scribblechic

The unspoken language of our bodies, innuendo, sarcasm, and play. My twelve-year-old son endeavors to speak the unspoken, stumbling through with fragmented comprehension. This is his greatest challenge as a child on the Autism Spectrum.

Before his diagnosis the tell-tale signs were endearing quirks. His ability to play creatively, independently for long periods of time were perceived as a strength. His interaction among peers was limited and awkward, but his eyes always found ours and his mannerisms were respectful and engaging. As an older child navigating the congested halls of middle school, so many moments of misunderstanding have created a new awareness of invisible handicaps as my son attempts to speak the language of social.

On his birthday my son came home and diligently reported that students on the school bus threw items at him, saying they were presents. I contacted the appropriate school administrator to request they observe the bus video and ensure that my son was treated respectfully. The video footage showed my son caught in the middle of a game of keep away where other students’ belongings were being passed around and inadvertently gifted to my son after he announced to the audience of travelers that it was his birthday.

These moments of contrasting perspective and internalization create an illusion of harm. My son feels victimized, unliked, and curls into defensiveness. Stretching his perspective outside this space and teaching him to see the world around him with neutrality and understanding is an ongoing exercise towards speaking the unspoken.

On this occasion we have the benefit of an administrator that is willing to coach our son using the tools available. A patient individual willing to share the bus video with our son to give him a different view of an experience, a rare opportunity to look at a moment of time; studying the social interactions of his peers. A small step, a large lesson. A singular act of patience and kindness.

Tagged: Motherhood, Musings, Social, Son