‘They Said I Was Overreacting’: How I Uncovered the Truth Behind Frisco ISD’s Neurodiversity Support Mistakes

"You’re just overreacting — he’s fine."

That’s what the Frisco ISD special education coordinator told me on that humid September morning. The words hit me like thunder in the quiet, sterile district office. I gripped a crumpled folder of notes so tightly my fingertips turned cold and clammy, even as my son nervously fiddled with his frayed weighted blanket beside me. The faint smell of stale coffee mixed with distant hallway chatter—a backdrop to a moment that would change everything.

"Fine?" I thought, my heart pounding as I struggled to keep my voice steady. "No, he’s not fine. Not when his needs are dismissed with a flick of a hand."

This is the story of how I uncovered the hidden failures behind Frisco ISD’s neurodiversity support — the mistakes that left my family and so many others feeling invisible, overwhelmed, and silenced. If you’ve ever been told you’re "overreacting" or watched your child’s needs get minimized, you’re not alone. Let’s dive into what I learned, what’s broken, and, most importantly, what you can do about it.

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"They handed my kid a sensory kit on Diverse Abilities Day and said, ‘See? Inclusion!’

Yeah, right."

At first glance, Diverse Abilities Day seemed like a beacon of hope for our kids—a day where neurotypical students got to experience what neurodivergence feels like through simulations and activities. According to Frisco ISD’s initiative, the event’s goal was to foster empathy and understanding inside the community.

But the following day, the glossy paint peeled away. My son was back at school facing the same struggles: misunderstood meltdowns, unmet sensory needs, and teachers more focused on filling paperwork than truly adapting for him.

I asked his teacher during a tense meeting, "How are these kits helping my son daily?"

Her reply was vague: "We’re following the district’s inclusion guidelines."

But the feeling in my chest was clear—this was performative support, a mask hiding a much messier reality. The event broadcasted acceptance to the outside world, but inside the classroom, real inclusion was still elusive.

I’ve spoken with other Frisco parents who share this frustration. For many, Diverse Abilities Day, along with programs like Social and Interpersonal Learning (SAIL) and Specialized Behavior Support (SBS), feel more like band-aids than solutions.

What are SAIL and SBS?

• SAIL focuses on helping kids build social skills and relationships.
• SBS targets behavior challenges through tailored supports.

Both programs should be lifelines, but stretched resources and reactive approaches often leave kids slipping through the cracks.

One afternoon, during an IEP meeting where I fought hard for basic accommodations, the school’s assurances felt half-hearted, swamped by jargon and vague promises. I left wondering: If Diverse Abilities Day is the district’s shining face, what’s the real day-to-day effort like?

The truth is frustrating: public celebrations without sustained support do little to meet our kids’ real needs. We deserve more than optics—we deserve real, everyday inclusion.

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"If you think your kid’s behavior issues will be met with understanding, think again."

That’s what I wish someone had told me before walking into my first behavior intervention meeting with Frisco ISD. The reality? Discipline policies fall harshly and unevenly, especially on Black students and those labeled with special education needs.

In 2020, the Texas Education Agency revealed something troubling: Black students and special education students in Frisco ISD were disciplined at far higher rates than their peers. Dallas News, 2020

These aren’t just numbers—they’re real kids, real families facing disproportionate punishment instead of understanding.

I once asked a school staff member why my son was being suspended more than other kids for similar behaviors, and their reply was chillingly indifferent: "He’s got a behavior plan; if he breaks it, we have to act."

But the behavioral interventions often felt less like support and more like punishment. After one intense session, my son came home more anxious and stressed—far from the calm solution we’d hoped for.

Stress piles up when discipline misunderstands neurodivergence. Kids struggling with sensory overload or executive dysfunction get sent out or suspended rather than supported. That betrayal cuts deep, fracturing confidence, belonging, and trust.

Why does this happen? It’s not just ignorance. It’s systemic bias, historic inequities, and a failure to fully embrace neurodiversity in practice. While Frisco ISD revised discipline policies after 2020, gaps remain, leaks in the safety net where kids fall through.

Still, the district has made efforts—Diverse Abilities Day, reopening the Parent Sanctuary and Lending Library show good intent—but many families continue to face the harsh reality of uneven disciplinary practices and spotty behavioral support.

If you’re facing this, know this: you’re not overreacting. The system is flawed, and it needs parents like us to push for change.

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"The Parent Sanctuary? I didn’t even know that was real—until it wasn’t."

Most Frisco parents I talk to describe the special education system as a labyrinth of paperwork, acronyms, and conflicting advice. Trying to navigate it alone feels like juggling stepping stones blindfolded.

But the reopening of the Parent Sanctuary and Lending Library in 2024 brought a flicker of hope. This isn’t just a dusty repository of books—it’s a lifeline. A place where weary parents can find workshops, share resources, and connect with advocates who get it. Source

Still, even with this sanctuary, the challenges remain real and exhausting. The paperwork piles up, the ARD meetings swirl with jargon, and frustration can bleed into every conversation.

That’s why advocates like Dr. Tammy Cyra are so vital. Hearing her voice in meetings feels like a lifeline—someone who knows the system’s twists and can guide us through the fog. Without that expertise, navigating Frisco ISD’s special education maze can feel impossible. Source

Remember, Diverse Abilities Day is just one piece of a very big puzzle. The real work is the day-to-day hustle—advocating, managing, keeping hope alive.

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Every parent I’ve met here has faced that sting of being told they’re "overreacting"—only to find out they were the only ones seeing the real problem. You’re not imagining things. What you see and feel matters.

Here’s what you can do now:

• Prepare for IEP Meetings: Write down specific examples of your child's needs or challenges. Bring notes, questions, and advocate contact info.
• Ask for Clarifications: When staff use acronyms or jargon, ask them to explain. You have a right to understand.
• Document Everything: Keep detailed records of meetings, emails, and behavior incidents. This paper trail can protect your child.
• Join Parent Groups: Connecting with others in Frisco ISD can provide community, shared knowledge, and advocacy power.
• Use Technology: Tools like NeuroMule help organize IEP documents, track progress, and prepare for meetings—making advocacy less overwhelming.

Here’s a mini success story: One parent I know used NeuroMule to compile her son’s behavior logs and medical notes before an IEP meeting. The school staff took notice of the organized, detailed presentation and agreed to a new sensory support plan, which has made a visible difference for her son.

Navigating Frisco ISD’s neurodiversity support isn’t easy. But with clear strategies, community, and tools that lighten the load, you’re stronger than you think.

And if you’re ever tired or overwhelmed, remember: NeuroMule is here to be your calm, capable buddy in the chaos—helping you stay organized, cut through the noise, and keep your focus where it matters: your child’s well-being.

Because this fight isn’t just about policies or programs—it’s about our kids getting the care and support they deserve every single day.