A New World

BY KENDRA ROGERS, MS - EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Debts are money or time we owe to another entity. Parents often feel they’re in debt to their children. We owe them love, time, food, shelter, experiences. These things all cost money. “We owe it to them to give them everything” we hear new parents chime as they snuggle their little bundles. Their nurseries decked out with the latest accouterment for baby’s comfort and safety, new parents check on their babies hourly. They go to all the recommended doctor’s appointments, apply for preschool before baby can walk. They want this child to grow up perfectly and have every opportunity money can buy.

But the child turns two and still doesn’t talk. Friends have asked invading questions about this perfect child’s peculiar play. “Does he have autism” they ask, disgusted. “Can you fix him” they query.

“He’s perfect” we reply. “Just quirky”. He doesn’t seem interested in typical play or kids his age. He plays alone or with his brother who knows the rules. He screams when we try to pry him away for lunch. He screams at bedtime because Mom already gave him a nap and shouldn’t be putting him to sleep again. Mom leaves and bedtime is quiet.

Now, he’s four. He can finally communicate well. Other people can understand him. Then, he starts reading. Hyperlexia. Delayed speech coinciding with early reading. Now, he plays with dinosaurs and reads. He still doesn’t interact with other children. He and his brothers play together. They know the rules. They know the story. The others on the playground don’t understand. They leave the game quickly.

We still owe him the world.

How do we give him a world that he doesn’t understand and that doesn’t understand him? We ditch the school idea in favor of homeschool. At five, he can read fifth grade level material and do complicated maths. We know school won’t know what to do with him. He will fall through the cracks. He would hate it anyway. They tell you which subject is next and change routines without notice. Fire drills, active shooter drills. Interruptions in his play. At home, he can be him without the pressure to perform perfunctory tasks at the whim of some educator who doesn’t see his world.

Mom is teacher at home. She gets him. He says they’re connected. She laminates a weekly agenda to update with daily and weekly expectations. He knows what’s coming next. He can prepare. If she changes it, she tells him. She feels she owes him a perfect childhood because his brain works differently, and people don’t understand.

Most new parents dream of colleges and successful careers for their children. We dream of our son living into his 40’s and surpassing the statistics about autism and suicide. We work closely with therapists to give him the tools he needs to succeed. We teach him coping mechanisms and the art of compromise through role play because he doesn’t pick up on social cues and learn through watching others. He has to practice. We owe him these lessons along with his reading, writing, and ‘rithmatic.

We owe him the world too. Changing him is betraying him. We owe him a world where he doesn’t have to fight to be recognized. Where people won’t gasp at his discoveries because he has autism. Where the autism piece of him won’t cause people to stumble and question his reports. Where he has as much value as the scientist with a normal brain. We don’t owe our child food, clothes, and shelter. We owe him a changed world. We owe him and those like him a world that understands them and doesn’t ridicule them. A world where future parents don’t have to struggle and weep at an autism diagnosis because instead of a dark sentence, they can rejoice at the rainbow of light flooding from within their child’s brain. We are indebted to our son the cost of a new world.

We are lucky. We get to raise a son who floods every room with intrigue. Who is this calm boy who sits reading and watching the world? Who is this long-haired cherub who wants an end to world hunger and homelessness? I get to say that’s my son. He’s going to change the world. He already changed me. We owe our children everything, but they are the ones who pay us in changes of heart. They inspire us to be better. To do better. To change.