We Are All Autistic

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!

Last year, I read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightime, which was an astounding book. I have just finished reading The Speed of Dark by Elizabeth Moon, a biologist and the mother of a teenage autistic son. I cannot recommend this last book highly enough. Not only does Moon effectively show us the mind of a high-functioning autistic man, but she works in some disturbing themes about what, exactly, it means to be normal.

These books hit close to home for me. When I was a child, I refused to be touched, and was content to sit alone in my crib and playpen. Whenever anyone picked me up, I would cry. So says my mom. I was an enigma. I had to have speech therapy, and was taken to a child psychologist when I refused to interact with others in an age-appropriate manner. I remember being painfully shy. I remember my grandmother getting aggravated with me and teaching me how to give a hug by putting my arms around her, instead of standing there with my arms limp at my sides. When I hit puberty, magic happened for me. The shyness left, and words came. I cheerfully hug people now. I have to question the influence of hormones on brain function because of my own experience.

My older son flaps his hands when he gets excited. He is a brilliant kid, and sometimes his speech is a bit bookish. I can see shadows of it in him, although they are very vague. He has ADD. It all coorelates, according to the research.

My youngest screamed constantly. He was content only when staring at a fan, being held while I danced to Salsa music, or swinging in the hammock. He threw horrible screaming biting kicking fits, and could not be taken out in crowded public places once he could walk, as he would spin around in circles and bump into random people. Eventually, the fits would begin, so we limited our activities to calm environments as much as possible, although I can remember getting the evil eye in the supermarket more than once.

When he was three, I took him to be evaluated for Early Childhood Intervention. The assessment person told me that he qualified as we were walking down the hallway to the testing room. Most of what he said made no sense. He was in his own world, talking about things that interested him, and responded to questions such as “What is your name?” with ramblings about bats. I remember. The whole thing is in a transcript. Now it is funny. Thank God.

Teaching Sage idioms is a bit like teaching someone a foreign language though. He is almost eight now, and his speech has normalized to the point where anything out of the ordinary merely seems like a very slight developmental delay. Although there are days when he doesn’t remember what a “dishwasher” is. Then it will come to him, and he will slap his hand against his forhead and say, “I can’t believe I forgot that!”

He has been diagnosed with Sensory Integration Disorder, auditory processing difficulties and ADHD. The psychologist was reluctant to test him for Asperger’s initially because she was worried about him carrying the label. He turned out to have “soft Asperger’s features” but not the actual diagnosis. I didn’t want these diagnoses, necessarily, but I did want to know what exactly what was going on so I could help him the best that I can. It is good to know. When he doesn’t follow a directive, he is usually not being non-compliant–he is having difficulty processing the words. Things get better each and every day. He is on grade-level in reading, and was tested for gifted and talented in math. I don’t have the results back on that one yet.

He is so incredibly delightful. This kiddo and I have the same sense of humor and it is so fun to watch him fall out laughing on the floor. Today, we went to the creek and threw rocks. He skipped stones. I’ve never been able to do that. We watched the dog swim. He takes such joy in life. He inspires me.

Three years ago, I had a student with Asperger’s Syndrome. The other teachers absolutely hated him. They did not understand why he got special modifications. He looked normal. He usually acted normal. I can’t describe how abysmally his parents got treated in ARDs. I told them I would go with them to court anytime if they decided to. I couldn’t stand how the school treated this student and his parents. Thing is, a teenager is going to act like a butthead sometimes, whether they are autistic, have Aspergers, whatever. They couldn’t understand that he was dealing with the world feeling even more confusing to him than it is to most teenagers. It was frustrating.

I’m glad that I have been fortunate enough to work with students who have had autism and related disorders. If I hadn’t, would I understand about cutting tags out of shirts and replacing a blanket because it is “shocky”? Would I always be angry at Sage and punish him when he didn’t follow directions correctly?

Would I recognize my own experiences? The floor sometimes shifts when I am in a mall or other place where it is loud and the lights are artificial. My brain can’t process the experience. The same goes for the movie theater. I make myself go, but only to the kid’s movies or romances. The loud sounds and flashing images make me feel like running out of the theater. I never understood why until I started learning about sensory integration difficulties.

It is a difficult thing. I feel for parents who have kiddos with severe autism. That is a challenge to work with. However, some of us have glitches. Everyone in my family has autistic “glitches”, including myself. The thing I liked about the book was that it questioned what normal was, and that is something I have always done anyway. The ending surprised me, though. I won’t tell you why. You should read the book. It is soooo good. It is illuminating. It pulled things together for me that I hadn’t synthesized, even though it has all been laid out in front of me for years through experience and trainings.

Why are we different? What is normal? Is it okay to be different from the center? (Of course!) How much? How many standard deviations before we are not considered to be socially acceptable? If we could correct these disorders/differences, should we? So many questions….

Share and Enjoy: These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages.
  • bodytext
  • del.icio.us
  • Facebook
  • Google
  • E-mail this story to a friend!
  • Print this article!
  • StumbleUpon
  • TwitThis

4 Responses to “We Are All Autistic”

  1. on 22 Jan 2007 at 12:46 am mcewen

    Looks like we have quite a bit in common. Glad to have another book to add to my nightstand [even though it’s groaning already]. I read the Curious Incident on the plane back to England a few years back just after both my boys had been diagnosed with autism. If you liked Mark Haddon’s style, I’m just reading ‘A spot of bother’ which is very good too.
    Best wishes

  2. on 22 Jan 2007 at 1:52 am Margaret

    This is a fabulous post, Michelle. Very thought-provoking. I know I have students with some of these issues, and yet, in a classroom of 30+ students with NO info about the kids, it’s hard to figure out. I have chosen to err on the side of love, ie from a helping, understanding perspective and not punitive. It doesn’t mean that I don’t discipline, just that I am very explanatory, and calm when I do–and make sure to make it clear that it is for the student’s best interest.

  3. on 22 Jan 2007 at 4:39 am Tonya

    My coworker (who is in her late 40s) has an adopted five-year-old son who has been diagnosed with Sensory Integration Disorder and ADHD — and is also currently being treated for childhood bipolar disorder. It’s a very tough situation, and our company is not at all sympathetic to the time off she needs to take for his medical appointments/therapy or when the daycare calls out of the blue and can’t cope with the child anymore — COME AND GET HIM!! They’ve gone through at least a dozen daycares just in the 8 months I’ve been working there, plus two nannies who quit after a week. The world does not “get” these kids, because after all, there’s no blood spurting or anything to indicate that something is wrong — just “bad behavior” — and sometimes violent and frightening behavior. She’s so concerned that he’s not going to be able to function in a classroom, since he has no impulse control and has constant and violent meltdowns. Even though it’s early, there have been some positive signs that the bipolar meds are calming him. (It’s so sad — the birth mother was heavily into alcohol and drugs during the pregnancy, plus a history on both sides of mental illness).

  4. on 23 Jan 2007 at 5:43 am papyrus

    Excellent thought-provoking post. The ‘normal’ question is one that often fights its way to the forefront of our minds. And even if someone’s not ‘normal’, does that mean bad? For so many people it does. Today we laugh at stories of people having their left hand tied behind their back because left-handedness wasn’t normal. But this was happening not so long ago.

    I can second the mcewen’s recommendation for “Spot of Bother”. It’ll get you laughing, thinking and wondering.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS

Leave a Reply

ss_blog_claim=7eda732a3ce43d640126d29d499cd994