The "Mental Plug" and Where I've Been the Past Two Months

If you were to look at my wife’s laptop and open up her internet browser, you’d find nearly fifty tabs open. I once tried to explain to her that this chews up processor speed and will slow her computer down – which it does – but I gave up that fight long ago. But over the past year, I confess to feeling like my wife’s laptop with the processor all plugged up.

It’s been over two months since my last posting, and a lot of that has to do with what I call “mental plug.” It’s an experience that’s pretty common to all of us, especially when we are either juggling too many different tasks or have one or two in particular that are consuming inordinate amount of bandwidth. And while my return to a (mostly) teaching faculty position was supposed to provide a bit more flexibility and return some bandwidth, I’m not sure the theory has translated as fluently into practice as I’d hoped for. Something I don't typically share all too often is that I’m a parent of two children with special needs – one with a variety of challenging neurological and mental health differences, who has very much needed me as his best and strongest advocate alongside his mother.

For faculty, we’re all aware of the cognitive load that comes with teaching, and by and large, I’ve been blessed enough to do this for nearly two decades now, which simply means I’ve got a lot of tried-and-true lessons and activities related to whatever it is I’m teaching that day to lean on. That isn’t to say I’m not developing new materials – as I am – but it simply means on those days when the bandwidth is running especially low and I’m limited on planning time that I can still deliver a high quality learning experience for my students.

I’m also operating on a part-time basis as a sort of … special projects lead for professional development for our state’s public higher education system office. In part, this has allowed me to continue to work on my Leadership Academy and scale it further now to all public universities in the state along with the twelve community college campuses. Despite some technical issues (as there will always be tech issues), it’s been a generally smooth and successful transition as we continue to scale this program up. I still find myself shaking the feeling of being an imposter at times, as I question my leadership credentials, but with hundreds of faculty, staff, and managers having completed the various programs and attesting to its value and a few national awards under its belt, the work seems to be worth the investment of my time.

But being a parent of children with special needs – especially invisible disabilities – is what’s been the greatest consumer of my time, bandwidth, and wellness especially over the past year. My wife is a K-12 speech language pathologist with an 092 admin certification, and so, she is already incredibly well-versed in the field of special education law and practice. Between the two of us, we have fought tooth and nail with a school that has fought us nearly every step of the way in doing what is best for our son – from following the mandated individual educational plan (IEP) accommodations and communicating in a clear and consistent fashion to simply taking a commonsense approach to what the student needs to be successful. Suffice to say, we’ve had a masterclass in the concept of gaslighting as we are routinely parent blamed and watch the onus shifted back onto us for mistakes the staff has frequently made. That’s not to say we don’t have some amazing people supporting our kiddo either, but we all know a few bad apples can really ruin the experience for all. ?

Instead of spending an hour or two every other night at my laptop focused on a bit of research or some new emerging practices to explore for this blog, I’ve either been combing over special education statutes, IEPs, doctor evaluations, or crafting communications to the school team to once again address issues we are seeing from our end left unaddressed. We are fortunate enough to be able to have a lawyer support us; however, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t incredibly expensive and hasn’t chewed into our savings a bit. Work that I can do, and therefore avoid having the lawyer handle, is a lot of money saved in the long run. But it’s more time spent. One more “tab open on the lap” to plug things up.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from advocating for my son, it’s this: institutions don’t change easily. Schools, colleges, workplaces—there’s a natural resistance built into the system. But persistence, clear communication, and knowing your rights (or the rights of those you’re advocating for) can chip away at that resistance. Slowly but surely, we’ve been able to get done what’s needed to be done, inch by well-fought inch.

In my role as an educator and in professional development, I see this same struggle: faculty pushing for better policies, staff fighting for fair treatment, leaders trying to shift culture. Change is slow, but it happens. And it starts with knowing that just because someone in power says ‘that’s the way it is’ doesn’t mean that’s the way it has to be.

I used to think of bandwidth as something I just had to manage better—as if the right system, planner, or productivity hack would unlock some secret reserve of time and energy. But I’m coming to terms with the reality that bandwidth isn’t just about management. It’s about priorities. Right now, my family needs me in ways that don’t leave much room for other things. And that’s okay. Mind you, it doesn’t always feel okay, but I’m learning nonclosure is a part of life.

As far as my writing, this blog isn’t going anywhere. It might just ebb and flow along with life—and maybe that’s exactly as it should be.