A family story that starts with milestones—and a gut feeling
Frances Shefter opens this episode of Stress-free IEP by returning to the heart of the show: helping families build a strong village so they can raise neurodivergent children with confidence and support. Today’s guests, Roger Haney and his wife Aaron, share their family’s journey raising two children—Caitlyn, who is neurotypical, and Jake, who is autistic and was identified early in life.
Their story doesn’t begin with a dramatic moment or a clear diagnosis. It begins with subtle comparisons. Caitlyn is only 13 months older than Jake, so her developmental milestones were fresh in their minds. Jake was consistently just a little behind—rolling over later, walking later—and, like many parents, they were reassured with familiar explanations: he’s a boy, he’s the second child, kids develop at different speeds.
Over time, the differences became harder to dismiss. Jake made less eye contact, pointed less, and didn’t engage in shared attention the way his sister had. Speech wasn’t developing. Roger and Aaron describe how they repeatedly talked each other out of their concerns—one would worry, the other would reassure. Then they’d switch roles. The turning point came when Aaron went out of town for a weekend and Roger, on his own, finally saw what they had both been circling around.
Acting early and moving fast
Once they trusted their instincts, things moved quickly. Their pediatrician relied on practical observation rather than abstract checklists. At around 20 months old, Jake was mobile and curious. When the pediatrician placed Cheerios on a shelf out of reach, Jake didn’t look to his parents or point for help. He simply tried to get them himself.
That observation signaled a communication delay.
Within weeks, Jake was connected to early intervention services. Before the age of two, he was receiving speech therapy in their home. Roger and Aaron emphasize that early intervention didn’t change who Jake was—but it gave him critical access to support at a time when his brain was most ready to build skills.
They also credit educators who went far beyond what was required. Teachers who believed in Jake didn’t just support him in the classroom—they pulled him into learning opportunities wherever they could, even outside of school hours.
When systems fail families
A major theme throughout the conversation is how inconsistent special education systems can be from state to state. Frances Shefter points out that while IEPs are federally mandated, implementation varies widely—not just between states, but even between counties.
Roger and Aaron experienced this firsthand while living in Florida.
Jake could not receive an official autism diagnosis until kindergarten, when specific labels were required for services. Even then, accessing that diagnosis meant seeing multiple specialists, including a neurologist. Support wasn’t just difficult to obtain—it was expensive.
They were spending nearly $25,000 per year out of pocket on therapies insurance wouldn’t cover, maxing out credit cards just to help Jake keep up. Meanwhile, school-based services were inconsistent. Speech therapy that was supposed to be an hour per week often turned into a single 20-minute session—or none at all—because the infrastructure simply wasn’t there.
Eventually, trusted teachers were honest with them: if they wanted the best chance for Jake, they needed to leave Florida.
Moving to Pennsylvania: education, family, and stability
The family relocated to the Pittsburgh area, where Roger has deep family roots. Aaron’s parents followed them north, which meant the children didn’t just gain access to a stronger school system—they gained daily family support.
That consistency mattered. Jake now had cousins his age, peer models outside of his sister, and more natural opportunities for social interaction. He began to thrive in Pennsylvania’s educational environment.
But even with improved schooling, Roger and Aaron couldn’t escape the biggest long-term question many families face:
What happens after the school system ends?
Turning fear into action: the birth of Spectrum Fudge
Around the time of COVID, Roger found himself thinking constantly about Jake’s future. He wasn’t imagining corporate careers. He was thinking practically: an ice cream shop, a coffee shop, a car wash—someplace structured, predictable, and safe where Jake and others like him could work.
Through networking in Pittsburgh’s special needs community, they connected with a couple looking to retire and sell a small fudge business. What stood out wasn’t a secret recipe or a lifelong dream—it was the nature of the work itself. The tasks were structured, repetitive, and process-driven.
Roger left his corporate career. Together, they invested their retirement savings and took a leap that became Spectrum Fudge—a business intentionally built to employ individuals with varying abilities.
