The Most Important Accommodation I Ever Asked For
For a long time, I thought accommodations were things you asked the school district to provide to your child.
Speech.
OT.
Social skills.
Behavior support.
ESY.
All important. All necessary. All hard-fought.
But the most important accommodation I ever asked for wasn't a service.
It was access to information I couldn't get any other way.
Parents and Teachers See Different Things — and That's Normal
Parents know their children deeply.
We know their history.
We know how long certain challenges have been present.
We know what works at home — and what doesn't.
Teachers, on the other hand, see something parents usually can't.
They see our children:
- in a structured classroom
- navigating expectations we're not present for
- interacting with peers
- responding to instruction in real time
That perspective is incredibly valuable.
And for most parents, it's largely invisible.
This isn't a conflict.
It's a gap.
Why I Asked for Weekly Updates
Like many parents, I relied on progress reports and IEP meetings to understand how my child was doing in school.
But I often felt like I was missing the most important piece:
what was actually happening day to day.
Weekly email updates weren't about evaluation or oversight.
They were about shared understanding.
They helped me see:
- what the teacher was really focusing on
- which skills were hardest that week
- what strategies seemed to help
- where extra support was quietly being used
That information didn't replace formal data.
It gave context to it.
What Weekly Updates Really Provide
On paper, "weekly updates" sound modest.
In practice, they're one of the most informative windows a parent can have into their child's education.
A single week can reveal:
- which goals are actively being worked on
- which supports are essential versus optional
- whether challenges are situational or persistent
- what the teacher actually thinks the child needs to work on next
One sentence written close to the classroom can tell you more than a carefully worded quarterly report — not because it's better, but because it's timely.
Here's the Question That Finally Clarified This for Me
At some point, I asked myself a very simple question:
If I'm expected to help my child at home — to reinforce skills — to support homework — to practice strategies — how is it reasonable to rely on information that arrives only once a quarter?
Quarterly progress reports are the equivalent of report cards.
They tell you how things went.
They don't tell you what needs support right now.
No one would suggest waiting three months to respond if a child were struggling in reading or math.
So why would that make sense for OT?
Or speech?
Or executive functioning goals?
Should I just wait to find out my child is failing before doing anything about it?
That didn't feel like collaboration.
It felt like delay.
Support Requires Information
This wasn't about impatience.
It was about alignment.
If home is expected to support school, then home needs to know:
- what skills are being worked on
- what's emerging as a challenge
- what's improving and should be reinforced
Without that, parents are guessing.
And guessing isn't support — it's noise.
Early Signals Matter
Weekly updates didn't tell me my child was "failing."
They did something far more useful.
They let me see:
- when frustration was increasing
- when a skill was becoming a bottleneck
- when a strategy was helping — or not
That meant small adjustments instead of big surprises.
It allowed problems to stay small.
A Collaboration, Not a Critique
This accommodation wasn't about distrust.
It didn't replace professional judgment.
It didn't challenge expertise.
It helped me understand it.
With better information, I could:
- ask clearer questions
- support the same priorities at home
- participate in meetings without confusion or emotion
- respond thoughtfully instead of reactively
It made me a better partner.
The Accommodation That Made Participation Possible
The accommodation was simple: weekly email updates from my child's teacher.
Parents are often told they are equal members of the IEP team.
But meaningful participation requires information.
This accommodation didn't give me control.
It gave me understanding.
And once I had that, everything else worked better.
This Is the First Post in a Short Series
This post is about naming the accommodation that made everything else make sense.
The next post is about what happened when I tried to hold years of this information in my head — and why even good information can become overwhelming.
The final post will share what helped me organize it all and prepare for meetings without burning out or losing confidence in myself.
This post reflects my personal experience as a parent and is shared in the spirit of collaboration and understanding.