The Shock Collar
Mathew (pseudonym) was a sixth-grade student in a self-contained classroom in a small rural town in Colorado. He was approximately eleven years old and had been placed in the self-contained setting due to significant behavioral concerns. Mathew frequently took on the persona of a cat—scratching the floor with his hands and feet as if he were in a litter box, hissing at others, and attempting to scratch staff when redirected.
As a first-year special education teacher, I prepared diligently for his IEP meeting. I made sure all the paperwork was correct and walked in determined to do everything “by the book.” The meeting began smoothly. We introduced ourselves and reviewed the incidents that led to the proposed placement change.
Then Mathew’s mother spoke.
Mathew’s Mom: “I have an idea that I think will help Mathew.”
Me: “Okay, we’re listening.”
She opened a magazine she had brought with her. On the page was a picture of a person wearing a shock collar. She pointed to it and said matter-of-factly:
Mathew’s Mom: “If Mathew isn’t behaving, you just give him a little shock.”
The room froze.
The school psychologist’s eyes widened.
The social worker’s mouth literally dropped open.
The principal slowly looked over at me.
The general education teacher stared at the table.
And I—completely unprepared for this suggestion—started laughing. I tried to stop. I really did. But I couldn’t. I had to excuse myself from the room to get it together.
When I returned, I took a breath and carefully explained, “Schools are not permitted to use corporal punishment or aversive interventions such as shock devices.” We continued the meeting and finalized Mathew’s placement change using appropriate, research-based supports.
What We Learned
You can prepare all you want, but IEP meetings can still surprise you. The unpredictability isn’t just from the students we serve—sometimes it’s the adults, too.
