you to engage in strategies you feel won’t work or are inappropriate, you’ll need to explain.

Get help.

Come to a Huddle.

Talk to us 1:1.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.

When a child can’t swim, we don’t punish them for struggling.

If a child can’t swim, we don’t offer them stickers for staying afloat in the deep end. We offer them something that helps, like floaties, or we let them hang on to the wall. Sometimes, we let them stay in the shallow end until they feel confident.

We don’t just leave it at that, though. We teach them. We show them how to put their face in the water and blow bubbles, how to kick and tread water. We hold them, promising them they are safe, until they can do it alone. We don’t worry that if one kid has floaties, all the other kids will want them. We don’t take the floaties before they are ready, saying, “Well, they’re going to have to learn someday.” And we don’t worry that if we hold children up and promise them they are safe, they will never want to learn to swim.

When they falter, if they can’t make it across the pool, and they go down, a lifeguard jumps in. We don’t leave them there to teach them a lesson, even if they were misbehaving when we taught them to tread. And when they surface, stressed and spluttering, if in fighting for what feels like their lives, they flail and smack the lifeguard or spit pool water on another kid, we don’t yell that they should be more in control. We don’t decide that they are “violent.” We don’t “safe restrain” them. 

When children (and adults) are overwhelmed or panicking, it can feel like drowning, like you are sinking to the bottom of the pool, spluttering and begging for help. Sometimes, you think you are begging for help, but adults see flailing and hear shrieking. Sometimes you get help. Sometimes the people you’ve been told are there to help offer only angry words or a lecture on respect or a physical restraint.

If a child can’t swim, we don’t chalk it up to “behaviour.” We don’t introduce them to a very calm, very nice lady with a folder full of stickers who will try to convince them that the next time, when they are drowning and in fear of their life, instead of flailing and sputtering, what we who have promised to hold them safe really want them to do is to take a deep breath.

What if we believed that every child was already trying their hardest to learn other things too? What if we agreed to interpret children’s behaviourally flailing and failing and yelling as cries for help, like we do in the pool? What if, instead of punishing or labeling, we worked to help them not panic, or to uncover what is making it hard and to offer children the accommodations they need?

The Huddle for Families helps parents and communities try things this way, to see “bad” behaviour as a cry for help, and to problem solve what children need to feel safe, competent, and at home. If your child is struggling, and you want a different way too, come on in.

Want to read more or find a specific article? Start here.