I will be honest with you.

I am not a teacher. I am a mom. I have navigated the overwhelm of therapies, the silence after a hard day at school, and the fierce hope that someone, somewhere in that classroom, truly sees my children for the brilliant, unique people they are.

This comes from that place. The messy, loving, and sometimes lonely place of wanting your child to belong. It is built from my own desperate searches, heartbreaking setbacks, and the small, glorious victories that showed me what’s possible. So, from one parent to another, let us talk about real tools and stories that can help bridge that gap between hope and reality. You can read more about my heart behind this Blog.

Tools That Actually Work in Real Life

Creating a space where your child is understood means finding tools that speak their language and sharing them with the people in their world. This is not about fancy programs. It is about practical, tangible things that make daily life feel safer and more joyful.

What You Can Share with Their Educators

I remember walking into meetings feeling small, armed with a folder full of worries. What helped me find my voice was shifting from just explaining diagnoses to sharing what works for my kids at home, I have to say my kids teachers have really helped us.

For Adrián, visual aids are everything. His anxiety melts when he knows what is coming next. I started making simple visual schedules for our home routines. I printed one out for his teacher, it was not a demand. It was an offering. “This helps him at home. Maybe it could help here, too?” That simple sheet of pictures became his anchor in the classroom chaos. And to my surprise they have been using them at school too! This is why it is so important to have an open communication with School.

Then there are sensory tools. For Guille, it is a specific textured fidget. I bought an extra one, just for school. I told his aide, “This is not a toy. This is his steering wheel. It helps him navigate the day.” Framing it that way changed everything. It became a tool for success, not a distraction.

My biggest piece of advice? Offer these not as criticism, but as collaboration. You are the expert on your child. You hold the missing pieces to the puzzle. You can be a super team with School Teachers and support staff.

Resources for Your Own Toolkit (and Sanity)

Parenting is relentless. You need resources that support you, not exhaust you.

Start with story. I looked everywhere for books where my boys could see themselves. Not as a lesson, but as a hero. That search, and that gap, is why I eventually created Loving Pieces Books I needed stories that showed the world through their eyes, to give them that mirror and to give their peers and teachers a window.

But you cannot pour from an empty cup. My most vital resource has been community. Finding other parents who get it, who do not need the backstory, who just say, “Yep, me too.” It is a lifeline. For tracking progress and making sense of it all, a simple app or even a dedicated notebook can help you see patterns and celebrate wins you might otherwise miss.

Stories That Build Understanding, Not Just Awareness

Concepts do not change hearts. Stories do. Here are a few from our own life that made a difference.

A Small Victory That Changed Everything

In first grade, Adrián was struggling during group reading time. The noise, the closeness, it was all too much. His wonderful teacher, Ms. Carmen, called me. Instead of listing problems, she asked, “What does he love? What makes him light up?” I told her about his obsession with space facts.

The next week, she gave him a special job: to be the “Train Fact Captain.” During transitions, he could share one cool fact. It gave him a structured, celebrated way to participate. His peers did not see a kid struggling to cope. They saw an expert. They started asking him questions. It was a tiny shift that changed his entire social standing. It showed me that inclusion is not about forcing a square peg into a round hole. It is about reshaping the hole.

What My Sons Have Taught Me

Guille, my five year old, is largely nonverbal. For a long time, I equated his silence with not understanding. One day, he was upset, and I ran through my usual list of questions. “Hurt? Hungry? Tired?” Nothing. In my frustration, I just sat down on the floor next to him and sighed, “I just wish I knew what you needed, my love.”

He stopped crying, crawled into my lap, and put his hand over my heart. Then he took my hand and put it over his own. He was not just telling me he loved me. He was telling me he felt my love, and he was giving his back. He taught me that communication is so much bigger than words. My job is not to make him talk. My job is to listen in every way he knows how to speak.

Weaving Connection Into Everyday Life

Social emotional learning is not a class. It is the fabric of how we connect. Here is how I try to weave it into our world.

Fostering Empathy with Peers and Siblings

This starts at home. With Adrián and Guille, we practice “feeling faces” in the mirror. We name emotions in movies. I explain Adrián’s need for quiet to his brother in simple terms: “Guille, Adrián’s ears are feeling too full right now. Let’s use our quiet voices.”

For peers, stories are my number one tool. When I volunteer in class, I might read a book that features a character with sensory sensitivities. After, I simply ask, “Has anything ever felt too loud or too bright for you?” Kids always say yes. That shared moment of understanding builds a bridge. It makes my son’s experience relatable, not strange.

Why I Wrote Books for This Very Moment

This is the heart behind Loving Pieces Books I wrote the stories I needed but could not find. Stories where the autistic character is not a puzzle to be solved, but a friend to be made, a hero on a journey. I use them with my own boys, and I share them with their schools.

They are conversation starters. They are peace offerings. They are a way to say to a teacher or a classmate, “This is his world. Let me show you how beautiful it can be.” The goal is to build a culture where differences are not just accepted, but embraced as part of the rich tapestry of the classroom.

Remember, you are not just advocating for a seat at the table. You are showing them how your child makes the table better. Some days you will be a fierce warrior. Other days, you will be a tired human who just gets through. I have been both.

If you are looking for a place to start, I invite you to explore our FREE Resources. It is a collection of simple tools and guides I made from our own journey, for the moments when you need a little backup. You are the best thing your child has. And you are not alone.