Earlier this week, during the Big Meeting at school, I mentioned to Sophie’s team that she’s been nostalgic lately for pre-school. Several heads around the table nodded. She’s been talking about it at school, too.

It’s pretty clear that Sophie has been thinking about her old school as a way of preparing to go to a new one. I decided a Valentine’s Day visit was in order, so I texted Ms. Janice.

Sophie’s pre-school is a very special place. It’s a public school, run like any other pre-school, except that it’s meant for special needs kids. And their typical peers are welcome.

Because it’s the 3 and 4-year-old set, parents of all kinds of kids embrace this sort of inclusion and it’s pretty much kumbaya 24/7 — for two years.

It’s been six years, but Sophie remembers her classmates, therapists, aides, the hamster (I think it was a guinea pig, actually) and of course, Ms. Janice, her teacher. When we arrived this morning, Ms. Janice was wearing a purple tee shirt and purple Nikes (she and Sophie share a favorite color) and had a bunch of hugs for Sophie, along with a stuffed bear holding a KitKat bar.

We had a lovely visit but I could tell something was bugging Ms. Janice, who admitted she was having a bad week — she didn’t share details but it’s had to do with student placements for next year. A big part of her job is helping to make sure that her students land in the right spots after pre-school.

As Sophie and I have learned, it only gets harder as you advance.

“This is Sophie, she’s in general ed fifth grade,” Janice told a colleague who stopped by her classroom while we were there today, super proud of Sophie’s success.

“And you are the reason that happened,” I reminded her. “You gave me the courage to ask for that.”

She smiled, still a little rueful, then (after a few more hugs) we had to leave because Ms. Janice’s room had filled up for a staff meeting.

Sophie and I went home to finish making valentines, then I dropped her off at school with a big bag of cards and candy and headed to work.

My phone rang. It was the school psychologist, following up on the meeting and the issue over the “verbally or physically aggressive” line.

See also: Taking “Individualized” Out of the IEP — and Inaccurately Labeling My Kid as Physically Aggressive

“You know,” she said toward the end of the conversation, “I have been a psychologist in other districts but this is my first year in Tempe. And I haven’t used that program much and I didn’t really understand what was happening with it until you said, `But you can’t use an automated program, my kid is an individual!”

And then, she said, a lightbulb went off. She said she’s not going to use that program anymore. And she’s in the process right now of re-interviewing the teacher and putting together a new report about Sophie.

“Tell the teacher to be honest, okay?” I asked. “I don’t want her to hold back.”

She promised she would, and thanked me for speaking up.

I thanked her for listening.