“Within every living child exists the most precious bud of self-identity. To search this out and foster it with loving care; that is the essence of educating an autistic child.” – Dr. Kiyo Kitahara

With the coming fall means a return to school for 6th Grade. It also means answering this question. Again.

“Mom, why can’t I go back to my old school?”

Biff and I sit in the living room with our books: my pile of histories and strategies for dyslexic learners, and his pile of Guinness Book of World Records. It’s an odd assortment of years: 2000, 1997, 2012, 2003. But they are facts, peculiar facts, and Biff loves his facts.

Except for those that conflict with what he remembers.

How do I explain to him his old school allowed children to repeatedly attack his brother Bash without real consequences? How do I explain teachers considered Biff too smart and well-spoken and therefore in no need of help–ignoring, meanwhile, the incidents of Biff’s emotional spirals and outbursts threatening self-harm?

But that is not what Biff remembers. Biff remembers a very nice 4th grade teacher. Biff remembers 4th grade kids who let him play their games.

And then Mom and Dad changed his schools, and now Biff only remembers that 5th grade kids were loud, the 5th grade teacher did not like messes, and his big sister Blondie wasn’t going to be there anymore because she began 9th grade at the high school.

Biff will start 6th grade with those same loud kids, with another strict teacher, and no sister who at least understood what made him sad or scared because the other kids didn’t seem to understand him at all. Biff remembers seeing Mom cry when the new school also turned down providing extra help for him because he isn’t like his twin Bash, whose emotional outbursts got him required extra aid before Autism was even a possibility.

Biff remembers an easier time at the old school. A happier time.

And so he asks. Again.

~*~

Change is a dark forest.

From a distance, it looks ominous. Spooky, even. But it can also look mysterious, hinting at hidden adventures if one only steps inside. Some of us see the magic flitting among the branches.

Others, like Biff, see only fear and failure just waiting to strike, not unlike a different sort of magical forest…

Autism makes change very, very difficult to face. Whether the change is monumental like a new school year without a big sister, or a small change like a new route home, change often creates panic and anger over being panicked at all. And it doesn’t help when Mom and Dad expect big achievements in spite of the big changes

“What makes a child gifted and talented may not always be good grades in school, but a different way of looking at the world and learning.”  – Chuck Grassley

Change abounds around here, and it is not right to assume those changes won’t create ripple effects. Blondie, so used to work coming easily to her, is already stressing about the academic rigor expected in high school. Bash, already receiving support from the staff, is already stressing about how to re-integrate into a classroom full of athletic boys who care nothing for robots or Shakespeare. And Biff?

Biff goes quiet. He immerses himself with his books and his stuffed animals. When I ask how 6th grade is going, he shrugs and holds a stuffed animal to his face.

I want him to tell me this new year is going okay. That he’s learning to talk to those loud classmates. That he’s learning to get along with the strict teacher while I continue advocating for extra help.

That’s not what I’m hearing.

But I’m not seeing tears, either.

The time will come when my kids will have to venture through that forest of change on their own. Work through the fears, forge new paths of their choosing.

But not yet. For now, I stand alongside them. Hold their hands. Show them that these first steps, scary as they are, will be okay. Because they are never truly alone when others love them. They may not know how to voice their feelings, they may prefer to hold their stuffies close, their own magic strong in calming the storms fear create in a heartbeat.

And that’s okay.

So I give Biff his space for quiet comfort. I give him and his stuffie a hug. When he’s ready, he’ll know how to answer when I ask, “What was one good thing about school today?” Again.

Stay tuned for an author interview next week! I’m excited to connect with my fellow indie authors once again. 🙂

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!