The Space Between Advocacy and Partnership

Since the early 90s, I have loved Dave Matthews.

Not just the music.

The way his songs capture the complicated spaces where people live.

The moments between what we say and what someone hears.

The moments between what we hope for and what we fear.

The moments when two people can care deeply about the same thing and still find themselves farther apart than they ever intended.

One song has always stayed with me:

“The Space Between.”

Because after more than 32 years in special education, I have learned that much of this work happens in that space.

The space between a parent’s concern and a school’s response.

The space between a teacher’s intention and a family’s experience.

The space between advocacy and partnership.

And that space matters.

Because it is where trust is built.

And where trust can be lost.

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There is another Dave Matthews phrase that has always resonated with me:

“Under the Table and Dreaming.”

Because before there are evaluations, IEPs, goals, accommodations, and services, there is something much bigger.

There is a child.

A family dreaming of confidence, independence, and a future full of possibilities.

A teacher dreaming of seeing strengths emerge and potential realized.

At the heart of every conversation is the same dream:

A child’s future.

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My husband and co-founder calls me “Mommy Lion.”

And honestly?

He is right.

Because every parent knows that feeling.

Someone says something about your child, and suddenly the calm, thoughtful version of yourself takes a brief vacation.

Enter Mommy Lion.

Claws polished.

Ready.

Because when it is your child, everything changes.

It is no longer just a student being discussed.

It is your child.

Your hopes.

Your fears.

Your dreams.

Your whole heart sitting in that chair.

And here is the funny thing about Mommy Lion:

She does not particularly like the space between.

The space between what you know about your child and what someone else sees.

The space between your hopes and someone else’s concerns.

The space between “we are working on this” and “my child needs help now.”

Sometimes, she wants to jump right over that space.

And honestly?

I understand.

Because I have been there.

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For more than three decades, I have sat at the IEP table.

I have been a teacher, administrator, coordinator, and Director of Special Education.

I have helped families and educators navigate difficult conversations and find solutions centered around children.

I understand the process.

I understand the responsibilities schools carry.

I understand the importance of data, services, accommodations, interventions, and supports.

But becoming a parent taught me something no professional experience could fully teach me:

Knowing the process does not remove the emotion.

Knowing the law does not remove the fear.

Knowing how teams work does not make it easier when the child at the center of the conversation is yours.

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Becoming a parent allowed me to see the space between differently.

Parents are not looking at a situation as a file.

They are looking at their child.

They see the child behind the paperwork.

They see the strengths others may miss.

They see the challenges others may never witness.

That perspective matters.

It is not an obstacle.

It is an essential part of the conversation.

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But my years in education taught me something equally important:

Everyone at the table brings a piece of the picture - a piece that can close the space between.

Parents bring a lifetime of knowing and loving their child.

Educators bring expertise, experience, and a commitment to helping that child succeed.

The challenge is that caring does not always mean understanding.

A parent sees the child before school, after school, and on the hardest days.

A teacher sees the child navigating learning, friendships, expectations, and routines.

A specialist sees patterns and areas of need.

An administrator sees systems and responsibilities.

Every perspective matters.

But no one closes the space between alone.

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That is why we created Same Team.

Because parents deserve more than information.

They deserve understanding.

They deserve confidence.

They deserve to know how to ask questions, participate meaningfully, and advocate effectively.

And schools deserve families who are informed, prepared, and ready to work together.

Because the space between advocacy and partnership will always exist.

But it does not have to become a divide.

It can become a bridge.

The space between a parent’s love and a teacher’s expertise.

The space between a family’s hopes and a school’s experience.

The space between what we know and what we are still learning.

That is where trust is built.

That is where teams grow.

That is where students thrive.

Because the space between advocacy and partnership is not where we stand apart.

It is where we learn to stand together.