Why Special Education Students Should Get a Choice in Their Classes: A Parent’s Experience
The laminate conference table stuck to my elbow when I leaned forward last October, at Leo’s annual IEP meeting. The special ed coordinator brushed crumbs from a half-eaten granola bar off the paper and slid Leo’s proposed 10th grade schedule across the table. 1st period algebra support, 2nd grade-level English, 3rd period study skills, 4th period biology. No graphic design, the elective Leo had begged for since the course catalog came out three months earlier.
Leo is 15, diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia, and he’s had an IEP since third grade. For as long as I can remember, he’s left sketchbooks full of dinosaur stickers and character designs scattered all over our kitchen counter. He draws on my grocery list, he designs custom birthday cards for all his cousins, and he’d spent weeks watching Procreate tutorials on his phone after school, convinced graphic design would be the first high school class he actually looked forward to.
The coordinator leaned back in her chair and shook her head when I pointed out the missing elective. “His reading comprehension is still two grade levels behind,” she said. “Study skills is a better use of this slot. General ed electives move too fast for him, anyway. Electives are a nice extra, but we need to prioritize closing gaps first.”
I’d sat through enough of these meetings to know the script by that point. For years, I’d nodded along and let the team pick Leo’s schedule because I assumed they knew what was best for him. But that day, something felt off. I asked if we could bring Leo in from the hallway, where he’d been waiting while we talked. He shuffled in, hoodie string twisted around his finger, and pulled out his phone to show the coordinator his portfolio.
“I read the whole syllabus,” he said, tapping the screen to pull up a sticker design he’d made for the school’s cross country team. “Most of the work is digital, not reading textbooks. I can do study skills after school, my babysitter already helps me with homework three nights a week anyway. I just want one class that’s not all about catching up.”
It took 20 minutes of back and forth, but we finally landed on a compromise: Leo could take graphic design for the first semester, and he’d attend a 45-minute after-school study skills group twice a week instead of the daily in-school class. If he failed to keep up or it impacted his grades in core classes, he’d switch at semester.
I worried about it for the first month. I checked the parent portal every other day to see if he was turning in assignments, I asked him every night how class went. But what happened surprised me. He showed up to graphic design every day, on time, even on mornings he dragged his feet about every other class. He struggled with the written assignment instructions, just like the team said he would, but his general ed graphic design teacher pulled him aside after the first week and asked what he needed. Leo told her long paragraphs of text were hard to get through, so she started recording 30-second audio versions of all instructions for him. It took her two minutes a week.
By the end of the semester, Leo had a B- in graphic design. He’d been asked to design the cover for the school’s literary magazine. And when we did his mid-semester progress testing, his reading fluency had gone up 10%—more than it had the entire previous year, when he took daily study skills and no electives he’d picked out. He was reading design blogs and tutorial transcripts on his own time, after school, just because he wanted to. He didn’t even see it as work.
That experience changed how I think about class choice for special ed kids. We spend so much time focusing on closing gaps and meeting benchmarks that we treat their interests and preferences like an afterthought. We assume that because they need extra support in some areas, they can’t handle general ed classes, or that they’re not capable of deciding what’s good for them. But more often than not, they know exactly what they want, and what they can manage.
If you’re a parent going through this right now, there are small, concrete things you can do that don’t require a huge fight with the school. First, once your kid hits middle school, insist that they attend the part of the IEP meeting where you talk about schedules and electives. Don’t speak for them if they’re able to speak for themselves. Second, if the team pushes back on their request, propose a low-stakes trial. Most districts will agree to a 6-week or one-semester trial, where you can adjust the schedule if it doesn’t work out. That removes a lot of the pressure from everyone involved. If you’re a teacher who has a special ed student joining your general ed class, you don’t need to rewrite your whole curriculum. Just pull them aside for two minutes on the first day and ask, “What’s one small thing I can do to make this class easier for you?” Nine times out of ten, they’ll tell you exactly what you need to know, and it’s a tiny change that makes a huge difference.
This year, Leo wants to take a digital photography elective. The IEP team brought up extra math support again, since he’s still working on meeting grade-level benchmarks. We’re doing the same thing: trial semester, he’ll go to math support twice a week after school. I still have days where I worry we’re making the wrong choice, that we’re letting him fall further behind. But last week I found him on the couch editing photos of our dog, talking about how he wants to take headshots for the local high school soccer players this summer to earn money for a new lens. That kind of motivation, that excitement about showing up to school, is something no mandatory study skills class has ever given him. It’s not a perfect solution, and it won’t work for every kid. But giving them a seat at the table when it comes to picking their classes matters more than any benchmark we check off.
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