The Faces of Friendship

There you are in the grocery store, the face of kindness. My son is walking beside me as I push the cart and you walk quickly to catch up to us. You are shopping with your mom too. You call my son Tate by name and greet him enthusiastically. Tate mumbles a response, barely looking your direction and wanders on ahead. You tell me that you go to school with him and when I thank you for speaking to him so nicely and I try to make an excuse for his lack of interest in you, you say, “Oh I know. That’s just how he is.” You call, “See you at school Monday Tate!” and as you walk away, my heart sings knowing there are peers like you who genuinely like my son for who he is, autism and all.

There you are in the school auditorium, the face of consideration. My son and I are attending his sister’s school play. We find our seats in the school’s auditorium. You come, dragging your mom by the hand, and sit beside Tate. You speak to him and introduce him to your mom. I ask Tate to introduce me to his friend. He says he does not know your name. I cringe inside but smile, hoping you understand. I tell you that Tate has trouble matching faces and names. You tell me you already know that, assure me it’s okay, and you politely introduce yourself and your mother to me. You try your best to engage Tate in conversation and you make a little progress, while your mom and I listen and make a little small talk over the tops of your heads. I am very impressed and thankful my son is learning social skills from peers like you.

I am at the Junior High school, sitting in seventh grade Science class. I've been invited by your teacher to hear Tate give his presentation on the solar system. You are there, so many of you! You are the faces of encouragement. Tate stands in front of you proudly, a big smile on his face. It never occurs to him that you might not be impressed with his modified school work or the presentation his Paraprofessional helped him to put together. Your presentations were much more detailed and they were done independently but you show Tate the same courtesy you showed the peer that presented before him and the one who comes after. My heart melts knowing you respect my son and make him feel like a part of your class regardless of his abilities. I so appreciate you!

There you are in a department store, the face of compassion. I’m out shopping and feel eyes on me. I look over to see you smile and you ask, “Are you Tate’s mom?” I say that I am and you ask me where he is. I tell you he is home. You tell me you eat lunch with Tate sometimes. I tell you how much it means to Tate’s family to know the kids at school are so kind to him. You smile and tell me it is fun to eat lunch with Tate. You add that you have learned more from being Tate’s friend than he has learned from you. I ponder this, as I know Tate is not what most kids would consider “fun” or is he able to do the classwork that the rest of you can do. He is hard to converse with, sometimes seems rude, he does not understand social cues, and he performs below grade level in every subject. But you know that. You know how he struggles to understand friendship yet how much he needs friends. You know how he struggles to process language, especially when it is spoken quickly. You are willing to be the kind of friend a kid with autism needs, a friend who has to give more than they receive, a friend who has to slow down and give Tate time to process before he can respond. And you are okay with that. My heart swells with gratitude.

This evening I need to find the face of understanding. We have come to a music program. Tate is to sing with his classmates. I hoped you would be here at the entrance to the school and I see you walking in right ahead of us. I stop you and ask you if you know where Tate should go to find his group. You tell me you know exactly where to go and you say, “Come on Tate. Follow me.” I call to you as you disappear into the crowd, “Thank you!” I feel blessed and relieved to be a part of this community where I can find these willing faces all around us.

I see you at a school picnic, the faces of acceptance. Tate’s class voted and chose to go fishing at a lake as their end-of-the-year-event. We considered skipping it because Tate is not interested in fishing at all. He does not like to get dirty and I figure he will most likely spend the evening asking us how much longer we have to stay. We decided he should go and as our family pulls up to the lake, several of you approach our van, calling Tate’s name and asking him to hurry and join you. He says, “My friends are here.” He follows you to the gathering and we bring up the rear. My heart smiles at the knowledge that my son has friends. He has friends and he is accepted, autism and all.

As a part of the autism community I often hear of prejudice, intolerance, hate and bullying. We’ve seen very few of those things in my son’s life. Perhaps it is because we have been open about his autism diagnosis since kindergarten. Perhaps it is because we made sure his classmates were educated about autism. Perhaps it is because of the lunch buddy program and the other social coaching programs his peers have participated in with him. Perhaps it is because we live in a small town and a close-knit community. Perhaps we just got lucky and my son has a class of exceptionally caring peers whose parents have taught them about friendship, kindness, consideration, encouragement, respect, compassion, understanding and acceptance. Perhaps it is a combination of all of these things. 

