Why Good Intentions Aren't Always Enough: A Day in the Life of a Special Education Teacher

If you’re a parent of a child receiving special education services, you’ve likely experienced moments of frustration. Maybe an IEP wasn’t followed exactly, or a teacher didn’t respond as quickly as you’d hoped. And while it might feel like the system—or even specific educators—aren’t prioritizing your child, I want to offer a look behind the curtain.

Because here’s the truth: most special education teachers care deeply about their students. We see their potential, their challenges, and how hard they’re working. We advocate for them within the school system, often fiercely. But we’re also human—and we're working in a system that makes it incredibly difficult to do it all.

Let me show you what a “normal” day used to look like for me as an elementary special education teacher.

My Caseload as a Special Education Teacher

At the start of the year, I’d typically have a caseload of around 15 students. By the end of the year? That number would creep up to 20–25. My students weren’t clustered in one class—I was collaborating with about 10 general education teachers across grade levels, plus essential-area teachers, paraprofessionals, and other special ed team members.

And here’s the kicker: I didn’t have any common planning time with those teachers. Often, I didn’t even get a full planning time at all. I gave up lunch breaks and stayed long after contract hours just to stay afloat.

A Day in the Life

Let’s walk through a typical day:

7:15–7:35 AM – Crosswalk duty-start the day making sure kids get to school safely—rain or shine.

7:35–7:55 – Check emails, print updated data sheets, prep materials for the day.

8:00–8:30 – Inclusion support in a second-grade classroom. I’m helping four students with learning disabilities and managing behaviors for a student with ADHD—all while also supporting a student from a different classroom due to limited staffing.

8:30–9:15 – Pull five second graders from three different classes for direct reading instruction in my room.

9:15–10:15 – Inclusion support in fifth grade math and science—adapting assignments, reteaching, and helping with classroom management.

10:15–10:30 – Head to kindergarten, check behavior contracts, and take students for sensory breaks.

10:30–11:30 – Small group math instruction for a different set of fifth graders—interrupted by a crisis with a student in another grade. I pause the lesson, walk the group with me to handle the situation, then return to teaching.

11:30–12:00 – Inclusion support in kindergarten again—this time for two students with ADHD and one with a history of trauma.

12:00–12:45 – My “planning” time. I give half of it away to provide sensory breaks for two fourth graders.

12:45–1:15 – Second grade math inclusion support for a student with autism, one with a learning disability, and one with a hearing impairment and ADHD.

1:15–1:45 – Lunch... technically. I’m eating at my desk while finishing an IEP draft and answering emails.

1:45–2:15 – Pull fifth graders for reading intervention.

2:15–2:45 – Teach social skills/emotional regulation to a rotating group.

2:45–3:00 – Check kindergarten behavior contracts again and hand out rewards.

3:00–4:00 – ARD meeting.

4:00–5:30ish – Emails, paperwork, lesson planning—checking in with the teacher whose student was in crisis--mentoring a new special ed teacher--hoping I can feel at least 25% ready for tomorrow.

Why Am I Sharing This?

Because I want you to know: if it ever felt like your child wasn’t getting everything they needed, it likely wasn’t due to a lack of care. It was due to a lack of time, resources, staffing, and structural support.

Your child’s teacher probably wanted to collaborate more, individualize more, communicate more. But teachers are pulled in so many directions that some days, it’s about triaging the most urgent needs—and that feels terrible because every child is important.

What Can Parents Do?

Support and communication are key. If you’re a parent, keep advocating—and know that many teachers are doing the same from inside the system. And if you're ever unsure about what's going on, ask. Kindness and curiosity go a long way.

This inside knowledge is exactly what makes me a unique advocate. I’ve lived the realities of the classroom, so I understand the pressures and the limitations teachers face—but I also know what must happen to ensure your child gets the support they’re legally and ethically entitled to.

As an advocate, I won’t shy away from holding schools accountable. But I also know how to work with the system. I help parents build positive, collaborative relationships with schools—because that’s where the best outcomes happen. Together, we can problem-solve, communicate effectively, and make sure your child’s needs are being met, all while presuming positive intent with the school.