I often hear horror stories in the news, from other teachers and all over the internet about parents being in some epic battle with their child’s school or day care because their child had to be restrained, separated from others or other cases like that.
Most of the time, everyone sides with the parent in a unanimous cry of outrage in the complete and total mistreatment of their child. Most of the time, that comes with very little information as the schools are often unable to comment on the situation, same with any enforcement personnel. This means that we only have the parent’s information to go on.
I won’t argue however that most of the time, that’s all we really need. What’s wrong is wrong.
Still though, this creates a situation in society that basically ties the hands of those teachers and care givers should they truly have the right or need to handle a situation where those circumstances arise.
Dear care givers
What I’m trying to say is, if you care for my child and he is in danger of hurting himself or someone else, please do restrain him. Please do send him for a time out, even to some other room if need be.
I won’t sue. I won’t call the media.
If my son hurts himself… in a private area… please do check it out. He’s hurt, he needs attention, give it to him. I understand that it’s not sexual, I understand that you have his and my best interests at heart.
I won’t sue. I won’t call the media.
But be warned
If my trust is abused or my understanding is taken advantage of, I will hunt down the person and make sure that no one finds them until skyscrapers start going up in remote parts of northern Canada.
My children are that important to me… but they’re also that important to me that I don’t want to see his care givers afraid to touch them for fear of me being the type of parent to make it a national news story.
The reality
The reality is that when my son completely loses it and hurts himself or his little brother, or is breaking things, or is just generally out of control… I will put him in his room. I will drag him there if I have to.
And I fully understand… no, I expect… that anyone else that I have entrusted with the responsibility of watching him would do the same.
I won’t call it barbarism when someone does the exact same thing that I would have done in the same situation. I won’t give my story to the first reporter that will listen to me.
The reality is that I understand how it’s come to this but I also feel disappointed that it has.
Somewhere, lines have blurred… and it’s often due to those who take advantage of the situation or react too harshly to the situation. Those care givers who go overboard and actually hit a child, or do something else that is completely inappropriate.
There’s also the “not knowing” that we must face… since our children aren’t great at relaying the details, we have to just hope that the teacher’s telling the truth. And if they did do something wrong, what would be the likelihood of that?
In a perfect society, every person that comes into contact with a child would be certified do-gooders with halos and wings that could never do any harm… but there is no perfect society and that leaves us skeptical and scared.
But I refuse to hand cuff those who care for my children by never letting them do what I would do myself to ensure their safety.
If I wouldn’t do it, damn straight I won’t let them do it. But if I would take an action, such as dragging my kid, kicking and screaming to a time out… then I fully support his teachers/care givers doing the same.
I know a lot of parents won’t agree with me, or simply aren’t willing to let “strangers” do those sorts of things… I can understand that. But it is how I am and how I feel about it. If I don’t trust the person that my son is with, he won’t be with that person. It’s that simple.
In 2007, a wonderfully fun little movie called Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium came out featuring Dustin Hoffman, Natalie Portman and Justin Bateman. While this movie will never hold a candle to films such as the Wizard of Oz or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, it does shine in it’s own special way.
Just Believe
The Premise
Dustin Hoffman plays the magical being, Mr. Magorium… and by magical, I mean that he’s 243 years old and brings toys to life. His assistant is played by Natalie Portman who is struggling to find herself. She tells Mr. Magorium that she “feels stuck” and he responds by giving her the Congreve Cube… uh… a block of wood.
As you get accustomed to the magical world within the store, Mr. Magorium throws in a shocker in announcing that he has to leave… effectively, he’s going to die tomorrow.
This leaves her with a store that she’s not sure she wants, an accountant that hasn’t even seen a toy in years and a fun little boy sidekick type that is in the peak of his magic believing life.
The Magic
It’s a wonderfully fun movie for the kids… Cameron was mesmerized through most of it but did get bored a few times as the discussions about life would take away from the store and the magic.
But that was the thing, I think, in that this movie held so much more magic for the parents than it did for the children. I think that is what holds it back from being a classic like Oz or Willy Wonka but it’s also what makes it so important for parents to watch.
You see, as Mr. Magorium “leaves” and his assistant has to figure out her life, the store begins to lose it’s colour, the toys stop coming to life… essentially, it dies. It becomes a dark, dreary place that no one wants to step foot into.
It’s not until Molly (Natalie Portman’s character) realizes what it is that she has to do that everything comes back to life. She believes in the magic, she believes in the toys, she believes in the store and most of all, she believes in herself again… and the Congreve Cube begins to move.
It’s her belief that causes the cube to move, it’s her belief that brings back the colour and it’s her belief that leads the viewer to believe that, providing she always does believe, she too will live to be over 240 years old.
The Lesson
As Molly dances around the store and the toys begin to move, dance and fly, the colours come back, the music builds and builds and the children come running in the front door to see all of the magic, my son sat on the couch, hugging the couch cushion with a huge smile on his face.
