A 16-year-old starts his own computer consulting and repair business, Hire the Brain—impressive. Today’s Columbia Tribune tells how Collin Driscoll, who has Asperger Syndrome, started his company with his father and, too, how he’s learned to deal with his sound sensitivity.

Several months ago, [Driscoll's] mother convinced him to take a trip by himself to his aunt’s home in Kansas and to help her trucking company fix its computer system. It was a big step for Collin, but he enjoyed it, and at his aunt’s encouragement decided he wanted to start the business with his father, Steve, an IT programmer who formerly worked for large companies but was forced into semi-retirement after suffering a stroke.

“I’ve gone from being the geek to being his driver,” joked Steve Driscoll, who marvels at his son’s ability with computers.

Go here to the webpage of Hire the Brain, which notes “Why pay for the whole squad when all you need is one good brain?”—why, indeed?

My son Charlie is, as I’ve noted here, 11 1/2 years old. He’s been attending middle school since September and it hasn’t been easy, and we’ve started to get the feeling that it’s not going to get easier. Charlie is in a self-contained classroom, located in a large middle school in our school district. There are three other boys—all older than him by a year or two, and all shorter than him—a teacher, and four aides in the room. He starts the day with Adapted Physical Education (APE) around 8.30am) and has speech therapy briefly with a speech therapist most days of the week. An occupational therapist sets up programs on specific skills, like writing and washing his face, that he works on throughout the day. He has a really good teacher and behavior consultants regularly visit the classroom. Charlie’s teacher and I email each other daily, sometimes a couple of times a day.

He does all right generally, but, for the past few weeks, he seems to be having one “incident” per day, in which he grabs at someone or throws himself down on the ground or tries to hit his head. Sometimes it happens because his classroom gets very noisy and, with his increased sensitivity to sound, he just can’t take it at some moments. Other times—as when he threw himself down on the sidewalk while on a walk outside last week—it’s less clear.

Charlie’s academic progress has always been slow and painstaking. He’s now writing both his first and last names and can write most letters of the alphabet (s seems to be particularly challenging), counting money, doing single-digit arithmetic with a calculator. Unlike the other boys in his class, Charlie is not interested in watching videos on a break (they have a TV set and headphones) and is minimally interested in the computer. It has been good that more of his schedule has allowed him to get up from his desk, to work on life skills like cooking and laundry: Charlie, as his teacher noted, likes to be busy and occupied, and to get up from his desk.

Sometimes it just feels like everything is working against him this year, though. After years of bus drivers who always greeted him with a “good morning, Charlie!” and a “smile,” and who clucked in sympathy when he was upset and assured me that “he’ll be okay, we all have our bad days” the bus driver this year has been, well, she doesn’t do any of those things. Added to this is the fact that Charlie’s bus arrives over an hour earlier than it did last year. He’s always had a hard time waking up, but this year it’s been compounded by a much earlier wake up time, and a less than warm atmosphere on the bus.

And middle school itself has been something of a brusque new world, after the coziness of Charlie’s classroom last year. As I’ve noted, the physical layout of Charlie’s room includes a low ceiling and no natural light. There’s over a thousand children at the middle school and discipline appears to be a priority, judging by administrators wielding walky talkies and the constant emphasis that “you could hear a pin drop in these hallways” when classes are in session. There’s no more playground and the main colors seem to be (as they were at my junior high in California) brown and beige.

I noted that Charlie, while the youngest in his classroom, is the tallest and, I’d also say, the most muscular and athletic (the result of all that swimming and 8-plus mile bike rides). So when he gets upset, other people react a lot differently than if he were 4 feet tall and a skinny little boy: Charlie’s the same height as some of the aides (none of whom were the aides he had last year, including one young man who was over 6 feet tall and could still give Charlie a piggy back ride a year ago). And I more than suspect, I think I know—that when Charlie is upset, people don’t see a frantic child, overcome by his anxieties and racing thoughts and unable to express himself. They see a 5′ 4″ pre-adolescent who’s really strong, and they step back, and want to look away.

Jim and I anticipated that middle school and adolescence would not be easy for Charlie. We’ve been talking a lot, talking to friends, talking to Charlie’s teacher; we’ve been asking questions, thinking, reflecting on how easy it is to go places with Charlie, from stores to subways to restaurants, and how much he helps us out, doing more and more small chores around the house. We’ve wondered if he’s not been feeling a kind of loss for his old school and classroom and teachers. After all, every day he walks onto the yellow schoolbus so dutifully and I wonder what he thinks as it takes him to the middle school, a group of low-slung brownish buildings, surrounded by grass and set back from the road.

