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….