If you liked this post, you might like to read Building Tate's Friendships.

Getting to know Charlotte

Last evening I attended the Newtown Kindness Awards Ceremony in Connecticut. But before I tell you about the evening, I want to rewind here for a bit: I Googled to learn who Charlotte Bacon was on December sixth, when I received an email about Tate’s nomination for the Charlotte Bacon Kindness Awards. I did not learn much about Charlotte’s life when I searched the Internet but I did see stories about her death. However, last night I got a pretty good feel for whom Charlotte really was. I now know she was funny and sweet and often involved in mischief. I know her favorite color was pink. I know she wanted to be a vet some day, she loved dogs, and had a collection of stuffed dogs. I know she was loved by many people and adored by her own dog named, Lily, whom she loved in return. All evening I kept thinking, “She sounds a lot like my Sydney.” They would have been friends had they known each other.

Although I did not know who Charlotte Bacon was, ironically, I could recall the name of the young man who took her life. How wrong is that? The reason I remembered his name is because three years ago the media covered the story for days, plastering his name and face everywhere and alleging the reason he committed the horrible act was because he had autism. Our family is affected by autism and when autism is in the media it gets my attention. How much better would it have been for the media to remain very quiet about the name of the killer and  instead be covering the kindnesses that have happened as a result of that incident? I now know there have been many. You might like to read more about Charlotte and the Newtown Kindness awards here: http://www.newtownkindness.org/who-we-are/meetcharlotte/

Charlotte’s parents would like her to be remembered for her life, not her death. To honor Charlotte’s life and to keep her memory alive they celebrate her birthday every year in an amazing way. They recognize children for their acts of kindness. Tate was nominated for a kindness award with his friends Ethan and Jordan after I wrote a thank you note to those boys and their classmates for their friendship with Tate. That thank you letter was published, and People Magazine did a story on the boys and the lunch buddy program. That article got the attention of a nice lady named Lara who nominated the boys for the award. Although thousands of children were nominated, only around forty were chosen to receive awards.

On stage

Seeing Tate standing on the stage tonight was such a proud moment for me. But, it was not only about the kindness factor. Tate has autism and before the ceremony began Tate was anxious. Tate has a lot of sensory issues and he was aggravated because I had dressed him in a shirt he did not like. He was annoyed because I had made him leave his treasured hoodie and cap at the hotel. He had just found out that his beloved watch was an hour off due to the time change, but he couldn’t decide if he wanted it on Connecticut time or Kansas time. And to top it all off, I could not tell him exactly what to expect or give him a solid timeframe for the evening’s events so he was nervous. Needless to say, Tate was stimming. Tate’s stims (stereotypic behaviors) can cause him to appear pretty odd to people who do not know him or understand autism. He grimaces and stiffens his arms and he talks about movies. For the hour leading up to the ceremony I must have heard several dozen times that the movie “Home” comes out March 27^th in theaters and Tate reviewed with me who does all the main characters’ voices. Then he would rotate something about “Big Hero Six” and its DVD release date into the mix. I had resigned myself to seeing Tate stand on stage and stim. I knew everyone would be understanding. After all, we were in an auditorium with four hundred people who were promoting kindness. But, I still reassured and coached as best I could, hoping he’d be able to pull it off.

