Guest post by Farnoush Davoudi, mother of an Autistic girl.

Did what you read in the previous post feel familiar? Do you ever sense that your child’s school could provide more meaningful support — but simply isn’t willing to?

Here are some of the lessons I wish I had never had to learn.
Now that I have, I hope they serve a purpose — for our children, and for ourselves.

Make Sure You’re Facing Unwillingness

During my daughter’s early elementary years, I experienced firsthand what it was like working with an unwilling school team. We had only been in Canada for a little over two years, and I was still unfamiliar with the education system. I also lacked confidence in interpreting people’s behaviour within a new cultural context.

Reaching out for neutral perspectives — from an inclusive education advocate, a consultant, and experienced parents — helped me clarify my concerns and assess whether the school’s actions and goals genuinely reflected my child’s best interests.

As parents, we must stay alert so that our children’s critical learning opportunities are not lost to systems — or individuals — who are unwilling to make a meaningful effort.

At the same time, it is important not to mistake other forms of resistance for unwillingness. Misinterpreting these signs can weaken trust and make rebuilding collaboration even harder. When unsure, seeking neutral perspectives can bring clarity and confidence to move forward constructively.

Your Advocacy Compass

If you believe the school team is unwilling to provide the support your child needs, the next challenge is advocating effectively while staying grounded.

Once you’ve ruled out systemic or resource limitations, it’s time to step up advocacy and push for accountability. As you do, you may notice the school team becoming more defensive. Holding on to clarity, confidence, and composure may feel harder — which is exactly why you need an internal compass:

To keep your seat at the table and your voice strong, stay focused, informed, and grounded.

Stay centred on your child.
This isn’t about winning arguments — it’s about building a path that allows your child to learn, grow, and thrive. If something doesn’t serve that mission, it isn’t worth your time or energy.

Know your child well.
Understand what helps them learn, what overwhelms them, and what supports their growth. This helps you advocate for what truly matters.

Learn the education system — and your rights.
The more you know, the more empowered you are to create real change — and the less disorienting the process will feel.

Don’t do it alone.
Advocacy is exhausting. Connect with other parents, support groups, or a counsellor. Community helps you stay steady and reminds you that you are not alone.

Keep Everything in Writing

Once you’re grounded in your advocacy, the next step is ensuring that action follows intent. One of the most powerful tools for this is simple:

Put everything in writing.

Written records create clarity and accountability for everyone involved.

Save all emails, meeting notes, progress reports, and letters. If an accommodation or strategy is agreed upon, ask that it be written into the IEP or captured in meeting notes. Without written documentation, details can easily be forgotten, dismissed, or misunderstood.

After informal conversations — such as hallway chats or phone calls — send a short follow-up email:

“Thank you for discussing [topic] today. Here is a summary of what we agreed upon so we’re on the same page: [brief summary].”

Good records protect your child, maintain transparency, and ensure follow-through.

Be Clear About Priorities

Once documentation is in place, the next challenge is keeping the focus on what truly matters.

A fellow parent shared that his son’s school limited his attendance to only three hours per day due to “toileting issues.” His child avoided public washrooms and sometimes squatted instead of sitting.

When the family asked the school to address these challenges within his educational programming — rather than restricting his attendance — the team reluctantly inserted an IEP goal:

“Sit properly on the toilet seat.”

But posture wasn’t the real priority.
The real priority was helping the student feel comfortable and able to use public washrooms.

We must ensure that superficial responses don’t replace meaningful solutions. A way to redirect such conversations might be:

“I’d like to explore strategies to help my child feel comfortable using public washrooms.”

Check In on Progress

Once priorities are clear, you must ensure the plan is actually working.
Regular check-ins help keep agreed-upon goals and strategies on track and responsive.

Pay attention to your child’s everyday experiences — not just academic performance, but also comfort, confidence, and independence. These often tell you more about whether support is effective than formal reports.

If you notice strategies aren’t being implemented or aren’t helping, raise the concern and discuss adjustments early.

Know When to Escalate

If repeated attempts to resolve issues at the school level fail, it may be time to escalate — calmly and systematically — through the appropriate channels.

Start with the classroom teacher, then the school principal, followed by the district’s inclusive education coordinator, and, if necessary, the assistant superintendent or superintendent.
These individuals have both the responsibility and the authority to make meaningful decisions.

Don’t let fear of retaliation hold you back.
If the school is genuinely committed to supporting your child, escalation won’t change that. If they are not, escalating may be necessary to open new pathways for support.

Reserve outside channels — such as the media, legal advice, or the Human Rights Tribunal — for last. These routes are time-consuming and emotionally draining. It is often more effective to first work within the education system.

Throughout any advocacy effort, allies make a tremendous difference. If you consider moving beyond the school system, trusted support becomes even more critical. Local or provincial advocacy organizations can help you understand your rights, determine whether escalation is needed, prepare documentation, and guide you step-by-step.

Even with all these strategies, working with people who do not share your perspective is never easy — especially when it determines whether your child receives essential support.

If you’re navigating challenging conversations with your child’s school, remember:
Advocacy requires wisdom, not just passion.

Be assertive without being combative.
Hopeful without being naïve.
May you remain steady, clear-headed, compassionate, and unwavering in advocating for your child’s right to meaningful education.

P.S. Curious about the good days — how we went from nearly giving up to celebrating real teamwork? Wondering how I eventually found an amazing school team for my daughter — the famous “opportunistic onboarding”?
Don’t miss my next post!

