Macbeth and Autism…Oh My

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Bottom line is the boy is sixteen years old.

SIXTEEN.

By now you’d think I’d be able to see these things coming.  You would think, after sixteen years, the gobsmacking would not still take me by absolute surprise and leave me speechless.  You would think this would be the case but…NOPE.

I will tell you that as of Monday, when your spectrum kiddo begins to speak of Shakespeare and Macbeth, it becomes something similar to a freeze frame moment where the mom’s brain freezes into a slow motion thing and then it takes a while for everything to really sink in.  It’s been sinking in since Monday…. ever since my sophomore-in-high-school, regular-ed-classes-with-NO-assistance-spectrum-kiddo and I had this conversation on the way to school on Monday….

Me: So what do you have going on today?  Tests? Quizzes? Anything special?

Him: Nothing really that I can think of.

Me: Okay.

Him: Oh wait.  Did I tell you what happened in English?

Me: No.

Him: On Friday my teacher told me I got the highest test on the Macbeth final.

Me: Wow? Really?

Him: Yeah, I got the highest grade in A-L-L of her classes.

I. Kid. You. Not.

And this is where mom goes into that gobsmacking, freeze frame, s-l-o-w motion, speechless, jaw hanging open kind of moment.  And, yes, after sixteen years you’d think I’d be better at this and it would not take me by absolute surprise and leave me gobsmacked but….M-a-c-b-e-t-h and S-h-a-k-e-s-p-e-a-r-e with thee and thy and thou and inferences and hidden meanings all mixed with autism and speech processing delays and a boy who has always held a general dislike of books.   Because we’re still trying to master new English and this is Olde English. And this is the same boy who does not do chapter books with characters and emotions, developing plots and keeping track of events.  This is the boy who only started reading library books in fourth grade when he discovered the scientific reference book section with books about spiders and reptiles.  Did I mention this is the same kiddo who had a “C”in English just a month or so back?  Yeah, same kiddo. So, of course, G-O-B-S-M-A-C-K-E-D, slow motion, freeze frame moment for the mom.

Me: W-O-W buddy.  That’s awesome.

Him: Yeah, but I’m not sure I made an A.

Me: Really?  I bet you made an A.

Him: Maybe everyone else just did bad?

Me: I don’t think so, buddy.  I bet you made an A.

Let that sink in, my friends.

 

ALWAYS.  ASSUME. COMPETENCE .

And, turns out, when I picked him up yesterday he let me know he DID indeed get an A on the Macbeth final.  Turns out the rest of the class did not do bad :). He just happened to do VERY well and when I contacted his teacher she tells me  it was an extremely challenging final that required a high level of recall and analysis and the spectrum kiddo set the grading curve for ALL of her classes.

Yeah, that’s an unexpected and delightful moment. I’m also even more convinced than ever that different is not less.

Sparkle On, Wonder Souls.

 

 

Let it go……

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Once upon a time, when my boy was eight (he’s sixteen now), I was in the middle of trying to arrange an evaluation for my boy and, being the new girl in California that I was and not knowing who to call, I just started dialing numbers to children’s hospitals. I first made contact with a lot of people who answered phones but did not work with children. But on this one fluke of a call, I made contact with a REAL doctor….I know, I know….a doctor answered his own phone! No secretary, no scheduler, no front man/woman. I simply dialed from my kitchen table, the phone rang in his office in the hospital and he did this crazy thing….he picked up his own phone.
 
When he answered his hospital phone, I asked for the doctor by name (and for the life of me, I cannot remember his name) and he said it was him. I asked if he did evaluations. He said that the hospital no longer did developmental evals for autism. I was polite and kind and thanked him for his time and I think he must have sensed my sadness and frustration because he kept talking. This doctor began to share with me his thoughts on how, from all he’d researched, he saw autism was a genetic issue. He said we all have markers for autism.
All. Of. Us.
Yep, you and me and everyone else. He said we all have a few minor markers and we just learn how to compensate for the few markers we have. He said what happens with autism is the genetics of the mom and dad, and all their genetic history combined, will amass a multitude of markers in some kiddos. According to him, what happens to some kiddos is they get more markers than they can process. Where one or two of us might have a few quirks, some kiddos get a lot of quirks and it’s hard for them to process so many quirks.
 
Anyway, I have a hard time explaining it was well as he did but that simple explanation has always made a lot of sense to me. Over the last decade plus when the world at large wanted to point fingers at refrigerator moms or broccoli or vaccines or the flu or induced births or older dads or pain meds during childbirth or the color of the sky, this theory and his words made a whole lot more sense to me. 
It’s genetic.
Sweet parents, hear me when I say this…..autism is NOT your fault. You didn’t do anything to cause your child’s autism. The truth is there should never again be any flashy, headline stealing so-called cures or blame on this spectrum. There are no cures for autism because nothing is broken…not you and not your child. No one is wrong or bad or neglectful, my friends.  Not you or anyone else.
 
You are good parents,
you are great people and
you have a beautiful child who can’t wait to conquer this world…one day at a time with you right by their side acting as their guide and advocate when needed.
 
So, let go of your guilt and the weight of the world that you heap upon your own shoulders, Sparkle moms and dads, and just get on with being the parent and champion your child needs you to be because that is the thing that really matters and will make all the difference on this spectrum journey.
 
Autism is simply genetic.
Sparkle On, my friends.