Why do I do this to myself?

Six days. I have been worrying myself sick for six days, mentally preparing arguments for every situation I thought possible, since SMILE's teacher requested a meeting.  I'll call her Mrs. T.  There was the "I think he should be in a learning support classroom" argument, the "SMILE's tics are too much of a distraction" argument, and the dreaded "kids are teasing him" revelation.  I read up on IDEA (individuals with disabilities act), ready to preach about my son's right to an equal education in the least restrictive environment (mainstream classes in SMILE's case) as long as he is striving academically. I was ready to suggest mediation sessions between the parents of SMILE's classmates and myself because I was sure some of them must have voiced concerns about their children's education being thwarted by the presence of my autistic twitchy son.  I was armed with grandiose ideas of what it means to be a teacher and I was ready to blast Mrs. T.  with the challenge to do her job.

But none of that happened. SMILE's teacher,  along with his speech teacher, wanted to sit down with DAD and I to discuss how well he's doing.

Excuse me? I know he's doing well, better than well. But...oh my gosh! They know it too?

Now, that's not to say that the meeting was a complete ode to SMILE.  He's made a lot of progress since the beginning of the year, accepting more responsibility and playing at recess, but there's still farther to go.  The true focus of the meeting was to discuss what I can do to help SMILE mature.

Oh.  Mrs. T sited some of the problems she had earlier in the year. Turns out, that my little SMILE used to plop his bookbag on his desk and wait for his teacher to unpack his books and folder.  At the end of the day, he'd whine that he couldn't get his things to fit back in his bag.  Now, she beamed, he does it by himself.  She asked about home. "When SMILE sits down to do his homework...?"
    
"...I unpack his bag and take his work out of his folder."  I think I actually hung my head.

Mrs. T laughed and asked that I work with her to help SMILE develop more independence.  I vowed that I would.

No sooner than we all left the meeting, however, Mrs T collected SMILE from the library where he had been waiting. I walked over and asked if he remembered where the book he had been reading belonged on the shelf.  At the first sign of frustration, I asked if he wanted me to put it away for him.  He said "yes." 

"OOH!" I grunted and made a face at the two teachers.  "Sorry!"