Parents of neurodivergent children often hear the same explanations from schools: “Math is the trigger.” “It was a non-preferred activity.” “The student was being oppositional.” “That support is already written in the IEP.”
But those explanations may describe what happened without explaining why it happened.
In this episode of StressFree IEP, special education attorney and advocate Frances Shefter speaks with educational therapist, special educator, and special education advocate Sarah Juliana about what can happen when schools focus too heavily on behavior, disability labels, and standardized approaches instead of looking at the individual child.
Their conversation raises an important question for parents: Are we responding to what a child is doing—or are we actually understanding what the child needs?
Behavior Is Communication, Not the Whole Story
A child refuses an assignment. A student has a meltdown when math begins. Another child walks into class already agitated.
It can be tempting to identify the activity immediately before the behavior as the “trigger.” But that can miss everything that came before it.
Frances explains that during her teaching years, she often saw students act out for two very different reasons: they were either so lost that they were trying to hide their embarrassment, or they were so bored that the work had become meaningless to them.
In both situations, the visible behavior was only the end of the story.
Sarah describes behavior in a similar way: sensory information comes into the brain, the brain processes it, and behavior is the output. Looking only at that output gives educators an incomplete picture.
For parents, that distinction matters enormously.
If a school responds only to the behavior, the intervention may never address the actual problem.
The “Trigger” May Have Started Much Earlier
Frances shares a powerful example involving her own daughter.
Her daughter was struggling during math, so the initial conclusion was simple: math must be the trigger.
Except she was good at math.
Looking more closely revealed something completely different. Math occurred immediately after lunch and recess—two activities that were enjoyable but also highly stimulating. Her daughter was entering math already overloaded.
The solution was not to change math.
Instead, she began leaving recess a few minutes early and having quiet time to regulate before class.
The problem improved.
That example illustrates why parents may need to ask deeper questions when schools discuss behaviors:
- What happened immediately before the behavior?
- What happened earlier that day?
- Was the child already overstimulated?
- Was there a difficult transition?
- Was the work confusing, frustrating, repetitive, or inaccessible?
- Was there a conflict during lunch, recess, transportation, or another class?
- Is the child being expected to demonstrate a skill in a way that does not match how they process information?
A behavior plan built around the wrong cause can easily become a plan for managing the symptom instead of supporting the child.
An IEP Cannot Become a Document Everyone Forgets
Another important point from the conversation is uncomfortable but practical: simply writing a support into an IEP does not guarantee that the support will meaningfully appear in the classroom.
Frances speaks from experience as both an attorney and a former classroom teacher.
Teachers can be responsible for many students, multiple IEPs, long documents, curriculum requirements, data collection, and countless daily decisions. A critical piece of information buried in a lengthy IEP can easily become disconnected from what happens moment to moment in class.
That does not make the IEP unimportant. It makes clear, usable implementation even more important.
Parents should consider whether an accommodation makes sense not only on paper, but in practice.
Can the teacher realistically recognize when it is needed? Does the team understand what the accommodation looks like? Is there a proactive plan, or will everyone wait until the student is already dysregulated?
The goal should not simply be, “We got it into the IEP.”
The better question is, “How will this actually help my child on Tuesday morning when the problem happens?”
Disability Labels Can Open Doors—but They Do Not Define the Child
Frances and Sarah also explore the complicated role of disability categories.
A diagnosis or educational classification can be important because special education systems and laws rely on categories to determine eligibility and services.
But the label alone cannot tell a team how a particular child learns.
Two autistic students may have dramatically different sensory needs, communication profiles, academic strengths, executive-functioning challenges, and emotional responses.
Likewise, a student may have overlapping characteristics involving autism, ADHD, anxiety, dyslexia, trauma, or other differences.
Frances highlights another distinction that often confuses families: a medical diagnosis and an educational disability classification are not necessarily the same thing.
A child can have a medical autism diagnosis without autism being the educational disability affecting school performance in the way required for special education eligibility. Conversely, a school may identify characteristics consistent with autism for educational purposes without making a medical diagnosis.
For parents, the practical takeaway is to keep bringing the conversation back to the child’s actual needs.
What is interfering with learning?
What strengths can the school build upon?
What supports does this particular student require?
Those questions matter more than assuming every student within a category needs the same intervention.
Are We Teaching the Skill—or Teaching Compliance?
One of the strongest questions Sarah raises is deceptively simple:
Is the educator trying to teach the subject—or teach compliance?
Consider a mathematically gifted student who solves a problem accurately in their head but struggles to demonstrate the exact procedure the curriculum requires.
If the student understands the mathematics but receives a poor grade because they cannot show the work in the expected format, what exactly is being measured?
Frances shares similar experiences, including students being required to learn several different methods for solving the same type of problem even after finding one method that works well for them.
Teaching multiple strategies can be valuable because students learn differently.
But exposing students to different options is not the same as forcing every learner to use every option in exactly the same way.
For neurodivergent students especially, flexibility in how knowledge is taught and demonstrated may make the difference between a student who believes, “I can’t do this,” and one who discovers, “I can do this—I just do it differently.”
Parents Can Keep Bringing the Team Back to the Whole Child
Special education teams need data. Schools need procedures. Eligibility systems require classifications. Teachers need curricula.
But none of those tools should replace curiosity about the individual student.
When something is not working, parents can keep asking:
What is actually happening here?
A behavior may be communicating overload.
A refusal may be communicating confusion.
Poor performance may reflect the method of instruction rather than the student’s ability.
A “trigger” may have occurred long before the behavior.
And a support written somewhere in an IEP may need to be translated into a much clearer classroom plan before it can help.
The strongest special education planning starts when the team stops asking only how to stop a behavior and starts asking what the child is experiencing, what the child is communicating, and what needs to change so the child can succeed.
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