Field Notes from a Neurodivergent Home 2/26/26
Parent-Teacher Conference Edition
This is the start of a new paid series where I share live lab notes from our neurodivergent household (2 parents, 6 boy children, 1 daughter-in-law, 1 grand-child, 2 dogs, 2 cats). What’s holding. What’s failing. What we’re testing next.
There is nothing quite like the adrenaline that comes from walking into seven back-to-back conferences knowing you may need to politely re-explain how your child’s brain works to multiple professionals in one afternoon.
I always dread it.
I over-prepare.
I rehearse phrases in the car.
I brace for the “if only he would…” speech.
And then, almost every time, I leave feeling supported and strangely hopeful. Also completely drained. Like I just ran a small advocacy marathon in business-casual shoes.
This week one conference in particular did the thing they so often do in twice-exceptional territory.
Every teacher started the same way.
Great kid.
Creative.
So smart.
Engaged.
Really cares about the material.
By the third meeting, I started finishing the sentence for them.
“…if only he would do his work.”
When I got to math, I did my usual predictive text.
“He’s not doing his work.”
The teacher blinked.
“He’s not?”
He pulled up the gradebook. Long pause.
Zeros. Zeros. Zeros.
Then he pulled up the test scores. Highest in the class.
You could see the moment the spreadsheet stopped making sense.
