Well, it only took three days before the school called me about Bean. *sigh* I was visiting teaching yesterday afternoon, when the they called David. David called my cell, and I then jumped in the car, and roared off toward the school. My jumbled thoughts went along the lines of “Nooooo nonononono not again these are specialists nonononononooooooo what happened what will I do please please please don’t kick him out no no nonononononononoooo” Or something along those lines.
It seems, when getting-on-the-bus time came, he had a nuclear melt-down, and they cannot ride the bus when wigging-out. The teacher took him back to the classroom and called us. While waiting for us, he ran and hid, which is typical, and once he calmed himself down, all was sunshine and rainbows again. When I arrived, he was playing quietly. The teacher was unfazed by the whole thing. *huuuuuge sigh*.
Turns out someone else had a book he likes HAS to carry to the bus stop for the world to continue to spin. Once they teacher got him back to the classroom and he hid-it-out, he was able to explain this to her. She found the book, put his name on it, and all was rosy and rainbows again. Think “Monk” in a very small redheaded body.
This is nothing to me. I deal with this all the time. What IS new and awesome: Having a teacher who completely understands and doesn’t look at my child as the Tasmanian Devil. She understands autism and understands this is not a typical kid being manipulative or bratty- even when it looks that way. This teacher understands he cannot make eye contact well, she knows not to hug him or touch him unexpectedly- and I don’t have to constantly explain and justify the boy that is my beloved son.
He’s excited for school this morning. He’s assured his book will be in his cubby, and all is right in the world. I love me some Special Ed teachers. I really, really do. Angels among us…