I love to see him being so happy that he can hardly contain it. It’s a rarity.
So I decided to see if Cameron got it:
Me: So what did she have to do to make the magic come back?
Cameron: … believe?
Me: Right! … And what did she have to believe in?
Cameron: … magic?
Me: Nope… herself! She had to believe in herself!
Cameron: believe in herself?
Me: Yes, that means that she had to be happy being her. She had to know that she was smart and a good person. She had to know how awesome she is!
Cameron: and that makes the magic?
Me: Exactly. If you believe in yourself, the magic will happen.
While I don’t know just how much of that will stay with him, I know that it will stay with me. And I hope it stays with every parent that watches the movie.
Never stop believing in make believe. Never stop believing in silly, childish, wild and wacky fun. Never stop believing in magic. And most importantly, never stop believing in yourself.
It’s this that I will always remind my boys and will always do my utmost best to remind myself.
Autism or not, if you believe in yourself, the magic will happen.
While many parents feel a great deal of pain in accepting the reality of a birthday party-less life for their autistic child, I have found that there are in fact some parents, a small number, that just don’t seem to get it.
The usual problem
The problem that most autism parents face is isolation… that feeling you get when your child is never invited to birthday parties. The parent feels this through osmosis, meaning, they feel isolated because their child feels isolated. They know that the question is coming one day: “Mom/Dad, how come I never get invited to birthday parties?”
It’s a terrible feeling, and not just because it is saddening, but it’s also maddening. Because deep down, you know the reason. In fact, in a way, you probably don’t even want your child to go to those birthday parties. So loud, so bright, so much excitement, socializing, awkwardness…. yes, for many children with autism, it’s far more a nightmare than a dream and yet… the child doesn’t know that. They just know, or one day will know, that they are missing out on a world of fun.
And so, as a parent, you are left with a twisted up stomach, knowing your child feels alone, knowing your child feels like they’re always left behind, knowing that one day your child will ask you and knowing that one day, you’ll have to answer.
The unusual problem
In my son’s (Cameron) case, we don’t have the usual problem because of the great school that he attends. He is in a “regular school” but they have dedicated 5 classrooms to children with autism, which means that his friends all have autism as well.
So when his friends have a birthday party, he’s invited. Or when he has a birthday party, he has friends to invite. It’s actually pretty awesome in many respects because, not only are they not missing out, but they’re gaining those valuable party skills that they’ll need in college (hey, I can dream, can’t I?).
Here’s the thing… even though the other kids in all of those 5 classes have autism, not all of their parents really “get it”. What I mean is, they don’t realize how lucky they are to have their kids going to birthday parties.
The problem that I face, is whether or not to invite certain other autism children from those classrooms. They’re the ones that easily meltdown, easily get aggressive, have little verbal ability… you have to understand, they’re great kids and I love to see them when I stop in at the school, but it’s obvious that they will need some extra help and attention at a place like a birthday party.
What I expect, and this is probably where I am going wrong, is that their parents would understand this and do something as simple as… stick around. You know, go to the party and be there with their child to help out should a meltdown occur, to say to me “oh, don’t do that because my child doesn’t like that” or “my child can’t eat that”… stuff like that. I don’t mind changing things up on the fly, I’m an autism parent too!
But they don’t do that. They leave.
And to be fair, I’m not talking about the parents who honestly and truly have something they need to do, like work. But the ones who see it as a break…. a chance to be free.
It’s not a chance to be free. It’s a chance to learn valuable socialization skills. It’s a chance to do something that many other children with autism can not. And this parent is taking it for granted. They’re taking advantage of it.
What to do?
So at my son’s next birthday party, I have a choice to make.
Do I invite that child even though I know that things could be… well, let’s just say, more of a struggle?
Should the child miss out because of their parent? Should the child be punished? Or, would it be more of a punishment to actually invite the child to a place that he/she won’t be able to cope with? I mean, if I don’t invite the child, the child stays home with their parents, where they’re comfortable and at ease, right?
I’m not really sure what the right answer is… all I know is that it would be so much easier if the parent just took it more seriously. If the parent would see it for what it is.
To those parents:
Don’t make me have to choose whether or not to invite your child just because you can’t be bothered to stick around.
Birthday parties aren’t the same for you or I, compared to “other parents”. Not for the person throwing the party nor for the parent of the child that is invited.
I’m sorry that it’s not happy, fun, break time for you like it is for other parents. But that doesn’t mean that it can’t be a really great time.
I started out wanting to write about changes that I’ve noticed in Mike, and how this, to me anyway, signaled a positive step forward in his journey with autism. On further reflection though, it reminds me that although he has taken some steps forward, like everyone else, he might very well encounter some obstacles along the way.
Mike is 12 and is entering puberty, and he is noticing the changes in his body. We too have noticed how he is starting to sprout pubic hair and has begun to notice girls. My wife laughed hysterically when, upon discovering said pubic hair, he exclaimed, “I’m turning into a sasquatch!!” In the past six months we have noticed that he has asked more than one ‘girl’ to kiss him, including his married after-school teacher among them. So yes, we are kind of freaking out about puberty.
