IEP Meetings: We Can't Listen If We Aren't Silent First

The truth is, we can't listen if we aren't silent. #NoLimits

The Truth Is, We Can’t Listen at an IEP Meeting If We Aren’t Silent First

Did you know that if you rearrange the letters in LISTEN, you get SILENT?

Maybe it’s simply a coincidence.

But when I think about IEP meetings, I think those six letters have something important to teach us.

IEP meetings are supposed to be collaborative. They bring together people with different roles, different expertise, different experiences, and sometimes very different perspectives—all for one student.

But collaboration cannot happen without listening.

And the truth is, we can’t really listen if we aren’t willing to be silent first.

Are We Listening—or Waiting to Respond?

Think about what happens during some IEP meetings.

A parent begins sharing a concern, and before they finish, someone on the team is already thinking:

We don't see that at school.

That's not what the data shows.

We can't do that.

That's not how we do things here.

An educator shares a concern, and someone else is already preparing a defense.

A related service provider offers another perspective, and instead of getting curious, someone begins explaining why it won't work.

And sometimes, a student tells us exactly what they need—and the adults are so busy discussing the student that nobody stops long enough to actually hear them.

Technically, everyone may have had an opportunity to speak.

But did everyone have an opportunity to be heard?

Those aren't the same thing.

Silence Is More Than Keeping Our Mouths Closed

Being silent during an IEP meeting doesn't mean simply waiting until someone stops talking so we can take our turn.

Real silence is internal, too.

It means quieting the voice in our head that is preparing a response.

The one defending what we've already done.

The one thinking about schedules, staffing, resources, procedures, or what we've always done before.

The one trying to decide whether the person speaking is right or wrong before they've even finished.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do at an IEP table is simply listen and ask:

What is this person trying to help me understand about this student?

Not:

How do I respond?

Not:

How do I explain why we can't?

Not:

How do I prove my point?

Just:

What can I learn here?

From “We Can’t” to “How Can We?”

If you've spent much time around IEP meetings, you've probably heard some version of “we can't.”

*We can't provide that.*

*We can't change the schedule.*

*We can't offer that service.*

*We can't do something different for one student.*

*We can't because we don't have the staff.*

*We can't because that's not how our program works.*

Sometimes there are very real limitations that teams have to navigate.

But I also believe “can't” can become a stopping point when it should be the beginning of a conversation.

What if, instead of immediately saying, “We can't,” we became silent long enough to understand why someone is asking?

What need are they trying to address?

What barrier is the student experiencing?

What outcome are they hoping for?

Maybe the exact solution being suggested isn't the answer.

That's okay.

Listening doesn't require automatic agreement.

But once we understand the need underneath the request, we can begin asking a much more productive question:

“How can we?”

How can we address this need?

How can we remove this barrier?

How can we help this student access their education?

How can we use the resources we have differently?

How can we think beyond what we've always done?

That is a very different conversation.

And it begins with listening.

Different Perspectives Belong at the IEP Table

Every person at an IEP meeting comes to the table with a different lens.

The general education teacher sees the student in one environment.

The special education teacher sees another.

Related service providers bring their areas of expertise.

Administrators understand systems and resources.

Parents and caregivers know a lifetime of things about their child that no assessment, evaluation, or progress report could ever capture.

And the student—when included in meaningful ways—brings the perspective that should ground all of it:

What is it actually like to be me?

Those perspectives won't always match.

They aren't supposed to.

Different doesn't mean wrong.

Different doesn't mean less informed.

Different doesn't mean someone doesn't care about the student.

Different simply means we are seeing the same student from different places.

And isn't that exactly why we have a team?

If one person already had every answer, we wouldn't need an IEP team.

The value of the team is in bringing those perspectives together.

But that only works when we're willing to listen to them.

Listening Does Not Mean Agreeing

This is important.

Listening to a parent doesn't mean the team must agree to every request.

Listening to a teacher doesn't mean their proposed solution automatically becomes part of the IEP.

Listening to an administrator doesn't mean resources become the only consideration.

Listening to a student doesn't mean every preference can be implemented exactly as requested.

Listening means we genuinely consider what someone is telling us before deciding what comes next.

We ask questions.

We seek clarification.

We look at data.

We consider multiple perspectives.

We discuss possibilities.

We problem-solve.

We stay curious.

That is what collaboration looks like.

And disagreement handled through genuine listening feels very different from disagreement when someone has already decided the answer before the conversation begins.

Parents Shouldn't Have to Fight to Be Heard

Parents often walk into IEP meetings carrying something no other team member carries.

This is their child.

For professionals, an IEP meeting may be one meeting in a very full week.

For a parent, the decisions made in that room may affect their child's confidence, independence, relationships, opportunities, and future.

That doesn't mean parents are always right.

It means their perspective deserves genuine consideration.

When a parent says, “Something isn't working,” our first instinct shouldn't be to explain why everything we're doing is appropriate.

Get curious.

When they say, “This isn't the child I see at home,” don't immediately dismiss the difference.

Get curious.

When they ask for something we weren't expecting, don't begin with why it can't happen.

Get curious.

There may be information we don't have yet.

There may be a problem we haven't recognized.

There may be another solution none of us has considered.

We won't know if we're too busy preparing our response to listen.

And We Need to Listen to Students

There is another voice we cannot forget.

The student's.

We can spend an incredible amount of time talking *about* students in IEP meetings.

Their strengths.

Their needs.

Their behaviors.

Their goals.

Their accommodations.

Their future.

But how often are we truly talking with them?

Students may not always communicate their needs in the language we expect.

They may communicate through words, behavior, choices, avoidance, questions, body language, assistive communication, or a hundred other ways.

Our responsibility is not to wait until they communicate in the way that is easiest for us.

Our responsibility is to learn how to listen.

Because students often tell us much more than we realize.

What If We Changed the Question?

Imagine if every person entering an IEP meeting came in asking:

“What can I learn today that will help us better support this student?”

Think about how that could change the room.

Instead of defending positions, we'd explore needs.

Instead of protecting ideas, we'd examine them.

Instead of trying to win, we'd problem-solve.

Instead of “We can't,” we'd ask “How can we?”**

We might still disagree.

We might still have difficult conversations.

We might not leave with every person getting exactly what they initially wanted.

But perhaps we'd leave knowing that everyone was heard, every perspective was considered, and every decision was centered on the student.

That's collaboration.

Be Silent. Then Listen.

IEP meetings don't need to be battles between parents and schools.

They shouldn't be about sides.

They shouldn't be about winning.

They should be about a group of people bringing their knowledge, experience, questions, data, hopes, and perspectives together to answer one incredibly important question:

What does this student need to be successful?

We can't answer that question well if we're only listening to ourselves.

So at your next IEP meeting, when someone offers a perspective that challenges yours, resist the urge to immediately respond.

Be silent.

Quiet the answer forming in your head.

Get curious.

Listen.

You may not change your mind.

But you might broaden it.

You might hear a need that wasn't obvious before.

You might discover another possibility.

You might even find that the thing everyone thought “can't” be done simply needed a room full of people willing to ask:

“How can we?”

And sometimes, that is exactly where a better IEP begins.