Mr. L sharing with his teacher
My son was diagnosed with autism at a very young age. Early on our little family learned how he could be overstimulated by sound and how hard it was for him to stay in control of his little body when the world around him became too loud. So we soon picked up a pair of sound canceling headphones, helped him learn how to use them and we began to see our happy, little boy again.
When we realized how important those headphones were we bought another pair and another… and another. He wore them out and we always wanted a spare on hand, especially when traveling.
These headphones didn't block out the world, they muffled the extra sounds. They didn't silence the room for Mr. L, they helped him focus on the people and things he wanted to hear.
So when you look at photos of my kiddo, more often than not he is probably wearing a pair, unless he was swimming or playing at the beach. This pair of mixed plastics and metal didn't become a part of his personality, but they were definitely a staple in his life.
Little Mr. L at the beach
But they not only helped him connect with the world, they were also a beacon or a sign to those around him that he has special needs. That he has some form of learning disability or possibly a cognitive delay. It has been both nice and heartbreaking when I have watched him attempt to talk to a stranger and they look confusing by his different way of speaking but then they take him all in, notice the headphones and then offer him a scoop of patience with interacting with him.
A stranger teaching about Trains
Because on the flip side, I've seen him not wear the headphones, and when he has tried to strike up a conversation with someone new, they glance at him and just assume whatever they will and then many blow him off.
The headphones sort of give him a pass to be autistic and most people accept his differences. But when he doesn't wear them, his diagnosis becomes invisible to the naked eye and the world is more judgmental. And it's not fair.
But why do I care? Because over the summer Mr. L has grown, has stretched and has started choosing to leave his headphones at home. So that's a good thing right? He is adjusting, he is outgrowing this crutch, he is adapting, he is starting to look more and more like any other person who can be employable, have friends, be what society has deemed "acceptable" and "fits in". And that's what a parent wants for their kid right?
But what if… What if he is ready to take the headphones off and doesn't mind the background sounds, but doesn't understand that people might be less patient with him? What if the kids at school don't recognize that he has a cognitive delay because he looks typical? What if he leaves his "Hey I have a disability!" Sign at home and the world stops being patient? And starts being cruel? Will he notice? Will he care? Will he know why? What if he takes it personally and thinks it's his fault?
Mr. L and his best friend
I can't hold him back. This morning before school I asked if he wanted to take his sound canceling headphones to middle school with him and he told me no. So I smiled and said ok! Because I'm his mom and it's my job to support him, stretch him, encourage and strengthen him. I can't be here forever and I won't be. He has to grow up.
So instead of fearing the what if's I choose to hope for the can do's instead. Maybe he can fit in, maybe he can navigate conversations, maybe he will recognize when someone isn't responding in kind and he will just move on and not care. Hopefully I have shown him what friendship and kindness looks like and he will search that out and won't mind avoiding those who offer less.
It's my job to encourage him, and then when he takes a leap, it's also my job to stand back, worry, hope and cheer him on.
So here's to less headphones this week and to hope for good people in his life.
New school year. No headphones.
No comments:
Post a Comment