Hi again,
Week two. The one-page sheet you built last week is out in the world, doing its job. And then a gen-ed teacher finds you in the hall, holding it: "We tried the extended time on the quizzes. It's not helping. What else can we do?"
Fair question. She's not wrong, either — the extended time genuinely isn't helping. And your brain does the thing it always does: starts spinning up ideas on the spot. A word bank? Read the questions aloud? Fewer items? You'll get there, because you always do. But it's week two, and you're the only accommodation-idea generator on campus, and that generator is already running warm. Multiply this hallway by a whole caseload and you can feel how September goes.
Here's the shift I've landed on. Last week we built the sheet that explains the accommodations a student already has. This week is a different job: coming up with new ideas when a support isn't working. Communicating what exists versus generating what might help. Two different problems, and this one is the tired-brain one.
That's the part AI can take a real swing at. Not deciding anything. Just handing you a menu of possibilities so you're not brainstorming from a blank stare fifth period.
Describe the need, not the kid
Everything here runs on one move, and it's the whole ballgame: you describe a need, never a child.
"A middle schooler who freezes on multi-step directions in a gen-ed science class." Read that back. There's no kid in it. There's a need — one that thousands of students share, in thousands of classrooms, right now. The AI can brainstorm against that all day, and no real student is anywhere near the conversation.
Now the tempting mistake, because it's the fast one. You've got the IEP open. It has an accommodations page. Why not paste that and ask, "what else would help?" Don't. The document is the child — name, scores, the whole file. What you need instead is one sentence you write yourself, describing the need in plain words. Not the page. The sentence.
Describe the need. A need isn't a kid. A thousand kids share it.
And your district's AI policy is still the final word — check it before you paste anything.
The prompt
You are an experienced special education teacher helping a colleague brainstorm support ideas. Here is one de-identified need and setting, written by me, containing no student names or details: [describe the need and the class, e.g., "a middle schooler who freezes on multi-step directions in a gen-ed science class"]. Give me a menu of about 10 to 12 support ideas to try. Group them by type: how the material is presented, how the student responds, the setting and environment, and timing and scheduling. For each idea, add one sentence on what it looks like in the classroom, and flag whether it's no-prep or needs-prep. Don't diagnose anything, and don't invent any details about a student — these are brainstorm ideas for me and my team to judge.
That last line is the guardrail. You're asking for a list of possibilities, not a verdict on a kid the AI has never met. It doesn't know your student, so it doesn't get to pretend it does.
Half of it will be a dud (that's fine)
What comes back is a starting menu, not a plan. Some of it will be genuinely useful. Some will be things you already tried. And some will be nonsense for your room, because the AI has never met this student, has never stood in that science class, and doesn't know the teacher asking.
So read it like the professional you are and start crossing things off. Half the list, probably. Don't fight that — it's the point. A menu is supposed to have more on it than you'll order. The ideas that survive your judgment, the ones that fit this kid, this teacher, this class, that's the win. The AI made the menu. You're the one who knows which dishes are actually good here.
This menu is not the IEP
One thing has to be crystal clear, because it's the line that keeps everybody safe.
A brainstorm menu is not the IEP, and running this prompt changes nothing in it. Changing what's in a student's IEP is the team's call, through the proper process, with the paperwork that goes with it. This menu isn't for that.
It's for two things. One: plain, good-teaching supports that any student in the room could get tomorrow — a word bank, directions read aloud, a checklist taped to the desk. No meeting required for good teaching. Two: walking into the team conversation with options instead of a shrug. When it is time to formally revisit a support, you get to say "here are a few things I think are worth trying" instead of "I'm out of ideas." The menu doesn't replace the process. It just means you show up ready.
"What do I do for him?" is a dead end. "Here are three things to try — pick the one that fits your class" gets a yes.
The part nobody tells you
A menu changes the whole conversation with a gen-ed teacher.
"What do I do for him?" puts the entire problem on your desk, alone. But hand that same teacher three real options — "try the word bank, or read the questions aloud, or cut the quiz to the ten that matter, pick whatever fits your fifth period" — and something shifts. Now they're choosing. Now it's their call in their room, and people say yes to their own decisions in a way they never say yes to homework you assigned them.
Options make collaborators. A shrug makes you the sole owner of every problem on your caseload, which is exactly the job that's burning you out by week two.
Try it this week
Pick the one support that isn't landing right now — the extended time that isn't helping, the seating change that didn't move anything. Write the need in one sentence, with no kid in it. Run the menu. Then do two small things: pick one idea you can try this week, and set aside one idea worth bringing to the team the next time you formally look at that student's plan.
One tried, one saved. That's a good week two.
Then hit reply and tell me the need you've never found a good support for. The one that stumps you every year. I'm collecting the hard ones, and yours is almost certainly sitting on somebody else's caseload too.
Talk soon,
Shaun
P.S. — If that gen-ed teacher who asked "what else can we do?" would find this useful, forward it their way. Better yet, build the first menu together. Two brains on the need beats one tired one in the hall.
A quick but important note: this newsletter is for general educational and informational purposes only. I'm a special education teacher sharing time-saving ideas. The views here are my own and don't represent any school district or employer. I'm not a lawyer, and nothing here is legal, compliance, or professional advice. Always follow your district's and state's policies, especially on AI use and student privacy, and check with the right person in your district before acting on anything significant. You are the professional: review and finalize everything yourself. And never put student names or identifying details into any AI tool.