The One Thing I Want in Life for My Autistic Son

My son has lots of difficulties in life. He can not talk, he can not read, he can not write. He struggles to join in anything others are doing, preferring instead to flap at lift doors opening and closing or turning hand dryers on and off repeatedly. There is a long list of things I would love him to be able to do including communicate his needs, be more independent, understand what people are saying to him or even use cutlery.

Yet two days ago a photograph sent home in his school bag made me suddenly realise that all I really want for my son is one thing: to be included.

My son attends a school for children with severe and complex needs. Many of his ‘friends’ are wheelchair users, or non verbal or perhaps require to be fed differently via a tube. Some have behaviour challenges and others have genetic conditions or learning delays, but they all have unique and wonderful personalities. The small class sizes and increased staffing are necessary for all of the children, most, if not all, of whom will require support all of their lives.

However his school building is modern and custom built. One of the most remarkable things about the building is that it is shared with another school. This is a new and innovative idea where I live but one that seems to have huge benefits not just for complex needs schools and mainstreams but for schools of different faiths too. The building announces proudly to the community that we are all one and we are all the same even if we appear to others as different.

I have to be honest and say I would rather my son did not have some of the physical and cognitive challenges he faces daily. I wish he could speak, I wish he could read and write not because it would make me feel proud as a parent, but more so because it would benefit him so much. I wish he could attend mainstream school like his sister does because he would be known in the community and have friends locally he could play with, not because I have any issues at all with the challenges he faces. He is loved immensely for who he is but it would be beautiful if he was with his peers much more rather than separated and educated so far from home.

So getting the photograph sent home with him spoke so much to me. The photograph shows my son with children from a mainstream school playing a game. He is being supported not by specialist trained teachers or support staff but by another child. He is being included.

That is what I want above anything else for my son. I want him included as equal in society.

I don’t want him pitied.

I don’t want him ignored.

I don’t want him excluded.

I don’t want him mocked.

He has had enough of those things already.

Yes there are things my child can’t do, but there are things every one of us can’t do either!

The children in the photograph had no need to know the list of diagnosis my son has. They didn’t need training in the latest model of therapy for those with autism or have to have hours of training in physical therapy. They didn’t see a child who can not speak or who is unable to read. They saw a child called Isaac and did what they could to have him join in to the best of his ability.

See my child. See him for who he is and not all the things he can not do. See him as a child who is worthy just as every other child is. See him as a peer.

Please let this photograph help change society. Please let this be the generation who sees people as equal.

Please give me hope that the one thing I want for my autistic son may actually happen one day.

Maybe you can’t include MY son but you won’t have to look far for a child who may also have autism, or a genetic condition or who struggles. Send them that party invite. Encourage them to join in the game. Offer to push them on the swing at the park.

Every act of inclusion is an act of love. I promise you it is worth it. I promise you everyone will gain from this.

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The day my five year old changed her class without saying a word

imageLike every mum I was terrified when my baby started full time school. Even as I dressed her in her shirt and tie I wondered yet again if mainstream was going to be the right place for her.

I had more reason than most to worry as she left that day still unable to dress herself and not yet potty trained, diagnosed with autism and selective mutism, and despite having had an extra year at nursery already, she was still one of the smallest children.

On top of all that she carries a heavy burden wherever she goes even at the tender age of five.

I often wonder if professionals realise the daily weight that siblings carry on their shoulders every day?

As well as her own diagnosis my beautiful blue eyed girl is the twin sister of a boy with even more complex needs. He has tumours, severe autism, challenging behaviour, global delay and is non verbal. She has to live with that at the fragile age of five.

How would she manage without him as his school placement was 14 miles away from hers? How would anyone know to meet her personal needs if she was unable to talk? Would her anxiety, vulnerability and tiny size make her an easy target for bullies? Would her home life stress cause issues with her learning?

I worried. And wondered.

But something changed that first week she started school. And one day her classroom assistant told me that my special, fragile, silent girl had actually changed that whole class of new starts without even saying a word.

It turns out there were two other children in her class who were also silent, but for a very different reason: they were unable to speak English. For ease of teaching my daughter was sat next to these children so the one assistant could help them all. But none of the teachers spoke Russian and everyone was still trying to work out the best way to help this group of children who due to inclusion had all been placed in the same mainstream class.

The teacher taught a lesson and the children sat on the floor. My baby girl sat and listened intently and returned to her seat. The class had been asked to draw a picture and write their names at the top of the sheet. As all the eager children started to pick up pencils and pens Naomi just sat there. She watched as the classroom assistant struggled to help the two others who had no understanding of what had been asked of them.

As another child momentarily distracted the assistant Naomi got up from her seat and walked over to the two children. She took the water holder from the middle of the desk and pulled it beside them. And silently she took each child by the hand and pointed to their own name and then pointed to the top of their paper. She then picked up a crayon and began to mark their paper every so slightly and pointed to what the others were doing.

She waited while they took in her attempts to communicate without language and slowly they began to copy down their name and begin drawing. She looked at them and smiled. And only then did she return to her own chair to try and write her own name.

The classroom assistant cried. The teacher watched.

The most unlikely child in the class had taught them all a lesson that day. The child diagnosed with a communication disorder actually showed them all how to communicate.

She still does not know one word of Russian. But living with a non verbal brother with complex needs taught her something that changed her entire class of children without her saying a word: it doesn’t need words to help people.

I still worry. But I know that in all she lives with she is somehow managing to turn ashes to beauty. And I could not be more proud of her.

This article was originally published on firefly and can be seen here: http://www.fireflyfriends.com/special-needs-blog/specific/raising-kids-with-special-needs-without-saying-a-word

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