When Professionalism Slips: Navigating a Difficult IEP Meeting as a Parent Advocate

As a parent of a medically complex child, I’ve sat through more meetings than I can count—IEPs, 504s, consults, evaluations. I’m no stranger to conversations about goals, services, and what’s “best.” But every once in a while, an experience stands out—not because it was helpful, but because it was deeply disappointing.

Recently, during what should have been a standard IEP transition meeting, a member of the team took the conversation in a direction I didn’t see coming. What started as an update on supports turned into a 20-minute personal rant—about her own child, her opinions on therapy, and, ultimately, a suggestion that we were somehow doing our child a disservice by continuing therapies. According to her, we were "not letting our child be a kid.”

I sat there, stunned. Not because I’m unfamiliar with unsolicited advice (that comes with the territory), but because this was supposed to be a professional, collaborative space centered around our child’s needs—not passive-aggressive judgment.

Let me be clear: our child is thriving because of the supports we’ve fought for. Therapy has been a lifeline. We’re not “keeping her from being a kid”—we’re making sure she gets to stay one, safely and joyfully.

Later, I was told that this outburst may have been rooted in frustration with our private providers. But even if that were true, I fail to see how that justifies treating a family this way. It was two separate issues. We didn’t come to that meeting to be lectured—we came to partner.

I want to share this not to stir up conflict, but because this moment is one so many parents quietly carry: the meetings that leave us drained instead of empowered. The times when we show up to advocate, only to be talked over, dismissed, or made to feel like we’re failing our children for choosing a different path than what someone else believes is “right.”

To the professionals reading this: we want to work with you. We need you. But respect goes both ways. A one-sided rant, however heartfelt, is not a dialogue. A suggestion that we pull back essential services isn’t support—it’s harm dressed up as concern.

To the parents: if you’ve been in this seat, you are not alone. You are not “too much.” You are not wrong for speaking up. And you don’t need to apologize for expecting professionalism, especially when the stakes are your child’s growth and well-being.

This wasn’t just about one meeting. It was about drawing a line—and saying,

“This wasn’t okay, and we deserve better.”

And we do.