For over a decade, you’ve been the one explaining autism spectrum disorder to parents, teachers, and administrators. You’ve conducted countless evaluations, written numerous reports, and made detailed recommendations. Then, your child gets diagnosed with autism and suddenly your professional and personal worlds collide in ways you never expected.

Now you’re sitting in the evaluation meeting – not as the professional, but as the parent. Despite all your training, despite knowing exactly what the evaluation process entailed, there are so many questions racing in your head as you analyze the report. 

All of a sudden, you’re sitting on the other side of the table. As school psychologists, we’re trained to be objective, to look at the data, to make evidence-based recommendations. But when you’re living with a child who has an autism diagnosis, you realize that while data is crucial, it’s only part of the story.

Sitting in the meeting as a parent, you now empathize and understand what it means to spend 45 minutes trying to transition your child from one activity to another, even with visual schedules and timers in place. You know what it’s like to celebrate when your child finally masters a social skill you’ve been working on for months, only to see it disappear during times of stress.

Parents don’t just need information – they need hope, practical strategies, and sometimes just someone who understands. Now, when a parent tells you their child had a meltdown in the grocery store, you don’t just offer behavioral strategies. You share that you’ve been there too, and that it gets better with time and support.

You have a deeper appreciation for the exhaustion parents feel. When you recommend sensory breaks or social skills practice at home, you now understand exactly what you’re asking of families. You know how it feels to be both physically and emotionally drained, yet still need to be your child’s best advocate.

This dual perspective transforms how you practice. Seeing through both lenses, you’ve learned that children are so much more than their challenges. Children help us to see the world differently. 

To my fellow school psychologists, when working with students on the spectrum and their families, remember that every recommendation we make, every intervention we suggest, has real-world implications. What looks good on paper needs to work in real life, in real homes, with real families who might be juggling multiple responsibilities.

In evaluations now, you now go beyond the standard assessments and ask about, what does the morning routine look like? What brings joy to your child? What are the family’s biggest challenges right now? Because these are the things that matter most in daily life. And these are areas, where as school psychologists, we can expand our reach and services to support and intervene with families in a more meaningful way. 

Your professional knowledge helps you understand the clinical aspects of an autism diagnosis, but being a parent teaches you about autism in ways no textbook could. Like how your child’s literal interpretation of language makes you a more precise communicator, both at home and in your professional practice.

Some days, wearing both hats – the professional and the parent, feels exhausting. But this dual perspective is a unique gift. It allows you to bridge the gap between clinical knowledge and lived experiences, between professional recommendations and practical strategies.

As a school psychologist, our technical expertise is crucial, but our empathy and understanding of the day-to-day realities of living with autism are equally important.

Because at the end of the day, whether we’re sitting at our desks writing reports or sitting on our living room floors during a meltdown, we’re all working toward the same goal: helping our children thrive in their own unique ways.