Truth, Paperwork & Pushback. Stories, strategy and sarcasm.

Nobody ever talks about how hard it is for a stay at home mom to go back to work after years of solving problems for her little people. You do not just return to the workforce. You grieve an identity you did not realize you lost. I did not want to give up my career. I worked hard for it. I earned it. I never went to college. Not because I was not smart. Not because I was lazy. I was struggling with something I did not understand at the time. School was always hard for me. When I finally had enough credits to graduate, I was done. Because I did not have a degree, I had to work harder to prove myself. I landed a position as a Life Claim Analyst at a major insurance company because someone believed in me enough to open a door. The training was intense. Four to five weeks of nonstop learning, and I loved every minute of it. I did not realize until then how much I loved analyzing things. Looking back, that makes perfect sense. In just four months, I went from analyst to Senior Life Claim An...

In the spring of my son’s senior year, I requested his K-3 reading screeners. With the advocacy lens I have now, I just wanted to see them. What did we miss? What did THEY miss? Was there anything in those early years pointing toward dyslexia? Because it still hits me that it took until 8th grade for anyone to truly recognize there was something going on, and even then, it wasn’t the school who figured it out. I wrote the email, reread it probably 159 times, and finally pressed send. My friend and I always use the same phrase after sending something like that: “And now we wait.” Part of me wasn’t even sure if I really wanted to see the results. I knew they could make me angry or sad or confused, or all of the above. But early literacy data isn’t random paperwork. It’s the foundation of a child’s educational story. So when I got the follow-up saying they couldn’t find them, I felt sick. Wait… what? How do you lose screeners? Aren’t they part of a child’s record? How is this even ...

How did I keep going when I felt hopeless and powerless? That’s a tough question to answer. Bottom line, I sure as hell wasn’t accepting failure when it came to my kids’ future, just like I never accepted it for mine. To backtrack a little bit, I too struggled in school. I was born in the late 70’s and learning disabilities were just not a big thing at that time. I always wanted to do well and couldn’t understand why I kept failing - I knew I was smart, but school was hard. Every August, I promised myself I’d finally get my act together - study, read, do the work. By mid-October, I was toast. School was so overwhelming to me that it crushed my soul. It made me feel worthless, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be successful. I remember being in some sort of pull-out reading intervention in Elementary School. And I remember feeling like a loser for being in there. I’m not sure why that intervention ever stopped, but I can tell you it was a mistake. I didn’t read a book cover to ...

I’ve been talking with a few families in my district lately. They’re struggling to find the right school for their children. And it hit me—I never really found one for my own son either. I guess I didn’t fully put it together back then—that there wasn’t a school out there that could meet his needs. Because in the end, he did graduate. Not in the traditional way, but through a small, quiet ceremony. The most important thing is that he has his high school diploma. But getting there… let’s just say I’m certain it took at least 20 years off my life. And for him, it created a deep distrust of humanity that I can never erase. The families I’ve been talking with have different stories, different struggles. But we share one heartbreaking truth: we never found a school for our kids. There is no placement for children who have survived years of being forced to mold themselves into environments that were never built for them. And here’s the hardest part: all of this could have been avoide...

 I tend to over communicate. Is that a bad thing? Maybe sometimes. But in this case, it was extremely helpful. I’d lay awake at night writing emails in my head. I was always thinking… How can I fix this? Really, what am I missing? What are THEY missing? When things got bad in 7th grade, I combed through my emails. Much to my surprise, I was able to find messages I had written to the school all the way back in 2nd grade. I didn’t know it at the time I wrote them, but those emails told a story—the story of me pleading for help. Each of those emails was met with Band-Aids that never worked. On repeat. From K through 7th grade. Until they had no choice but to address them. Those emails are what got my son outplaced to a private school in an IEP meeting—which is rare. I’m still a little shocked at how easy it was to get them to agree to it. I’ve heard horror stories about families being forced into due process and how hard it is to win. I was told it depends on the mood of the roo...

 Let’s talk about the emotional trauma you experience as a parent advocating for your child. Never in a million years had I imagined this was even a thing when I sent my first child to school. I truly believed they had his best interests at heart and would do whatever was needed to help him learn and grow. Well, that thought didn’t last very long. “What do you mean you don’t see that he can’t sit still? Or that he can’t focus for more than five seconds? Or write with normal spacing and letter height on the lines of the paper?” “So wait, you’re saying it’s okay that he’s writing letters backwards?” That one still throws me for a loop. “We can read what he writes,” they said. Eventually, it turned into: “It’s just his ADHD.” And I fell for it. Repeatedly. I walked out of every meeting feeling like an overprotective mom. That mom. And it didn’t just end with my oldest son. It continued with my other children too. “We don’t see that here.” Okay, great. Just because you don’t...

