As a special education teacher, I’ve often found myself at the intersection of student need, administrative policy, and general education expectations. It’s a position that demands not only instructional expertise but also the courage to advocate. Over the years, I’ve learned that our voices, when grounded in data, empathy, and collaboration, are among the most powerful tools we possess to create meaningful change for students with disabilities.
Know Your Students, Know Your Power
Advocacy isn’t about confrontation. It’s about connection. For special educators, it starts with truly knowing our students—academically, socially, and emotionally. When we understand a student’s Individualized Education Plan (IEP) inside and out, we become the bridge that connects their needs to the broader school community.
I’ll never forget one freshman student who was struggling significantly in her math inclusion class. The teacher, while highly skilled, had a rapid-paced style that overwhelmed her. She needed more processing time and a quieter, more structured setting. I analyzed her IEP, observed the learning environment, and collaborated with our team. Together, we placed her in a small-group resource class. Within weeks, her confidence grew, her quiz scores rose, and her anxiety decreased. The environment wasn’t just better—it was transformative.
Research reinforces these experiences. Swain et al. (2022) emphasize that the present levels of academic achievement and functional performance (PLAAFP), along with the goal-setting sections of the IEP, are foundational to effective planning. When we ground advocacy in student data, we offer general education teachers and administrators a clear rationale for support strategies—one they can respect and implement with fidelity.
Advocate Boldly, Even When It’s Unpopular
Administrative support is critical—but they need our input. I once worked with a student on the autism spectrum who had exceptional math ability but significantly low SC Ready scores in reading and writing. He struggled with both interpersonal and written communication. Some teachers and administrators recommended placing him on a credential track. But I knew his potential. With the support of an itinerant autism specialist and targeted English accommodations, he could thrive. I presented his data, shared my insights, and advocated for the diploma path. Today, he is having success in Algebra 1 and English 1, and he is well on his way to earning a high school diploma. That outcome didn’t happen by chance. It happened because someone believed in what he could do—not just what he was struggling with.
In my doctoral research, I found that administrators who actively participate in IEP meetings and support department collaboration foster higher success rates for students with disabilities (Coviello & DeMatthews, 2021; Sundeen, 2022). When I lead IEP meetings with building leaders present, I’m always intentional about aligning student needs with legal mandates and best instructional practices. Advocacy isn’t about blame—it’s about alignment. It’s about building a unified team around the student.
Be Honest, Even When It’s Hard
Sometimes, advocacy also means making difficult decisions. I had a student with slightly above-average reading and writing skills who desperately wanted to take AP Language Arts. Her passion was real, and her drive was admirable. However, completing 30 essays in one school year would have stretched her beyond what she could realistically manage. I had to tell her the truth, even though it was upsetting. I recommended the College Prep English course instead. A year later, after finding success and building confidence in that class, she thanked me. She eventually enrolled in a dual-enrollment course that was a much better fit for her skills and aspirations. Advocacy means being honest—even when it’s hard.
Assert Your Instructional Leadership
Advocacy also means affirming our role as instructional leaders in every classroom we enter. Too often, special education teachers are seen as assistants—managing behavior, passing out materials, or supporting logistics—rather than as equal partners in teaching and learning. This perception not only minimizes our professional expertise but also shortchanges the very students we are there to support. Lubke et al. (2019) warn against this imbalance, emphasizing the importance of shared responsibility. When we step forward to co-plan, co-teach, and deliver scaffolded, differentiated instruction, we elevate the quality of learning for all students. We are not there to assist—we are there to lead, to model, and to ensure every learner has access to meaningful, rigorous instruction.
Follow Through and Stay Connected
Effective advocacy continues well beyond the IEP table. It shows up in progress monitoring, quick check-ins with colleagues, and emails to parents that say, “Here’s what’s working—here’s what we’re seeing.” These follow-ups build credibility. They show that advocacy is not a one-time effort—it’s a sustained commitment (Kurth et al., 2022).
The Call to Lead with Integrity
To my fellow special education teachers: you are more than a support person. You are a leader. You are a strategist. You are the voice in the room that sees the whole child—abilities, challenges, and potential. Advocacy is not optional—it is our calling.
So, the next time you hesitate to speak up in a meeting, remember: you are the expert on your students. Lead with confidence. Advocate with integrity. And never underestimate the impact of your voice.
