An IEP—Individual Education Plan—is supposed to be the roadmap for any child with a learning disability in the American public school system. It’s the legally binding document that outlines what accommodations, services, and supports a child needs to access their education. For some kids, it works. For children with dyslexia, ADHD, speech delays—the IEP can actually do what it’s designed to do.
But for children with autism? It’s a square peg being hammered into a round hole.
And I’m not the only parent saying this. Talk to enough autism families and you’ll hear the same frustration over and over: the standard IEP process was not originally built for the way autism shows up in a child’s life. Autism isn’t just about academics. It’s sensory processing. It’s social communication. It’s executive function. It’s emotional regulation. It’s the way a fluorescent light can derail an entire morning, or the way a last-minute schedule change can trigger a meltdown that looks like defiance but is actually nervous system overload. However, there have been some improvements over time in the way IEPs serve students with autism.
To find out more click on the question link:
Why do standard IEPs often fail to capture the real needs of autistic children?
According to Anne Oliss, co-founder of Minds Untapped and an expert in assisted learning and long time advocate for special needs children in schools, “but given SMART goals and objectives aligned to special services and multifactored evaluations on schedule, I would say that the IEP process and framework do work for autism and kids with autism.”
The teachers administering these IEPs? They’re well-intentioned. The school psychologists, the special education coordinators, the aides in the classroom—most of them genuinely care. But they’re working within a framework that treats autism like it’s just another learning difference that can be addressed with extra time on tests and a quiet room for exams.
Anne Oliss continues: “I think Individual Family Service Plans (IFSPs) and IEPs for preschoolers work less well because SMART goals and objectives have a place in academics after play is supplanted with more didactic instruction or group activities toward learning goals. However, in a service setting prior to kindergarten, should we really be pigeon-holing tiny little explorers and learners into a handful of measured and sometime sterile activities? I think that is a real injustice and begins the process of exhausting the parents and the kids.”
So, it’s not enough. It never was.
What we need—what I believe many of us who’ve fought through this process have come to realize—is that children with autism deserve a separate, specialized IEP framework. One that understands the neurodevelopmental complexity of autism. One that measures progress not just in reading levels and math scores, but in self-regulation, social reciprocity, sensory tolerance, and the kinds of life skills that will actually determine whether our kids can navigate the world independently someday.
The current system isn’t built for that. And until it is, parents like me are left trying to translate our children’s needs into a language the IEP was never designed to speak.
Which brings me to the other translation problem—the one that happens even when everyone in the room is speaking English.
There’s a moment that happens in IEP meetings all across America that never makes it into the official minutes.
You know the one. The adults are talking fast, tossing around acronyms like FAPEs and LREs and ESY like everyone at the table grew up speaking special education. And you—the parent—you’re nodding along because you’re supposed to understand. But your stomach is in knots because you don’t fully understand what’s being decided about your child’s future.
Not because you aren’t smart enough. Because the system was built in a language that wasn’t written for families at all.
To find out more click on the question link:
Why do so many parents feel disempowered during IEP meetings, even when everyone has good intentions?
Now add another layer to that moment. Imagine the IEP sitting in front of you isn’t even in your first language. It’s 50 pages of dense legal terminology and specialized education jargon, and when you ask for a translation, the school district tells you it’ll take about ten days. San Francisco Unified has acknowledged that’s roughly how long their translation process takes. And parents and advocates have said what you already know: ten days is an eternity when your meeting is next week, when services are being adjusted now, when the “plan” isn’t theoretical—it’s becoming your child’s real-time life.
By the time the translated document arrives in your hands, the decisions have already moved on without you.
This is the gap that AiEP is trying to close. Not with another flashy “innovation theater” pilot that sounds good in press releases. With something painfully practical: giving parents the ability to understand the IEP before the meeting happens, not after the year is already locked in and your window to advocate has closed.
What AiEP Actually Does
AiEP is a free tool that was co-designed by Innovate Public Schools and Northeastern University’s Burnes Center for Social Change. It was built for one very specific purpose: helping families translate, simplify, and summarize IEPs so they can walk into those meetings prepared instead of disoriented.
Here’s how it works in real-world terms. A parent uploads their child’s IEP document. The tool is designed to strip out identifying information, then translate the plan into the languages families actually need in San Francisco—Spanish, Mandarin, Cantonese, Vietnamese—before breaking the whole thing down into plain language summaries that don’t require a law degree to parse. It surfaces the minutes of services, the key accommodations, the concrete commitments—so parents can see quickly what the school is promising and, just as importantly, what it isn’t.
That sounds simple, right?
It’s not. It’s disruptive in the best possible way, because it challenges the “paper advantage” that systems have held over parents for decades. When a document is so complex that only insiders can interpret it, the meeting stops being collaborative. It becomes performative. You’re watching decisions happen to your child instead of making them with your child’s team.
AiEP flips that power dynamic by turning the IEP into something a parent can actually read—and question.