Guest post by Farnoush Davoudi, mother of an Autistic girl.

Collaboration between families and schools is often described as a partnership — but what happens when that partnership feels one-sided?

Over the past seven years, I’ve had the privilege of working closely with an exceptionally supportive school team — people whose care and dedication have truly transformed my daughter’s life and mine.

But I still remember the early years, when school meetings felt like battles rather than conversations. Instead of sitting together as partners supporting my daughter, I often felt cornered — constantly defending her needs. No matter how committed I was to staying open and collaborative, every response from the school seemed like another wall closing in.

In this post, I want to share what I learned from those difficult days — the moments that tested my patience, confidence, and faith. The days when collaboration felt impossible, progress felt stagnant, and I found myself wondering whether my child’s needs were “too much” for the system to meet, or whether I was even making the right decisions for her.

I also want to offer a promise: in Part II, I’ll share the good days — the breakthroughs, the genuine connection, and the slow but meaningful progress — along with what those experiences taught me about persistence, hope, and true partnership. For now, I hope these reflections on the challenging times help other parents navigate their own journeys with greater clarity and confidence.

Understanding the Source of Resistance

My contrasting experiences taught me that successful collaboration depends on one essential foundation: everyone in the room must be genuinely committed to centring the child’s needs and believing that change is possible.

Resistance from schools can look similar from the outside — silence, delays, or vague promises. But what lies beneath those responses can differ dramatically.

Sometimes, systemic barriers are the issue: rules, administrative processes, insufficient staffing, limited time, or lack of training that constrain what educators can do. These barriers are deeply frustrating — but often solvable through advocacy, collaboration, and creativity.

Other times, the barrier is not structural, but mindset-based.

There are situations where the school could act, but chooses not to. This is unwillingness — when comfort, convenience, or control outweigh the child’s needs. In these cases, little moves forward because the focus shifts away from the child’s success.

There is also hopelessness — when staff genuinely care but feel defeated by past failures. They no longer believe meaningful change is possible. This shows up as resignation rather than resistance, even when intentions are good.

Recognizing which kind of barrier you are facing is crucial because it determines the path forward.

Systemic or resource-based barriers require advocacy, persistence, and creativity.

2. Hopelessness needs reassurance and evidence that progress is achievable.

3. Unwillingness requires accountability, boundaries, and sometimes escalation.

Unwillingness

When collaboration breaks down because one party can help but chooses not to, no amount of training, resources, or planning can fill that gap.

While families naturally focus on support and meaningful progress, an unwilling school team often prioritizes adult-centred objectives — comfort, convenience, or control — over the child’s needs.

In these situations, parents frequently encounter avoidance or defensiveness. Responsibility is redirected, concerns are minimized, or inaction is justified. There is little genuine effort to move forward, even when solutions are available.

There is no perfect way to identify unwillingness in the moment. But the parents below — whose names have been changed — shared the patterns they only recognized clearly in hindsight.

Adult Priorities Over Child Needs

“The conversations were never really about my child — they were about what worked for adults. I was made to feel guilty with comments like: ‘We need to consider teacher workload,’ ‘It’s not fair to expect staff to handle this,’ or ‘We have to think about the other students.’
Looking back, I realize these were valid concerns — but they were repeatedly used to justify denying my child the support he needed.”
— Sarah, mother of a 9-year-old boy

Refusing to Learn Effective Strategies

“For months, they said my child’s behaviour was unmanageable, yet refused to meet with our private team to learn what worked at home.
When they finally agreed, my BCBA’s recommendations were ignored and never implemented. I still wonder why they didn’t want to try strategies that were clearly helping — if they truly wanted things to improve.”
— Noah, father of a grade-four student

Moving the Goalposts

“A week before Christmas break, I was told my child could not return to school without seeing a psychiatrist. At the time, the waitlist was nearly 52 weeks.
When I secured an appointment in early January, the school asked for a doctor’s note. After I provided it, they said they also needed full medical records — an unreasonable request.
This continued to happen — new requirements, new delays. It felt deliberate, as though they were trying to wear me down into giving up.”
— Laura, mother of an 11-year-old girl

Ignoring Agreements

“We had just reached an agreement on a critical issue when I observed staff not following through. After I emailed to report this, the principal called demanding I apologize for ‘monitoring’ the staff.
I was used to my concerns being dismissed, but this time, I was asking them to uphold what we had all agreed upon.
Later, I learned other families had similar experiences — agreements were honoured only when they aligned with what the school wanted.”
— Priya, mother of a 10-year-old girl

Excluding Parents from Decision-Making

“This year, everything comes by email — decisions already made. If we disagree, we must book a meeting, but it takes forever to get a date.
It feels like they’re keeping us as far from the decision-making as possible — even though it’s about our kids.”
— Darel, father of two high-school students on the spectrum

Passing Responsibility Around

“When my son came home with bruises, no one could tell me what happened.
His communication iPad was sent out for updates, and for a week, no one could confirm when he would get his voice back. Everyone kept saying, ‘Let me check with someone else.’
Exhausted, I contacted the district IT team directly, and they told me they’d just received the device and it would be ready the next day.
When I told the school, they were upset and said I had overstepped. I couldn’t believe that advocating for my child’s basic needs was considered inappropriate.”
— Zara, mother of a child using AAC

To be continued….

Tag Archives: Autism Advocacy

Collaboration in Practice: What the Difficult Days Revealed — Part II