  I can promise you that no parent walks into that room wanting to fight. All we want is for the school district to understand who our child is, what they struggle with, and brainstorm how the district can support those little humans that we love so much. You spend many nights before the meeting lying awake, role-playing in your head. You spend your days researching, overthinking, preparing, and looking for any past evidence you can find to prove your point. Then you walk into that meeting. You, a regular education teacher, a special education teacher, an “administrator,” and anyone else who can contribute—which sometimes can be multiple other people. You hear that you are just as much a part of the team as the many other people in that room. But are you? Because it seems to me that you’re outnumbered. The school team asks for your input, which you give. The input you’ve spent days gathering. The input that you think will hold a lot of weight… And then you hear it. Those fiv...

If you had asked me what your future looked like back in February of 2020, my answer wouldn’t have been a very positive one. February 2020 is a time I wish I could take away from your story. Watching you struggle the way you did was one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced. It is a place I would not wish on anyone.   And yet — through your own hard work and perseverance, you kept moving forward.   In 8th grade, when we finally discovered that your challenges were rooted in dyslexia, it gave you the understanding you had deserved all along.   Instead of being a victim, you made a choice: you were going to learn. And you did.   That drive. That determination. That is why we are here today.   You worked harder than anyone saw to get here. You faced things most adults couldn’t handle — and you never stopped being the incredible person you are.   And let’s be honest — I’ve been one step ahead of your emotions your whole life. You still look at me like, “HOW do ...

The Connecticut General Assembly Special Education Committee recently held a Special Education Listening Tour at four locations throughout the state where I read the following testimony that I wrote. It was an honor to have the opportunity to speak. And spoiler alert, I didn't make it through without crying! Hello, my name is Robin Beauchemin. I live in Southington, CT. · Kindergarten · 1st grade · 2nd grade · 3rd grade · 4th grade · 5th grade · 6th grade · 7th grade · 8th grade 9 years in our public school system… That is how long it took to figure out that my son has dyslexia. For context, until he had an outside evaluation that diagnosed his dyslexia, he never had anything more than a 504. During this time, I could not work because my son was refusing to go to school. Because every single day that he showed up, he felt inadequate. The school trauma is so embedded in his brain that now, as a senior in high s...

  Groundhog Day, again. But this time I wasn’t dreading it because I thought it’d be a tough year – but because my little boy, the kid that made me a mom and taught me so much about myself, was about to enter his senior year of high school. And I’m dreading the day that he grows up and moves out. The one positive from this nightmare we had been living is that it has brought us very close. He’s been my hiking buddy, lunch buddy, grocery shopping buddy…. He’s just always there. He’s continuing his tutoring at the library. He has a very light schedule: OG, math, independent health, shop class and independent gym. Second semester will be even lighter. OG. That’s it! One important thing to understand is the gap that being identified as a dyslexic learner so late in life can leave. For example, when he was identified in 8th grade, he was reading at a 5th grade level. That means he was 3 years behind. Now as a 12th grader, he is reading at a 10th grade level, which means he is still 2 y...

  I’m sick of this Groundhog Day crap. I think by year 11 I was starting to lose my positive attitude. We have exactly two more school years, 360 school days to figure this out. But wow, we are quickly running out of time. All those older people who told me to enjoy it because it goes by so fast, yeah – I guess you weren’t kidding. Anyway, onward and upward – mostly because there isn’t another choice. Remember the special education coordinator that I was unsure of? I am now sure that she is the most PHENOMENAL school employee I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. She instantly fell in love with my son. She even supported his side business by purchasing a dog silhouette made of wood from him. She was what we needed 11 years ago. And although I’m sad she’s just walking into our lives now; SHE was the answer we needed; I think. Long story short, December came and here we were again with the headaches and the stomach aches. Lots of “I don’t feel good”, lack of sleep, spending a lot...