Families Are Already Using It (And Finding What’s Been Missed)
Roughly 200 San Francisco families have been testing AiEP while the district works through privacy concerns and formal approval questions. And in those early uses, parents have described something that should alarm every one of us: they’re catching mismatches between what they believed was promised in the meeting and what the written minutes actually say.
Exactly the kind of quiet error that can cost a child a year of support.
If you’ve been through this process, you know what I’m talking about. You leave the meeting thinking you advocated well, that you secured what your child needed. Then weeks later, you realize the services aren’t showing up the way you understood them. And when you go back to the paperwork, the language is vague, or the minutes don’t reflect what you remember, or the goals are written so broadly they don’t actually commit the school to anything measurable.
That gap—between what was said and what was documented—is where children fall through the cracks.
A Word to Parents: You Are Not the Problem
I want to slow down here and speak directly to you, the parent reading this.
If you’ve ever left an IEP meeting thinking, “I should have asked something, but I didn’t even know what to ask”—you’re not alone.
If you’ve ever felt shame about not understanding the document, I want you to drop that shame right now.
The problem is not your intelligence. The problem is not your commitment to your child. The problem is the system’s language. The bureaucracy, the jargon, the 50-page documents written like legal briefs instead of like conversations about a human being you love.
AiEP is one example of AI being used the right way: not to replace human care or connection, but to translate complexity into clarity so families can participate with dignity. So you can show up to that table as an equal, not as a guest who’s supposed to just sign where you’re told.
To find out more click on the question link:
What should parents demand ethically and legally before using AI tools with their child’s IEP data?
But let’s also be sober about this. Because AI is a tool, not a savior. And this is your child’s private educational and disability-related information we’re talking about. It’s sensitive. It deserves protection.
The Privacy Question Parents Should Be Asking
School districts like SFUSD emphasize that non-approved apps should not be used with student data because of privacy obligations under laws and policies designed to protect kids. That doesn’t mean AiEP is “bad.” It means the question every parent should be asking isn’t “Is this tool amazing?”
The question is: “Is this tool safe, and how do we use it wisely?”
Wise use looks like asking plain questions without apology:
- Where is my child’s data stored?
- Is it encrypted?
- Is the document retained after processing, or is it deleted?
- Can I opt out of any secondary use of the information?
- Who else can access what I upload?
- What guardrails prevent the tool from producing a confident-sounding summary that misses something critical?
And most of all: How do we make sure AI is serving the parent’s voice instead of replacing it?
Because that’s the real issue here. The goal is not to “let AI handle it.” The goal is to help you show up stronger.
Why Open-Source Matters for Equity
AiEP is also open-source, and that matters more than people realize. When code is open-source, it can be audited by independent experts. It can be improved. It can be adapted for new languages and replicated in other districts—if people have the will to do it.
If we actually care about families who have been historically locked out of special education power because of language barriers, immigration barriers, work schedules, and time constraints, then tools like this are not a luxury. They are a form of justice.
They’re a step toward leveling a playing field that was never level to begin with.
A Faith-Based Stake in the Ground
Let me put my faith-based perspective on the table, because it matters here.
AI should never become a god in the room. It should never impersonate God, speak as God, or claim authority over your child’s identity or future. But AI can absolutely be used as a servant—a tool that helps you understand what’s written, prepare better questions, and advocate more effectively.
In a world that often leaves parents overwhelmed and isolated, I see tools like AiEP as a potential “loaves and fishes” moment: something small that multiplies capacity when it’s placed in the right hands with the right purpose.
God didn’t need the boy’s lunch to feed the multitude. But He used it anyway. That’s how I think about this technology. It’s not the miracle. It’s the offering that makes room for one.
You Were Never Meant to Be Silent
If you are a parent who has ever felt small in an IEP meeting—dismissed, confused, or invisible—I want you to hear this as a fact, not a pep talk:
You were never meant to be a silent observer in your child’s life. You are not a guest at the table. You are a critical voice at the table.
Tools like AiEP don’t give you that authority. They simply help you use it.
So here’s the invitation. Don’t let the system’s language steal your confidence. Don’t let fear of technology shut you down either. Test tools like AiEP carefully. Ask hard questions about privacy. Use the outputs as preparation, not as gospel. Look for other resources online that help you understand your rights and the process better before you ever walk into that room.
Then show up to that meeting with your spine straight, your heart steady, and your child’s needs clear in your mind.
What’s Coming Next
And while you’re preparing for the meetings ahead, know this: solutions like AiEP are just the beginning. There are people working right now—people who’ve been in your shoes, who’ve sat in those meetings and felt the same knots in their stomachs—to build even better tools. Tools that don’t just translate documents but revolutionize the entire way IEP services are provided. Tools that lift the administrative burden off teachers and administrators who are drowning in paperwork so they can actually teach. Tools that create dynamic, historical records of your child’s learning journey that close gaps instead of widening them.
We’re building something. And when it’s ready, you’ll be the first to know.
The Restoration
Because when an IEP finally speaks your language, it’s not just a translation of words.
It’s a restoration of power—back where it always belonged.
With you. The parent. The advocate. The voice that will not be silenced.