6 minute read
NEAT LITTLE BOXES
BY KENDRA ROGERS, MS - EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
AUTISM IS DEFINED as a developmental disorder characterized by social difficulties and delays. Some major personality markers include resistance to eye contact, trouble with small talk, unusual fixation on specific objects, and a need for sameness. People with autism are often seen as withdrawn and absorbed in their own worlds. A major tenant of autism advocates is the push to join those with autism in their worlds rather than force them into ours. We are resistant to this idea, though, because it forces us to engage in challenging our own senses of belonging.
As a teen and young adult, I worked with children as a photographer and teacher. I encountered many children with autism diagnoses. At that time, I knew little about how to interact with them in a meaningful way. I listened to parents and did the best I could. Now, I have my own child with autism, Will, and a husband with autism. I also work with others at a therapeutic horseback riding facility where we serve every need imaginable. Through these life experiences, I have learned that those we place in neat little boxes named by their diagnoses are so much more than we acknowledge.
Autism looks removed, but is passionate and involved. Will has a solid understanding of his own emotions and needs. He is passionate about fossils and furthering the studies of Earth’s age. He thinks deeply about his own life and those in the multitude of books he reads. While he does crave sameness and predictability, he understands the change of time. He feels profoundly about all life on Earth. Will isn’t distant. He is more connected than any of the rest of us because of his diagnosis. I initially resisted diagnosis because of the neat little boxes. But, understanding came from the label. Identification drove my research direction. I learned more about how to communicate with Will and others. I have a deeper understanding of how different brains function. At first, I grieved Will’s differences. I felt I had lost that perfection all parents hope for in their children. I still do mourn the loss of normalcy, but I embrace the reality of this new perfection.
Society thinks of cognitive and physical differences as disabilities or handicaps. We need to flip the script and begin celebrating the differences. Those with Down syndrome are beautiful and funny and loving. Those with autism are deep thinkers who communicate differently. Those in wheel chairs have stories to tell and courage to offer. Looking, thinking, and acting outside the norm should be celebrated, not disdained.
In Japan, if a dish is broken, it is filled with gold glue in the art of kitsurugi. The new wholeness is more treasured than prior to the break. They celebrate the new life of the object while honoring it’s history. We can do the same with people. Instead of trying to cover up their differences, we highlight their contributions to society.
Will wants to be a paleontologist and study fossils, their formation, origin, and age. He wants to change the face of how we access information about the world’s history. His goals are valuable. We, as a society, can help him reach him goals by creating a society in which he can thrive. We can encourage opportunities for him, and those like him, to study where and how they feel safe. We can allow them to create schedules and routines that work for them rather than trying to fit them in our neat little boxes.
When we allow the mold to break, we realize great works like Pokémon by Satoshi Tajiri and our favorite fairy tales by Hans Christian Anderson. These, and many more great works of art, poetry, and science are only possible because of minds that work differently. Nikola Tesla probably wouldn’t have made such great strides in the engineering field if his brain worked in a box.
We easily celebrate these great discoveries and works, but are shocked when we discover the people behind them have what we refer to as a disability. We can’t believe a person who struggles with interpersonal relationships would be able to create such works as The Shining or The Nightmare Before Christmas. We put them in little boxes and tell them they don’t need to be great. They can just enjoy their lives. But if we encourage their minds to create the beautiful things they imagine and conceptualize; we can find ourselves in the presence of greatness. When we shift our thinking and attitudes to see different abilities rather than disabilities, we can see people because of their differences not in spite of them. When I adjusted my reactions to my infants screaming in the night, I was better able to address their needs and return them and myself to bed. I had to calm my own thinking and remember they are helpless and need my calm to find their calm. When we help create calm environments and expectations for our children, their brains can function optimally. This goes doubly so for people whose brains are already struggling against societal demands. When we can allow them calm spaces that make sense to them, they can fulfill their gifts.
When Will is in his environment that feeds him, he is able to thrive and learn far more than most expect. He is hyper focused and productive. When I listen to his needs, he is free to be and do as his brain dictates. He is also able to conform to the family’s needs when he has had his own needs adequately met. I see this phenomenon in the people we serve at the riding facility. When our special needs volunteers and riders engage in the routines they love and with the horses, they are prepared to do the less desired chores. When we allow the five-minute breaks for their bodies and brains, we gain productivity.
When we give freedom within boundaries, we gain participation. When we get creative with our own listening, we reach those who seem unreachable.
When we sit and listen, we are invited into their incredible worlds. Joining their worlds just once will demonstrate a magic you didn’t know was possible. They don’t need our neat little boxes. We need to embrace their neat to them little boxes.