  Groundhog Day! Another start of a new school year. Another round of uncertainty and anxiety. Another year of false hope….. Why is this so hard to figure out? We have a great understanding of your learning profile. And you are such a likeable kid. So, what exactly was happening throughout your day that was making you so unhappy? Here we were again with our billionth+ IEP meeting. This time though, I was smarter. I had spent the last two years taking every single webinar or zoom presentation I could find that related to advocacy and dyslexia. I read books; I reached out to friends that had been down the same road. I read and reread your evaluations. I was so empowered and determined to find the answer I had been searching for. I proposed that the district send you for an Independent Educational Evaluation. Specifically, I wanted a comprehensive speech and language evaluation. Was there a barrier with your language that perhaps was making it difficult for you to fit in? Naturally, t...

  Ok… Here we go again… breathe in, breathe out. Anxiety seemed to be our new normal. It was the first day of a new beginning. A fresh start. A LOT of uncertainty and unfamiliarity. I figured if we made it through the nightmare we had just been through, we could get through this, right? Your driver showed up, pulled into the driveway, introduced themselves and took you on a 45-minute drive to a private school a few towns away. I secretly was mourning the loss of our time together, but so thankful for this new opportunity. You deserve to be able to walk into a school and feel like you fit in. And I was certain that was what this school was going to be for you. You came home happy, but exhausted. That didn’t last as long as I had hoped it would. Remember the false hope we talked about in your 6th grade year? That happened here too. I think I had hoped so badly that private school was the answer that I missed all the signs that you weren’t happy. In my mind, if I just willed it away, ...

  Our district was able to do your evaluation over the summer. Eighth grade began with the option of in person, or virtual. We agreed that you would try it in person and see how it goes. That didn’t last very long, and I was ok with that. I had been working hard to restore your confidence and the thought of you being in school all day where I couldn’t protect you didn’t sound like the best idea. You were still very fragile and my new normal was sitting by your side for every one of your classes. Welp, the day is finally here – another meeting. This time it was virtual because of covid. I’ve always felt so outnumbered at these meetings. The school psychologist reviewed her evaluation with the team. She identified a reading deficit, and the team agreed to an IEP with ONE reading goal. ONE. We ended the meeting and called an advocate. I wasn’t crazy. This kid has dyslexia! I think……….. We signed a contract with an advocate well known in our state. We took her suggestion and scheduled...

  I think it’s safe to say that by your 7th grade year we all had PTSD and completely dreaded every new school day. But you had a “robust” 504 plan and you and your guidance counselor had a tight bond. I still believe to this day that she wanted so badly to help you, but she just didn’t know how. None of us did really…. It wasn’t going well. You came home every day and would lock yourself in your bedroom. You stopped enjoying the things you used to love. You HATED school. Each day was harder and harder to get you out the door. One of the hardest parts of my weekday was forcing you to go to a place that was stealing all of your joy. But what choice did I have? Parents are expected to send their kids to school. You came home one day and shared with me how one of your teachers was unkind in class. Listen, I know you were not the easiest kid and I’m sure your teachers were frustrated. But so was I. It was a full-time job advocating for you, and I was getting nowhere. You told me that ...

  Breathe in, breathe out….. It’s going to be ok. This new adventure has got to be a better experience than Elementary School. I was hopeful that switching classrooms every 43 minutes would be a good thing for you. But oof…. A bigger school means bigger kids. And bigger kids means more judgement. A much bigger challenge to fit into an environment that was not built for a neurodiverse kid. I think you took a piece of my heart with you to school that morning. All I ever wanted to do was protect you. And for you to see what an amazing kid you were. You were entering this new school broken from your experience in Elementary School, and I was just hoping that it wasn’t too late to repair all that trauma. It took a while before the “honeymoon” period wore off. You were always good at giving us false hope at the beginning of every school year. And then it began, phone calls, emails, lunch detentions. Things like blurting out in class, inappropriately playing with the fidgets your poor gui...

  Time for you to learn to read and write. A day chock full of science and social studies. I was anxious because at home, you clearly had some sort of internal motor that nobody could see with the naked eye – if I could have seen it, I FOR SURE would have hit the off switch. Perhaps if I found that off switch, we would not own so many wooden dowels and you would still be playing with your toys that were in the big black garbage bag. However, you successfully made it through preschool and kindergarten, so I was hopeful that the rest of your school years would be a breeze. In first grade I became increasingly worried about your motor without the off switch. I worried about the fact that your handwriting was atrocious, you were writing letters backwards, there was no spacing between your words, random spaces within a word, and it was like the lines on the paper were invisible to you. Your school held a meeting where I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew my concerns were valid. Th...