Most parents and professionals would agree that good parent teacher communication is crucial to a dynamic home-school partnership, especially with regard to educating students with special needs. Most of us also agree that when adults strive for good communication, children win.
So why is it that often our words and actions don't match?
While parenting a teenager and a child with cerebral palsy, I've reached an important conclusion about parent teacher communication. In nearly every situation that warrants positive resolution, effective communication begins with me -- a special parent.
Special Education Issues: What Causes Tension?
Education professionals say that emotionally-charged school meetings result from the demands of unreasonable and unrealistic parents. Parents counter this argument. They say that professional arrogance and an unwillingness to recognize the parent's valuable input is at the root of parent teacher communication breakdowns.
Such accusations cause poor working relationships between parents and professionals. When we refuse to accept personal responsibility for our part in the communication process, we make it hard to achieve positive goals for our students. We waste valuable energy defending professional egos, academic degrees, parental roles and legal rights.
When adults become enemies, where do we leave the children in whose names we argue?
Talk Less, Listen More
While parenting my ten-year-old son, whose vocabulary includes approximately fifteen words, I've thought about this issue. As Eric struggles to speak simple words with spunk and determination, he reminds me of their value. Some of us talk too much, yet say very little. Some of us use emotionally charged words to judge the actions of others, when perhaps we should be using them to judge our own. Such poor communication efforts reveal a disturbing misuse of the remarkable gift of language.
In recent years, I've worked with professionals who are strongly committed to working as partners in my child's education. Yet, the greatest lessons I've learned about effective communication come from my son, a fourth grader who's taught me to talk less and listen more. Eric reminds me to use words wisely, to make sure I've heard what's said before I react. He's taught me to slow down in my efforts to communicate with him when I'm rushed for time, or when I try to prove what he knows in front of someone who's already decided what he doesn't.
Eric has taught me to treat people with respect, instead of approaching individuals armed to do battle, even when I have just cause. After watching my son's pure efforts at simple communication, I'm embarrassed to admit that those of us who can speak clearly and effortlessly fail miserably in our efforts to communicate well.
Good Body Language Says the Most
My son reminds me every day that much of our communication is nonverbal, including body posture, facial expressions, eye gaze and handshakes. I remind myself not to rudely dismiss the presence of others through negative non-verbal cues. I attend my son's Individualized Educational Plan (IEP) and other team meetings armed with a sincere smile, prepared to share updated and valuable information. I bring a recent photo of Eric to remind all those present that this is not a faceless student about whom we exchange our powerful words.
Simple lessons? Perhaps. But they fuel positive communication.
Today, as a writer and public speaker, I advocate on behalf of children with disabilities and their families. But I offer no excuses for parents who rudely make unyielding demands from professionals while refusing to acknowledge their own critical role in their children's challenged lives. Nor do I excuse the arrogance of professionals entrusted to help build that child's future. Arrogance, rudeness and intolerance result in nothing of lasting value and have no place in an educational setting.
In her remarkable book entitled "Reason for Hope," Dr. Jane Goodall writes: "Words can enhance experience, but they can also take so much away. Once we have labeled the things around us we do not bother to look at them so carefully."
When it comes to effective communication, my ten-year-old son, with his limited speech and mobility, wise eyes, enchanting smile, bright mind, and a refreshing lack of arrogance, has been my greatest life teacher. He has challenged me to improve my own communication skills by reminding me that the best way to impact positive change in others is to model it yourself.
Judy Winter is an award-winning journalist on disability issues and the recipient of the 2002 Exceptional Parent Award from the Michigan Federated Chapters of the Council for Exceptional Children.
This article first appeared in the March 2000 issue of C.E.N. Newsline. It is reprinted by permission.