As the business evolved, so did its mission. While the name initially reflected the autism spectrum, Roger realized that focusing only on autism unintentionally excluded many individuals who also needed opportunity. Spectrum Fudge expanded its vision to represent the spectrum of abilities.
Today, Spectrum Fudge partners with schools for the deaf, schools for the blind, local high schools, the Children’s Institute of Pittsburgh, and other organizations—providing real-world work exposure to students and young adults who are too often left out of employment opportunities.
What IEP transition planning should really look like
Aaron brings the conversation back to Frances Shefter’s work in special education law. One of the clearest messages of the episode is that work skills are not optional add-ons. They belong in the IEP—especially during the transition years.
For Jake, that has meant IEP goals focused on:
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reading and following recipes
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understanding written instructions
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moving materials appropriately in a workplace
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responding to timers and schedules
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practicing impulse control, including not eating the product during a shift
Jake’s school district operates a coffee shop staffed by special education students, giving him structured practice during the school day. Aaron explains that these experiences don’t just build confidence—they directly support graduation planning and future waiver applications by documenting functional progress.
Frances Shefter emphasizes a common problem she sees again and again: transition sections of IEPs are often vague and generic. Phrases like “explore college” or “consider vocational programs” are not individualized transition planning. Real transition planning asks:
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Who is this child?
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What do we want adult life to look like?
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What skills are needed to get there?
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How do we start building those skills now?
Legally, this process should begin around age 14, not at the end of high school.
Inside Spectrum Fudge: accommodations built in
At Spectrum Fudge, accommodations aren’t an afterthought—they are part of the design.
Different employees take on different roles based on strengths:
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labeling instead of fine-motor packaging
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sorting instead of detailed assembly
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customer-facing sales for those with strong communication skills
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production roles for non-verbal workers
The environment adapts too:
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neon signage with bold lettering for visual impairments
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magnifying overlays for point-of-sale systems
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tools that can be added or removed depending on who is working
Frances Shefter highlights the distinction: many companies only provide accommodations when legally required. Spectrum Fudge is built on the expectation that people are different—and that difference is normal.
Stamina, soft skills, and real preparation
Roger explains that one of the biggest barriers to employment isn’t ability—it’s stamina. Many individuals can only work for short periods at first. Ten minutes might be all they can manage initially. That’s not failure. That’s a starting point.
Over time, ten minutes becomes fifteen, then twenty, then an hour. Alongside stamina, Spectrum Fudge intentionally teaches soft skills:
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punctuality
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dependability
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teamwork
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accountability
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working longer shifts appropriately
Roger describes the business as a “farm system.” The goal isn’t to keep people forever—it’s to prepare them to move on successfully. One participant is now graduating from electrical school. Another trained toward warehouse work with the goal of driving a forklift.
This is transition planning in real life.
The hardest truth: parents sometimes hold kids back
Roger shares an honest insight: often the biggest barrier isn’t the individual—it’s the parents. Not because parents don’t care, but because protecting children can unintentionally limit them.
Frances Shefter connects this to all parenting. Growth requires risk, discomfort, and letting children try—even when they might fail. Aaron adds that parents are meant to be the first teachers, not the only teachers. That’s why community matters.
They even apply this mindset to Jake. When he begins working at the factory in a formal role, Roger doesn’t want to supervise him directly. They know Jake will respond differently to non-parent authority—and that difference is part of preparing him for adulthood.
Advice for families looking ahead
When Frances Shefter asks what advice they would give to overwhelmed parents, Roger and Aaron offer clear guidance:
Don’t let the diagnosis freeze you
A diagnosis explains—it does not define your child or your future.
Start early
Paperwork is slow. Waivers and vocational services take time. Waiting until graduation is too late.
Push the school
Schools may be willing, but often no one has asked. Advocate early and often.
Keep life moving while you wait
Community involvement, libraries, volunteering, and structure matter—even when systems lag behind.
The takeaway
This episode is about what becomes possible when transition planning is treated as real life preparation instead of paperwork. Early intervention, strong IEPs, intentional transition goals, and community-driven opportunity can reshape what adulthood looks like for neurodivergent individuals.