Previously when Charlie transitioned from primary school to intermediate school (he’s not really “in a grade,” and has always been in special ed classrooms), it was really tough. He floundered and finally all but fell apart in classrooms in another New Jersey town and, just under three years ago, we took him out of school in November of 2005, things got so bad. We’re not at that point now (or not yet) but Jim and I have been worrying; it’s been hard to find ourselves potentially back at square one with Charlie’s education, after disrupting every aspect of our lives to move into our current school district. I’m hopeful that we can get ourselves, just muddle, through, a difficult period. While, at home, Charlie’s not always been without anxiety (sometimes he just seems to need to sit in his room with his favorite things nearby; he tells me “bye Mom”—-sign of typical teenagerism?), things have been generally peaceful, and he’s clearly a bigger boy who can do, who wants to, and who often has to struggle to “do it right.”

Charlie spent much of the weekend sleeping and some of it coughing: I’ve had a bad cold for the whole past week, and Charlie finally caught it. Saturday night—after napping a lot—he couldn’t sleep till 4am (and was beside himself at one point). Sunday he was much more easy-going, eager to get on his bike, and, while sitting on the couch afterwards, telling me the names of the aide last year who gave him the piggybacks. And then, of one of the aides he has this year.

And saying yes when I asked if he wanted to go to school tomorrow.

Saying “a lot happened” in the past two weeks kind of seems like an understatement.

• The Search for Certainty (or, why we’re going to the dentist at 3.15pm)
  An emergency dentist visit for Charlie prompts me to think about why parents so often try to find medical reasons for why something’s going on.
• David Kirby exonerates thimerosal
  Maybe not exactly but the day may be coming……
• Today Show Today on Autism and Vaccines
  I’m briefly interviewed on a feature about vaccines and Dr. Paul Offit.
• A “Crusade Against Autism”—-To What End?
  Do we really need such a “crusade”? . Michael Fitzpatrick (who’s the parent of an autistic child) writes about how such a “crusade” does more harm than good.
• The Great Now What
  Though parents of just-diagnosed children often feel so confused and uncertain, Early Intervention and preschool services and programs are (here in New Jersey, at least) in place. After that, it always seems to be “the great now what” all over again.
• Positively Autistic on CBC News
  A recent CBC News special feature, Positively Autistic, says that “since the early 90’s, an autistic rights movement has sprung up, challenging the official view of autism and working to change how the world sees autism.”
• If It’s Raining, There’s More Autism?
  Another study from Michael Waldman, who wrote an earlier paper about TV causing autism.
• Pop Pop Redux
  A post about the Mugen Pop Pop Blueberry written on Election Night,
• What does it mean to lose an autism diagnosis?
  Does losing a diagnosis mean that one is “cured” of autism?
• Sensory Differences: Research at IMFAR 2008
  Should sensory processing differences be part of the criteria for autism?
• Robert Kennedy, Jr., and the EPA?
  RFK Jr. is under consideration by President-Elect Barack Obama to head the EPA?—Not good if you care about science.
• “Strange” Play As a Marker for Autism in Infants?
  Unusual use of toys in infancy a clue to later autism, according to a stuy published in the October issue of Autism, the journal of the National Autistic Society.
• Adolescence: Not easy, but no need to end it
  Newt Gingrich argues that we should do away with adolescence.
• New Theory About Autism and Genetics
  A new theory argues that arents’ genes are “in competition.”
• Over-diagnosis? Misdiagnosis? Or Just Better Diagnosis?
  Rod Welford, the education minister of Queensland (Australia), attributes the rise in autism prevalence in his state to parents in search of more services for their children—-not.
• Looks Like the Special Needs Mommy Wars Aren’t Over
  is Sarah Palin a potential leader for working mothers of special needs children?
• The Value of Money (the real stuff)
  Charlie learns to count money in the age of the ATM card.

I’ve a couple of ideas for posts about topics like prenatal genetic testing, vaccines and more about vaccines, gestation and future health problems and the like but since it’s getting later in the evening (out here on the East Coast) I’m just going to reference an article from no less august a body than the Style section of last Sunday’s New York Times and specifically an article on how the economic crisis is affecting teens whose parents have never been able to say, no, you don’t need more Abercrombie. Given the near-constant talk about the “cost” of raising a special needs and specifically an autistic child, I just wanted to note that Charlie’s never been one for having anything that’s “the latest,” whether it’s clothing, electronics, tsotchkes to hang on his backpack, a particular style of sneaker. He’s easy-going about whatever he wears (not that my mom doesn’t make sure he’s well-attired) and honestly asks for little—ok, some Vietnamese spring rolls and a swim in the ocean but the former is good cheap eats and the latter, well, believe it or not, if you know where to go the ocean is still, indeed, free.

