How soon do people notice there’s “something different”?
August 14, 2007 by Kristina Chew, PhD
Filed under Health
It does not take too long anymore for people to note that there’s “something”—-”something different”—-about Charlie. If you saw him in a grocery store last night, for instance, you would have seen a dark-haired dark-eyed boy race-walking back and forth by the check-out line, and warbling wordlesly (but with what Jim and I later realized was the melody of John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme).
“My hairdresser has a child with autism,” said the man in front of us in line. I mentioned an autism school I had read about in the newspaper yesterday; he started talking about “detoxfication” and “all kinds of specialists” and I said “ah yes, chelation.”
Charlie’s deportment was the same in a large surf and beach clothing store the other night. He walked, humming, by two boys and they started grinning and sniggering.
I smiled quietly. “He has autism. Special needs. I smiled again and followed Charlie.
And, at a playground last night, Charlie poked at the Mexican food he had asked for and went off to the swings. He sat idly for a while—he has yet to learn how to pump his legs to get the swing moving on his own—then turned around and set his midsection across the swing, and went back and forth, smiling. I stood by; a mother with a baby girl strapped in front of her and a scarf covering her hair was in the next swing. “It’s so beautiful,” she said of the sunset over the bay behind us. “Oh yes,” I said. After a few minutes, she asked me where we were from and identified herself as being from Atlanta: “And we go back in a day and a half. It’s so hard to leave!” she sighed, through a smile.
“We love it here,” I said. Charlie sung and swang, a bit louder. Autism came into the conversation and the other mother—she had three young boys, too—-said that she was a speech therapist. I told her about how Charlie started to talk using sign language; she noted how much she likes to work with kids like him. Charlie got up and ran for the slide and the baby started to fuss; her mother took her out and put her over her shoulder and bounced her lightly as she walked slowly to a bench where a tall man was sitting.
Charlie ran back towards the car, saying “ice cream!” The mother mother was still seated on the bench and I called over “Have a safe trip back!”, and, in the almost dark, I could just see her nodding “you too.”
My kid’s main impairment is the language delay, so the only way people can notice he’s different is if they try to talk to him and he doesn’t respond, or doesn’t respond appropriately. Even then, he can pass for a typical kid that is just shy or quirky (because of his tendency to recite scripts/quotes). A few months ago I took him to a party for autism families and many parents told me they thought he was NT.
I think that’s because he’s not yet 4 years old, and the sophistication of interaction/speech expected from a child his age is not compared to what people want to see in an older child. So I think he’ll start to stand out more once he gets older. But then again, maybe he might catch up on the language department in a few years, who knows.
So far I see a lot of acceptance amongst family and friends, they do not treat my son any different from the other kids, and they never look for things that may be “wrong” with him. If anything, they express awe at my son’s strengths – spelling, writing and drawing.
It doesn’t take long. When I’m talking to someone and holding Patrick’s hand he likes to circle me slowly making sure as much of his body touches mine as he moves around.
I have to tell him when someone’s talking to him. Otherwise he just doesn’t register that person. If you do get to the conversation level with him he can hold his own, but his speech patterns definately give something away. He’s also just learned to identify between the sexes, so he’ll tell you if you’re a boy or a girl.
Other times, his difference is noticable because he’s such a happy, loving child. He glows in a way I don’t see in many NT children and I find adults and children alike are drawn to him (much to his chagrin sometimes…but not always).
Whether wrong or not, I CHOOSE not to notice. I’ll put on blinders on when out with Liv. I rarely go out with both Liv and Grace, simply for the logistical problem of not having enough hands, not because I worry about looks. I suppose I am missing out on sympathy or empathy from others, but when we are together, it is just me and her and the world is nothing more than an object for her amusement…
Charlie attracts attention all the time, even if he’s just standing beside me and not saying anything. Even on the NYC subway, which certainly has its share of characters, one might say.
When I was little I remember people asking my mom “What’s wrong with her?” a lot. I don’t know what prompted it usually.
As I got older I think I didn’t look quite as different from the expectations, but I stood out enough to be picked on and considered eccentric, annoying, and crazy.
And as I got even older I stood out more again and by now very few people don’t notice I’m different.
My boy is just shy of six years old and non-verbal. I think he’s pretty much arrived at an age when, if a stranger attempts to engage him in a conversation, his lack of a response is a good give-away. He has very few “behaviors”. He will vocalize something to himself, some movie quote de-jour or song that’s been cranking around in his brain, or sometimes will have sudden, jerky movements, but nothing that I would call alarming, and no “tell-tale” signs like hand-flapping or toe-walking, etc.
Generally if someone is being a little jerky, pestering my kid, getting in his face, I’ll say something brusque-ish like, “he’s not going to talk to you” and leave it at that, and if they’re being a little more kindly, I may mention that he is autistic. Generally, though, it probably doesn’t come up unless they attempt to talk to my son.