Shortly before the ceremony, he decided it was okay to “borrow Connecticut time” for his watch. That helped. We took a walk and got a drink of water. That also helped. Then I asked one of last years winners, Ryan, a very kind young man who we’d just met, to tell Tate exactly what to expect when he went onto the stage. That helped too. And, because we sat in the audience and listened to some great music for thirty minutes before he had to take the stage, Tate was much more relaxed when it was time for him to receive his award. He appeared calm, cool, and collected, and sauntered right out onto that stage like he owned the place. No one would have suspected that ninety minutes before he had been a wreck. And that is one of the reasons I was so proud. The amount of courage it took for Tate to go out on that stage was tremendous compared to most. But then, Tate is used to doing those things that come easy to the rest of us, while fighting all kinds of battles that we cannot see. The feel of a shirt, the insecurity of leaving his cap behind, the noise level, and dealing with people whose expectations are a mystery to him, are all things that make getting through the day so much more challenging to Tate. But he just keeps stepping up, trying to please us, and do the things we ask of him. He only had a limited understanding of what the award last night was about and he would rather have been watching television at the hotel but he did what I required of him and he did it well.

Getting Ready for the ceremony

You might wonder why I thought it was important for Tate to be at the awards ceremony and accept the award on behalf of himself, Ethan and Jordan. Tate did not raise money for a great cause, he did not donate food to the homeless, or do any of the other great things many of the children there had done. Tate is making a difference in other ways. Tate is showing kids with autism and their parents that friendship is not an illusive goal but something that can really happen. Tate has friends in Ethan and Jordan and several other children at his school. It took a lot of hard work to make that happen. The lunch buddy program was one of the key ingredients in creating Tate’s friendships. That can happen in other schools too!

Jordan, Tate, and Ethan

Ethan, Jordan, and others have sacrificed a lot of time and effort to teach Tate social skills and in doing so they had learned some things from Tate as well. The truth is: Ethan and Jordan were nominated for this award and did not want to accept the nomination unless Tate was included. Lara recognized the fact that Tate was not the only benefactor in their relationship and included Tate in the nomination at his friends’ request. I wanted Tate present to accept the award and help spread the message that kids should extend kindness to everyone, including their classmates with disabilities like autism. I wanted Tate present to accept the award and help spread the message that kids with autism can learn social skills, be kind, and make friends in spite of their disability. Ethan and Jordan had worked hard, but when it comes right down to it, so had Tate. Things that come so natural to the other boys are very hard for Tate but he is doing them!

Tate's Medal

I could have let Tate decide whether or not he came to Connecticut to accept the award, and we would have stayed home. After all, it was HIS award. But if I let Tate decide, he would rarely leave the house for anything. He would not have developed the skills he needed to be a friend or have a friend! I have to constantly remove Tate from his comfort zone and his comfort zone just keeps getting bigger and bigger, despite autism's best efforts to limit Tate. If you are a parent of a young child with autism reading, please understand: Keep pushing. Keep advocating. Keep mentoring. Do NOT stop. Do NOT allow your child to choose what is best for him or her. Do not allow autism to decide what is best for your child. This is hard work but the stakes are so high! Take it from an older mom with a boy who has done (and is doing) the hard work, it pays off!

I am very thankful for Charlotte Bacon’s life and her family. I am thankful Charlotte is being remembered in this way. I’m so honored Tate was chosen to receive a kindness award, and I’m determined not to forget Charlotte. Many thanks to the Bacon family for making the world a better place. The impact they are making is extraordinary. They will probably never realize the impact they have had on my life.

This is the article that led to Tate's nomination: A Lesson In Kindness by People Magazine

Sydney, Age Six

Once in a while something triggers an old memory that I had all but forgotten, something I would have blogged about back then if I had been blogging at the time. Tonight a comment from a Facebook friend triggered one of those memories. I will always associate this Facebook friend with this particular event.... It was the last day of first grade for Sydney, which coincided with the closing of our small community’s school. It had been quite a year for everyone involved in the education of Sydney as we all tried to manage her behaviors that come with having Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Sydney’s first grade teacher was extremely talented and had taught much of the year with Sydney wrapped around her legs, literally. Sydney’s teacher and I had asked many times for increased services for Sydney without the results we hoped for. Through no fault of her own Sydney was not able to behave herself. There was no keeping her in her seat. She spent most of her day wandering the room and pestering the other students. There was no amount of discipline and no incentive program that could help Sydney control her impulses at the age of six and she was not yet on a medication that made a real difference.

