Courtney Jayne, 40, the mother of two children with special needs, is used to rolling with the punches. So when the schools in her hometown of Louisville, KY, closed back in March at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, she quickly developed a new routine with her 11-year-old son, Owen, and 8-year-old daughter, Penelope—one she's maintained since then.

"Every morning we meet at the kitchen table just before class starts at 9," Jayne explains. "Both kids need to have their teeth brushed and their pants on." The pants are a must, Jayne says. "We need some kind of normalcy over here," Jayne says with a laugh.

While they've all adjusted to the new arrangement, it's a far cry from the routine of previous school years. With the kids' classes being conducted via videoconferencing (and independent work), the Jayne family lacks most of the in-person support that has made mainstream school possible for Owen in the past. Owen is extremely verbal and able to absorb information rapidly, but his autism, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), sensory integration disorder, and generalized anxiety make school a challenge, especially without extra assistance. In addition to being a parent, Jayne is now her kids' teacher and Owen's full-time aide. Penelope, who also has ADHD, needs help staying on track as well.

Since March, millions of families like the Jaynes have been forced to adapt to remote learning with limited outside support. And while many health experts say that school closures are necessary to curb the spread of COVID-19, they undeniably cause strain: In a recent survey by the Child Neurology Foundation of nearly 2,000 families with children with special needs, half reported aggressive outbursts by their children every day or several times per week.

"Nobody is functioning at their peak right now," says Heather Johanson, MS, an educational advocate for families in the San Francisco Bay area. "So much heavy lifting is on the parents, who have to help their kids through the entire school day.

"And teachers have had to retool everything they've done for their entire careers," continues Johanson, who used to teach children with dyslexia in grades kindergarten through high school and now mentors teachers in one of her former districts.

But it's children with neurologic deficits who are hurting the most, she says. "For kids who have attention or executive functioning deficits, remote schooling is a killer. The environmental supports they'd have in school, like a bell ringing to signal the transition from one activity to another, aren't there. For kids who thrive on connection or learn by talking things out with peers, everything is much harder at a distance."

Because of his multiple diagnoses, Owen spends the morning in a specialized classroom with three other students, working through various assignments, and then meets privately with the teacher to go over any questions. After his two hours of schooling are complete, Jayne turns her attention to her daughter, who's in a mainstream classroom.

This remote "nontraditional instruction" (or NTI, as their district calls it) is not ideal for either child, says Jayne. Both can get anxious, angry, and easily overwhelmed. "I'm constantly redirecting them, keeping Owen calm, keeping them both focused. Their education has become my full-time job."

For Rachel Ernst, a stay-at-home mother of three in Ventura, CA, the loss of in-person services for her sons James, 7, and Teddy, 5, has been challenging. Both occupational therapy for James, who has ADHD and dyslexia, and speech therapy for Teddy, who has global developmental delay, were suspended in March for several months. As a replacement, James was given assignments that he was expected to complete with his mother by his side. "He was doing more work than he had been doing at in-person school, but with much less support," she says. Between organizing the boys' therapies and remote learning and taking care of her youngest son, Ezra, Ernst says she "nearly had a mental breakdown" trying to juggle everything.

James and Teddy have resumed their occupational and speech therapy, but the extended screen time of virtual school leaves them overwhelmed and less able to study. Fortunately, school officials have been responsive. "We've found that talking to the teachers and to James' special-needs case manager has helped us so much," Ernst says. "They've been understanding and accommodating." For example, writing a four- or five-sentence journal entry could take James around an hour. "His teachers agreed that he can use talk-to-text and print out the words and glue them in his journal," says Ernst. "That takes 10 minutes instead of 60."

Customized solutions like that are more successful than a one-size-fits-all approach, says Johanson. "It's never as simple as having one intervention for one diagnosis," she says, especially since many children have multiple disabilities with complex needs.

However, some general habits like getting adequate sleep are beneficial as well, says Shafali Jeste, MD, FAAN, director of the CARING Clinic at the UCLA Center for Autism Research and Treatment. "Kids need healthy sleep to learn and encode what they experience during the day," Dr. Jeste says. And when they don't get the sleep they need—nine to 11 hours for kids under the age of 13—they tend to be more irritable and have other behavioral challenges.

In addition, Dr. Jeste advises taking frequent breaks from the screen to encourage a more productive school session. "Children have limited attention spans, and it's not feasible for them to sit for hours and learn via Zoom. Breaks allow them to reset their attention so they can focus later." Kids should go for a walk outside during at least one of the breaks. "The change of scenery can be very important for learning and well-being," Dr. Jeste says.

As the Ernst family did, reach out to your child's school and teachers about what will—and won't—work for your family. "Collaborating with teachers is so important," says Johanson. "Usually the teacher is overwhelmed too, so if a parent says, 'Hey, my kid is having meltdowns every time we do homework. Could we try a talk-to-text app instead?' most teachers will lean right into that." Johanson encourages parents to challenge concepts rather than teachers. "Instead of saying, 'This amount of homework is ridiculous,' try 'We appreciate your help, but our child is struggling. Could we try something else instead?'"

She also recommends what she calls "chunking"—breaking down each assignment into manageable pieces. It's a strategy that's worked well for Jayne's children. She says her fridge and kitchen table are dotted with notes and schedules for Owen and Penelope. "Checklists for Penelope's assignments really help with her anxiety," Jayne says. "Owen ticks off his assignments as well, and it helps him just to know what's going on and what's coming next. They're allowed to take breaks whenever they want, but their school day has a lot of structure."

For parents who are feeling particularly overwhelmed, Johanson suggests picking a few different priorities for the semester and focusing on those while letting the rest go. "Do what you can, get creative in how you do school, and just allow yourself to forget the rest," she says. Both parents and kids will be better for it. "Kids with special needs are resilient," she says. "Just do your best and they'll be fine—they really will."

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For additional information about dealing with disruptive behavior, read Expert Tips for Parents of Children with Special Needs During the Pandemic.