And watching Charlie swim in it beats all the razzle-dazzle fireworks of any gizmo peddled at the mall.

Just extremely really tired.

A phrase like this has often come to mind about Charlie in the past few weeks and it’s been used on and off by Charlie’s teacher in her emails home. Thursday he was groggy all day. When he comes home from school he walks straight to the refrigerator, eats a plentiful snack, and then just curls up on his couch chair with some fleece blankets and all but falls asleep. He’s been accommodating himself really well to having to get up much earlier to get on the bus by 7.30am and sometimes earlier. I’ve been trying to get him to go to bed earlier, but 9.30 is pretty much the earliest that Charlie seems able to go to sleep (and maybe I’ve still some very strong memories of when Charlie used to fall asleep at midnight regularly—-9.30 still seems early!).

Charlie’s teacher suggested that he might be in the midst of a growth spurt and just really, physically tired. This sounds very plausible and just today Jim noted that he realized that the day when he sees eye to eye with Charlie may be here sooner rather than later. (Charlie started to look eye to eye with me about three years ago.) Rushing to grab a pair of socks for Charlie as he pulled on his clothes, I found myself digging through his sock box to find a pair that would fit. Am I some negligent mom, or did it seem that almost every pair of socks looked like it might have fit Charlie about two years ago? Fortunately, my mom had sent a couple of pairs of new socks the day before and I slipped an extra pair into the front pocket of Charlie’s bookbag, as it was raining heavily this morning.

Charlie knows now to avoid puddles and this is yet another sign of how he’s growing up, understanding more, and thinking about consequences (if I step in all those puddles, I will have wet shoes and feet for the rest of the day). We’ve also noticed frequent mercurial mood changes in Charlie, who’ll be at ease and smiling one moment and then howling in high-pitched anxiety and distress for a half-hour a moment later. Such sudden mood shifts have occurred on and off throughout Charlie’s life, but they seem to be occurring (much) more frequently of late and, more and more, Jim and I have been saying—when we’ve run through list of other explanations (changes in the weather and the barometric pressure, a portending stomach ache, being tired, someone leaving, not getting a bottle of ketchup at the grocery store……), we’ve been saying, Puberty.

And recalling the not fun-ness of our own adolescences—a word which brings to mind the beige and brown buildings of my junior high in Oakland, California—I feel hardly surprised that Charlie is on and off and often out of sorts and on the edge. I could try to talk about what bothering me; Charlie’s spoken vocabulary does not include such expressions.

And so “the adolescence factor” seems to have become the new reigning phrase in our household to explain tense, tough moments. When I see my gangly-limbed boy (crossing one leg over the other) or Jim gets out the electric shaver, surely those internal, major changes inside of him must be struggling to be expressed, described, just noted?

When Charlie was a toddler, thinking about adolescence just seemed inconceivable. But it’s here for him and for us as his parents and often I feel we’ve begun a new dance, have to get in step and figure out the new steps and rhythms and figure out where he’s leading us. “It’s adolescence”: I suspect I’ll be referring to this for some time now and when I’m done, I suppose I’ll find myself in the teenage-hood.

This past June, a 16-year-old with autism is punched in the face and bullied by a teenager who attends the same high school—-and the whole attack is videotaped and posted on YouTube. The 16-year-old’s family saw the video and was able to identify the attacked. WSBT (South Bend, Indiana) interviewed Joyce Vermillion and Amber Fairchild, the mother and sister of the boy who was attacked:

“First it was bad enough that they did it. Then they videotaped it. Then they made it into a joke. They did it in slow motion and they replayed it frame by frame,” Fairchild said. “It hurts my feelings so bad, it hurts my heart.”

The family says the boy’s face was swollen after the attack, but since then he has been doing well.

The video helped the family identify his attacker, who attends the same high school.

Mishawaka police said the police report was filed Tuesday and officers are on the case.

The telltale video is no longer on YouTube; Fairchild was able to download it.

And you really have to wonder, what were the teenagers who did the bullying it thinking. Or not.

On leaving the YMCA swimming pool yesterday evening (Charlie jumped in fast and then asked to go on the water slides and I skipped up the steps after him; after his first ride, he was so excited that he turned three somersaults in the water and swam half the length of the pool with powerful strokes), we walked past a group of teenagers, one blondish boy and the rest girls. I was watching the SUVs in the parking lot when the boy said,

“Claire, why don’t you date any normal guys?”

I’m not sure who “Claire” is or what, to teenagers in our town, “normal” means. Charlie, noting no cars hurrying by, had stepped off the sidewalk and I quickly followed as the teenagers said snatches of “well” and “she” and “I wouldn’t,” etc..

Go Claire.