One of the Gifts

"I'm the slowest kid in my class." Elias says when I ask him to use his spelling word slowest in a sentence.

Nick stops on his way out the door and glances at me. I sit next to Elias at the kitchen table and bite my lower lip.

Elias looks down at the words on his worksheet.

"What do you mean by that Elias?" I feel the familiar pooling of water. "Do you mean slowest walking or running?"

"Walking." Elias says, still staring at his paper.

No angst in his voice. No sorrow. No "whoa is me."

I look at my boy who doesn't look at me. "Are you OK with that?"

Because I'm obviously not fully OK with it yet...

"Yep."

I should have asked, how do you feel about that, but I am the one emoting not my son and I'm pretty sure if I had rephrased my question he would have said, "Good."

He's good.

He has poor balance due to Cerebral Palsy and walks with assistance down the hallways at school, often holding his Aide's hand, as his classmates patiently wait behind him or widen the gap between them as they walk ahead.

But he's OK being the slowest kid in his class.

He's OK!

The other day, Ms Julia told me they had to write why they were unique during a lesson. Elias dictated to her: "Because I'm the only one with canes."

Just like that, matter of fact.

And this, my friends, is one of the gifts of Autism.

Comments

[danielle in zurich]

Whoa. That is intense.
Your writing always gives me such a fresh perspective--sometimes yours, sometimes your son's.
Because sometimes he may be the slowest--but sometimes he's the quickest--the quickest to accept himself.
Which means you, my friend, have done something so right.
Best to all of you,
Danielle

[TC]

I read, but I don't comment except today, to say: Yup. There are gifts from autism. For my sixth-grade son, it's the ability to think that being pulled from his mainstream classroom for two hours of RSP per day and a half hour of speech/hour of psychotherapy/half hour of OT per week makes him SPECIAL and is AWESOME because he gets to spend one-on-one time with all his favorite grown-up ladies. Never, not once, has it occurred to him that this is not a treat. And that, my friend-who-doesn't-know-me, is why I actually love the autism.

[Shelley]

A silver lining, you might say. I think everyone could use a little attitude adjustment like Elias. Wouldn't it be nice if no one cared who was fastest, slowest, smartest, prettiest, etc?

[Christy]

Thank you Danielle. I love his ability to see himself without regret. I don't think I can take credit for that though; I think its part of the autism, the silver lining, as Shelley says, within the "disability." And yes, I wish I didn't compare myself to others, we can all learn from his attitude.

TC, thanks for writing, Elias too loves all his one-on-one time at school. He loves holding Ms. Julia's hand as he walks down the hall even though other 3rd grade boys wouldn't be caught dead holding a woman's hand. And if anyone mocks him, he doesn't notice. A saving grace for me at times when I happen to catch the snickers or looks.

[s.e.]

sometimes the delays and special needs are gifts. And as I used to tell my NT boys when they were young, it would be boring if everybody was the same:)
My learning disabled, developmental delayed (and really not properly diagnosed yet with???) 16 year old daughter still plays with toys and loves her stuffed animals instead of makeup and boys. But although she is supposedly on the autism spectrum as well but she is so not ok with being different/ slow etc. It will be another year likely before she gets off the waiting list for evaluation through the autism team. I'm glad it doesn't bother Elias to be the slowest.