 

That last day of school there was to be an assembly to hand out awards, recognize students and staff, and say goodbye to our small community school. Emotions were running high and tears were flowing. Patrons were both sad and angry because our school was closing. A large crowd gathered in our small school’s gymnasium. Teachers were seated in chairs at the front of the crowded building, while approximately eighty students from grades one through five were seated on the floor. Parents and community members sat in rows of chairs or stood, and the speeches and awards began. Almost immediately Sydney began to wiggle and I began to sweat. What were they thinking sitting her in the midst of all those children without an adult? Sydney’s wiggles turned to bouncing and swaying back and forth. Next, she was putting her hands on the children close to her and trying to engage them in a regular game of tag as they swatted at her like a gnat that could not be dissuaded. I was sick to my stomach. I could not reach her or get her attention without creating a bigger scene than she was making. The teachers were also unable to get to her easily without moving a lot of students. Then, just when I thought I could not be more embarrassed, Sydney began crawling around, weaving in and out of the children, distracting them and causing them to have to shift and move as she crawled around them and over their laps. The seconds felt like minutes to me and I shifted in my seat unsure of what to do. I was wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. I recall hoping that everyone was remembering that I had six OTHER children that DID know how to sit still and they were not judging my parenting on the behavior of my youngest child. I desperately wished I could whisper to the person sitting next to me, “Remember, Sydney was neglected for the first year of her life and she has many excuses for her behavioral issues. The Smiths are really good people. Pass it on.”

I was hoping that Sydney would eventually crawl over to the edge of that crowd. Maybe an adult would be brave enough to grab her and put her in a headlock until I could get out of the crowded seating where I was confined and take possession of my little angel. But as luck would have it, Sydney wormed her way further and further from me, toward the front of the gym jostling children all along the way. And then she was UNDER the chairs the teachers were sitting in, slipping between the legs of one chair after another, right up front where every eye was focused. If anyone had missed Sydney’s performance amongst the children, they surely were not missing it now. I cannot remember now how many adults tried to coax Sydney out from under their chairs as she squirmed her way down the line. The librarian, Lisa Myers, who had a great relationship with Sydney and genuinely liked her for who she was, lured Sydney out from under the chairs and onto her lap. While I was trying to teleport a message to Lisa that went something like, “Get a vice grip on her or she’ll squirm right out of your arms and escape!” this gentle lady was holding six-year-old Sydney lovingly, cuddling her, whispering softly to her, rubbing her back, smiling down at her with genuine affection, and keeping her calm and quiet. When that assembly was over I couldn’t get to Lisa fast enough. I thanked her and I have thanked her again since that day. Lisa did not just rescue the children that Sydney was distracting that day. She did not just help the adults to refocus on the speaker instead of focusing on the chaos my little girl was causing. Lisa showed me an example that I will never forget. She picked up a child that many of the adults in the room (myself included) probably wanted to take out and paddle. And instead of frowning at her, sternly talking to her, or telling her how disappointed she was in her behavior, Lisa lavished Sydney with affection and smiles.

There are two morals to this story…

The first being: The adults in Sydney’s life have often expected more of her than she can give. That day we sat her in the middle of a crowd of children, without an adult to directly supervise, or medication, and expected her to behave like her peers. When Sydney was unable to behave as her peers, I became embarrassed and I was ready to punish her, or at the very least lecture her. Sydney was doing the best that Sydney could do that day. Lisa recognized that. I love the quote by Albert Einstein, “If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

And the second: Lisa did not know how deeply her kindness toward Sydney would touch me. We can be sure we have influence on the people around us. Whether it is good influence or bad influence is for each of us to determine. When we leave our homes each day we do not know what kind of lesson we might teach someone. You never know who is watching and what impact your example will have on them. The ripples in the water sometimes go far. It takes only minutes to create a great long-lasting memory. It also only takes a minute to wreck someone's whole day or worse. 

So there you have it. The old memory was triggered yesterday when Lisa told me that my kids reflect my hard work on their behalf and that I am a great mom. What she did not know is this: Once in a while when I am ready to throw my hands up in the air, jump up and down, and holler at my little ADHD princess, I think of Lisa and how gentle she was with Sydney that day and instead of the jumping and hollering I am able to pick her up and hug her instead.

