You focus so hard on the little things that the normal, everyday stuff just gets pushed aside. If a normal activity pops up it throws you off guard – at least it did for me. When Matt first started bringing home papers from school that revealed actual accomplishments I was thrilled. I could ask him about his day all I wanted - but he couldn’t tell me. His school time would have been a complete mystery to me if it hadn’t been for the daily notes from his teachers and aids. The first time I pulled out a paper from his book bag with actual writing on it – as primitive as it was - I was stunned. There, on the oversized lined paper, was his name and address! Next were the drawings, then real math problems, and then history questions and answers. I focused so hard on these achievements that I never really thought about him having a “grade”. Before I knew it he was getting report cards with letter grades - and they were good!
Matt had two paraprofessional aids during his school years; Jane and Pat. Jane was first, staying with him from preschool to his first few years at the elementary school. Pat picked him up in 5th grade and stayed with him up to graduation. Both were very gifted and had a true love for children. Both knew I wanted Matt to do his work himself, get grades that really reflected his ability, because I needed to know what he was really capable of. Both wrote me daily messages that included the little things like, “Matt ate his first hamburger today” or “Matt went to the restroom by himself”. These are the things I lived for where Matt was concerned.
A small rural school was just what Matt needed to help him along. The class size was in the 20s and the kids all knew each other – moving up to the next grade with the same cohort year after year. In addition, Matt’s grades brought with it an invitation to join “Odyssey of the Mind”, an academic challenge competition where a team of his peers would have to use there intelligence and imagination to work out problems. Competitions included plays and problems that developed critical thinking skills. It was much more than that for Matt. It developed his social skills, brought him closer to other children, and them closer to him. Even friendships were formed.
There’s a story for each challenge I just mentioned, for each event, but this story is about friendships. The teachers all were newbies when it came to having an autistic child in their room. Each teacher from the previous year would enlighten the next teacher about what Matt’s strengths and weaknesses were, and each teacher was amazed at how well he could do in a regular classroom setting. It wasn’t enough that Matt performed academically. They wanted him to “blend in”. Each found activities that required groups and these provided ways for the other children to bond with Matt and him to them.
Bonding was not a strong point for Matt. It required social interaction and communication skills and these were always his greatest weaknesses. The regular classroom had never had an autistic child and this was all new to everyone. The students got to know Matt a little bit at a time. Pat, wanting to encourage a good relationship between Matt and the other children even used “bribes”. When a child did something nice or said something encouraging to Matt she would give them a new eraser or a brightly colored pencil. She soon found out that these gifts were not needed.
One afternoon was especially enlightening. Matt was having a hard day with schoolwork. Frustrated and annoyed at having to keep at it, he was headed for a meltdown. A young boy named KK offered to help and talked Matt through a difficult spell. They sat together at lunch and Matt’s mood became lighter as they joked around. Pat, having watched KK’s interactions, pulled him aside later in the day and handed him a gift – one of her brightly-colored pencils – as a reward for his behavior. KK, ever the gentleman that he was, declined. He looked at Pat and said quite frankly, “I don’t need a reward, Matt is my friend”.
Pat related this story to me in person when I arrived to pick Matt up from school. As she spoke her eyes were moist as if she might cry, bringing home just how much this simple act from KK had impressed her. We had known KK, his brother and his mom for several years and knew Matt and KK were friends. Matt had spent the night at his house and KK had spent the night at ours. These were both huge events in Matt’s life. KK was Matt’s first friend. Having watched their interactions myself, and knowing Matt and KK were close, I was still quite taken with his bold statement. His actions in front of the other students demonstrated to them how things should be. KK was (and still is) a very likeable young man with many friends. He was one of those kids that other children just gravitate toward. He was the role model for many of his peers and this act of friendship let others know that it just didn’t matter if Matt was different. Matt and KK remained friends all through elementary and high school and on graduation day, KK even made sure Matt was included in his photographs of himself with his best buddies.
In Pat’s telling of the story I realized 2 things; how hard Pat had been working toward enhancing the social interactions within the classroom and how one child can make a life-changing difference in the life of my autistic son. So KK, thank you. Thank you for seeing Matt for who he was (and still is) under the autism, for demonstrating true humanity, and for showing others how not to be afraid of what they don’t understand.
Of course, I know if I thanked him in person he would give me that confused look and tell me, “You don’t need to thank me, Matt’s my friend”.
Yes. Yes, he is. . .
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