the foco dad

Today marks the beginning of Autism Acceptance Month. Two things really quick. One, that’s every month in this house. And two, I am not great at always making note of acceptance/awareness days and months, especially if we are already living it.

My message to you on this day is be kind to those that seem slightly to drastically different than you. We have had some sad conversations with our daughter lately, tales of friends telling her they “need their space.” Similar observations have been made by her care team at school, who did a student observation of London prior to our IEP meeting with her in December. They watched her during lunch and observed her walking “to dispose of her food tray and returned to the table, sitting with some physical distance from six peers [read: by herself, my addition]. The peers did not orient toward her, greet her, or engage her in conversation. London fidgeted at the table and got up multiple times.”

When Kate and I reviewed this information with London’s team in December we both starting crying. It’s like having your worst social fears for a child confirmed. I felt as if my heart was on the floor and people were taking turns stomping on it. It was one of the more difficult meetings we have ever had with her teachers and care team at any school, but it was this school’s idea to give her more support. We are so thankful for their suggestion and follow through.

Since then there have been some helpful elements and meetings added to her IEP and I believe those have helped. But the struggle is long and still with us (probably always will be), evidenced by this week’s stories of notes passed back and forth between London and a friend, with the conclusion that London is not considered a friend by this person.

London can talk more than average. She has an inclination to get closer to you than most middle-schoolers would feel comfortable with. She is bursting with ideas and wants to let the world know. I know that can be tough for some, especially for her peers, who are not as accepting as I know they will become. I think London has recognized this from the earliest years, having a strong attraction to adults, preferring to converse with them. No doubt, London learned to recognize friends as those who listen and adults listen so much better than kids, so adults often are her dearest friends. She might not come across as mature for her age, but in this way she has been waiting for years for her peers to catch up to her. I want so badly for her peers to join her at this level and I believe the right ones will, but it is an agonizing wait, the weight of which can just crush my spirit for days on end.

London doesn’t ask for much, but she yearns for friendship like all of us. All autistics do. So this month, and hopefully beyond, when you encounter someone who is wired differently than you, please engage, befriend, converse, smile, invite, hug (but ask first), sit with, and give them the same things you would want in a friend. If you do that, I promise they will enrich you in ways no neurotypical person ever could. We know the truth of that in this house. And I want you to know it too.