An Evening Swim at the Y
December 5, 2008 by Kristina Chew, PhD
Filed under Health
While it’s often frustrating trying to find some time at our YMCA pool for Charlie to swim in—-because, in the late afternoon and evening, the pools are primarily for the use of the numerous swim teams—-on Wednesday night, Charlie and I found ourselves by the “family pool,” with its water slides and 3 1/2 foot pool. He had asked to swim and then gotten his swimsuit on. At the pool, his eyes drifted towards the big pool. It was filled with lines of teenagers swimming up and down and up and down and (as I had done in the car en route to the YMCA), I carefully explained why we would not be able to swim in that pool.
Charlie sat on a bench for a few minutes with his head down, before taking off shoes, socks, blue coat, and blue sweatshirt. At the far end of the pool we saw some of the lifeguards we knew from swimming in the big pool in the summer and fall. One lifeguard—she just got her teaching degree and is still looking for a position—waved and called out that she was doing some sort of water safety training: Another lifeguard (who’s a very conscientious pool manager, and also recognizes Charlie) was holding onto a backboard; after a moment, another dunked himself under.
Feet dangling in the water, Charlie sat a few feet from them and watched, and didn’t move for several minutes. He watched as each lifeguard took turns pretending to be drowning the water and be lifted up, strapped onto the body board, and their head secured. Aside from two boys, the elder a few years younger than Charlie, no one was in the pool and soon Charlie slid in and started splashing and gliding and grinning his way up and down the water.
The elder boy stood still for a moment, eyes on Charlie. He said something, though I couldn’t hear with the noise of the water and the coaches calling out instructions and all the other noise and voices. Charlie kicked his way down to the shallower end and when the other boy, eyes still on Charlie, was closer to the edge, I mentioned “autism.”
“What’s that?”said the boy.
I’ve never done a great job answering this question to children—always seems like I’ve so and too much to say, and too many words come out. I mentioned, and as quickly explained, “neurological.” The boy listened, looked at Charlie, said “ok” and swam off.
Charlie remained relaxed and swam again near the lifeguards, always staying carefully out of their way. The other boy and his brother went up and down on the slides and splashed and swam, often passing close to Charlie and he to them.
“How did he get it?” the boy suddenly asked me. “How do you get autism?”
“He was born with it,” I said.
“Oh,” said the boy, and paused, and swam.
We stayed for about 40 minutes total, and then Charlie climbed the stairs and I picked up the coats and his shoes and we went to the family locker room, to shower and get dressed and head back home, after swimming in good company.
Seems like you said just enough.
I have a hard time explaining it as well to my kids peers. I usually say it’s something they were born with and they have a hard time knowing how to play and talk with other people so they have to take special classes to learn how to do that. They think differently is how I usually end.
I have a hard time explaining it as well; especially when someone catches me repeating a word over and over or popping my knuckles incessantly, or sitting off by myself in a crowded room.
Oh my…it has been waaay too long since I have been able to stop by and read. I must admit that I was elated to see you writing about Charlie though! Will need to make it a habit to stop by more.
I too agree, that explaining it to children is different for me. Sometimes I use sitations the typical child can relate to, and explain it in a way that lets the child know that my children feel that way more often though (example: started at loud noise when you don’t expect it, and our boys are startled at almost everything and rarely expect it.) I also am very clear to explain how we are all so very unique in the way our brains work (again giving an example).
Great to read about Charlie…I will be by more frequently!
~Laura
Those boys learned more about autism in that encounter than in any other more artificial and abstract way.
Telling the truth to kids in as succinct and honest fashion at possible is most effective.
An unintended and effective teaching moment.
Ugh, I hate having to answer that question. I never know exactly what to say.
Especially when your child is engaged in a behavior that an NT kid knows they wouldn’t be allowed to get away with – like taking off clothing, running around in circles or being overly loud in the store. I always feel like, as I’m trying to handle the situation, that these kids are thinking “Yeah, right” when I try to explain why my kid is doing what they’re doing.
Thank you for more suggestions—-my latest tactic (such as it is) is to be fairly minimal—to say a few carefully chosen words rather than any kind of long-winded explanation (esp. to kids; to anyone, really).
great to hear from you Laura—-hope all’s well—-
This is very interesting to me because I have a much easier time talking to children than adults about M and Autism or chromosome disorder. I find that chidlren up until the age of about thirteen seem to be way more understanding and open to learning. Where adults are always thinking things about the cause and asking me questions about how I cared for M as an infant, like was she breast fed or did she eat gluten. Those questions frustrate me because I feel like they come from a place of blame. Children on the other hand are asking from a place of total curiosity. I have found that give the opportunity children will ask some of the most profound questions or comments. I have of course had a few children that were not very kind and behaved more like little rude adults.