For more about Sydney, read Teaching Sydney (Or Trying To)

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Kindness and Mistletoe

I recently entered a short essay in The Mighty’s thankfulness challenge. It received a whole lot more attention than I ever dreamed it would when a representative of People Magazine saw the story and called. My essay described some children who have been exceptionally kind to my son Tate and I thanked them in a public way. Tate has autism and it is hard for him to make friends for several reasons, one being that he just does not understand how relationships work. Tate does not understand social reciprocity but he is making some great gains due to constant and consistent teaching from home and school. A lot of that teaching has come from his peers. They are teaching him about friendship and kindness. I wanted to spotlight those kids for their kindness to Tate. 

Kindness. Most of us know what it is even at a young age. It does not have to be defined in words but it is taught by example. Kindness does not just come naturally to small children. There are always exceptions to the rule, but most children are a reflection of their upbringing. In my experience, usually, the kindest kids have the kindest parents. 

Tate has been blessed with many kind classmates and a few of them have even taken a special interest in him. They eat lunch with him. They go out of their way to speak to him and consider him a real friend. If I had to describe these kids in one word I would probably pick the word, “kind.” So, today when I got a message from a representative of "Newton Kindness" saying two of Tate’s lunch buddies were nominated for a kindness award they offer each year, I was thrilled! But as I read on I saw that this representative also wanted to nominate Tate, and that left me slightly confused. Tate has been the recipient of his peers’ kindness but had he ever really shown kindness to them? He has autism, after all. I thought about it for a few moments. Tate is a good kid. He does not make any trouble. He is quiet. He is not demanding or mean spirited. But, would I use the word “kind” to describe Tate? It only took me a minute or so of pondering and I realized that I had given the word kindness a very small definition. Because Tate cannot DO so many things that the rest of us can he does not always show kindness the same way the rest of us do. Tate cannot show kindness by being a peer model for a classmate who is lacking in social skills but he is a very kind young man. He demonstrates it every day. He gives without expecting anything in return. He forgives easily when he has been wronged and it takes a whole lot to make him angry. His lunch buddies have described him as kind and a good friend who likes everyone. 

It has taken Tate a lot of hard work to get where he is. If you can liken learning social skills to learning to swim, think about taking those swimming lessons in a calm, heated, indoor pool with instructors and floaties. Then think about taking those swimming lessons in a muddy, cold river with a strong current and an instructor that is speaking a different language than you do. It would take so much longer to learn to swim if you did not have all the supports and you did not understand the instruction. When a child with autism is put into social situations they must feel like they are in that muddy river trying to learn to swim against that current. I've been on the sidelines shouting encouragement but I must have blinked and missed the part where Tate learned to "swim." His biggest encourager sometimes does not see the little milestones. 

After my light bulb moment I was a bit aggravated that I had even needed a minute to ponder whether or not Tate could be described as kind, because just yesterday he had shown me just what kindness really looks like. I took Tate Christmas shopping at his insistence. He had less than twenty dollars, earned one dollar at a time by doing one of the only jobs he has mastered, unloading the dishwasher. He was on a mission! He wanted to buy mistletoe and a gift for his brother Levi. As we shopped and talked, he added to his list. He wanted to find something for his three sisters as well. Have you ever tried to shop for four people with twenty dollars?  We got everything he wanted except the mistletoe. I have no idea where to find mistletoe. I quizzed him about why the mistletoe was so important. He finally revealed to me that the mistletoe was going to be his gift to his dad and I. Tate planned to put it up so we could kiss under “the mistletoe.” I was so touched and tickled at the same time. It took him over two weeks of emptying that dishwasher (which is not a preferred activity) to earn enough money for those gifts and he never batted an eye about spending it on others.

Note: I know that the mistletoe has got to be one of Tate's newest movie related interests. He has been watching lots of Christmas movies and has a sudden interest in little details like silver bells and mistletoe. Anyone know where to find mistletoe in the middle of Kansas?

To see the People magazine interview, go here: A Lesson In Kindness

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