Perhaps we were unglued because his two older brothers were (comparatively) less demonstrative in noticing the fairer sex upon entering puberty. Or maybe because autism did not give Mike a ‘filter’ that neurotypical children have when expressing themselves; he just says what’s on his mind. As parents of an autistic child, any verbal expression (appropriate or not) is like gold; we just want to keep hearing it. So we have begun weaving social stories about girls and kissing and appropriate behavior. Personally, I hope this works for at least a little while; I don’t think I’m ready to give Mike ‘The Talk’.
Puberty, in and of itself, may have unintended effects on his developing brain and cognitive ability. Research has shown that there is an association between fetal testosterone and autistic traits. To many in the research community, it is not simply a coincidence that a diagnosis of autism is made four times more often in boys than in girls. To this end, I worry about what effect the influx of testosterone during puberty will have on Mike. Could it ‘worsen’ his autistic traits? Could it blunt his cognitive development? Could it make him more aggressive?
These are certainly possibilities that tend to keep us up at night, but are comforted in part by knowing that Mike is learning to be empathetic, and has a degree of self-awareness. Just like noticing the physical changes in his body, he knows when he becomes angry with others, and is apologetic and often embarrassed by it. He readily takes note of babies and younger children who are crying and wants to “make them happy again.” He has initiated greeting our neighbors, and has asked to play with some of the neighborhood kids.
Big change.
Not all of change is bad per se; his verbal and comprehension skills have markedly improved in school and his brief chats with us have slowly progressed to often conversational proportions. His teacher confided that she is thinking of submitting him for consideration for a self-contained class in a General Ed school (otherwise known as a satellite program). Mike has shown he has the capacity to do more academic school work, as opposed to being vocationally-inclined only. With this thrilling possibility brings change, and change always brings the possibility of failure and regression. Mike has thrived and become transformed at his current (out of district) school for the past three years after languishing in-district as the Special Ed department struggled to develop its resources and plans. The thought of returning him to a similar setting is tempering our enthusiasm but reinforces our feeling as parents that our son has more possibilities open to him now. I have quietly begun to think that Mike is inching toward the higher-functioning end of the autism spectrum.
His desire to someday become a paleontologist/chef/zoo keeper/book writer is not so far-fetched after all. Big change indeed.
It seems Mike is poised and ready for bigger and better things, despite all the pitfalls inherent with puberty. My little boy is growing up. I hope his mom and I are ready.
We went to the Friday evening show of The Dinosaur Petting Zoo at the Tilles Center last week. We had to get their early to pick up our tickets for the general admission show; showing up at 4pm for a 5pm show. When other families started arriving, my wife’s first comment was “uh oh, it’s a little kid’s show”. Indeed, the overwhelming majority of children showing up for this puppet show were under 8 years old. Mike, our youngest of three and bona fide paleontologist-in-training, is 12 years old.
As if we didn’t have anything else to worry about with a child with Autism, having a child who literally towers over other children in a public venue is akin to putting a sign on his chest that screams “Look at me! I am different!” As much as parents with Autistic children will attest that they have developed thick skins, we yearn for times when our children blend in, if only for a scant minute or two. We are in fact okay with, and often celebrate our children’s unique traits and abilities, but are achingly aware of the public stigma of Autism.
Mike, as anyone who has ever met him will attest, knows everything there is to know about dinosaurs in general, and T-Rexes in particular. His room could be converted to a Jurassic Park gift shop if we ever needed a second income. His dinosaur-related DVD collection is better than most libraries. He knows how to find dinosaur toys, books, pictures and memorabilia on eBay, Amazon, Google, and lesser known websites. He has re-drawn the pages of a pirate book (“Captain Flinn and The Pirate Dinosaurs”) and replaced the human characters with his dinosaur toy friends (they each have a name, of course) with elaborate detail.
You get the idea.
So we progress through the show, which ends with a volunteer from the audience being asked to the center of the stage. None of the ‘little kids’ want to come up; some take a step forward, but quickly run back to their moms and dads. There are three; perhaps four kids in Mike’s age group in the audience that still hesitate at what might be in store up on stage. Mike has his hand raised patiently, waiting and hoping to be picked. His eyes never waver from the emcee. There is no fear, nor trepidation; no anxiety which often destroys the public outings of many families affected by Autism. For that brief instant, he stood out in ways those other children could only aspire to: he was without fear, and for that, he blended right in with them as they screamed with glee.
As much as dinosaurs (and to a lesser extent, crocodiles and other toothy animals) are a major focus for Mike, he is progressing; becoming more conversational, empathetic, and academic. For this we thank the tireless work of his teachers, and his brothers, and everyone who has connected with him. This outing also taught my wife and me that Mike will continue to teach us things about ourselves, and we can’t wait for more of those lessons.
The reality
