When the Bus Stops Coming: The Conversation We Don’t Want to Have—But Must

I didn’t want to talk about it.

In fact, I avoided it for as long as I could.

Because once we start talking about post-secondary transition, we’re admitting something most of us aren’t ready to say out loud:

The bus stops coming.

There’s something sacred about that yellow bus, isn’t there? Whether we love it or loathe it, it’s reliable. Predictable. It comes each morning and delivers our children to a place where, we hope, they are known, supported, and learning something about the world—and themselves.

But one day, that bus doesn’t show up. Not because it’s running late. Because it’s never coming again.

That’s what transition really means. Not just leaving high school, but stepping into something far more uncertain—and for many families of students with disabilities, more terrifying.

I Was a Special Education Teacher. I Was an Advocate. And Then I Became That Parent.

I knew all the right timelines. I understood the IDEA requirements. I’d sat on countless IEP teams and walked families through transition planning. But when it was my own child’s future on the line, everything changed.

I wasn’t thinking about timelines. I was thinking about what happens when I’m no longer around to make the phone calls, fill out the forms, or hold systems accountable.

What happens when my child wants more—deserves more—but doesn’t yet have the tools or support to get there?

What happens when we reach the end of the road, and there’s no map?

The System Says “Start at 16.” I Say: Start with the End in Mind.

Technically, transition planning begins at 16.

But “technical” doesn’t cut it when it’s your child, your family, your fear.

We need to start earlier—not because the law demands it, but because our kids deserve it.

Start where you are, with what you know. What brings your child joy? What frustrates them? What do they need help with, and where do they shine without it?

Post-secondary transition isn’t a checklist. It’s a living, breathing plan that changes as your child does. And if we wait until the bus stops coming to ask the big questions, we’re already too late.

This Isn’t About College or Employment. It’s About Belonging.

When I talk to families about transition, I don’t start with college applications or resumes. I start with one question:

Where will your child feel they belong?

Because when our children leave the safety (and structure) of the school system, they need more than services—they need a place in the world. They need relationships, purpose, dignity. And they need adults in their corner who believe that’s possible.

That’s what I do now. I walk with families through that messy, emotional, often-overwhelming journey—not as an expert above them, but as a fellow traveler.

If You're Wondering When to Talk About It... You Already Are.

Here’s the truth I wish someone had told me sooner: If the thought of post-secondary transition is tugging at your heart, it’s time.

Not because you have all the answers. But because you’re willing to ask the questions.

And if you’re asking those questions alone, I want you to know something:

You don’t have to.

There’s a path forward—and I’d be honored to walk it with you.

Always Walking With You……Abbey