An Example of Insensitivty

Yesterday, Adam had a play-date with a non-autistic friend from camp. Adam is enjoying camp. In the morning he watches and waits for the bus, and as it approaches, he jumps happily up and down, “There’s the bus! There’s the bus!” There is a wonderful melodic tone to his speech and the repetition, and I love to make songs out of the things he says and jump around with him.

He has made another best friend, it seems at camp, “M,” – a little three-and-a-half-year- old girl who has motor planning difficulty, making language challenging at the moment. Adam and M sit beside each other during every circle. M won’t go in the pool unless she is with Adam. M began tickling Adam and he giggled and tickled her back until they were entrenched in their own private giggle-fest. She touched Adam’s nose, and he touched hers, she touched his head, and he touched hers. This was the report I received from his counselors.

Adam is in a “regular” camp with a “shadow,” who stands back as Adam becomes independent. Adam needs little assistance now from her and during the school year -- we faded the shadow back to one day a week. It’s just that at camp, the teenage counselors do not know how to teach appropriately to any of the three and four year olds, and I’ve discovered that his shadow’s positive advocacy of Adam and all of his abilities, and meaning of toddler-speak in general, is teaching the counselors how to actually interact with him, and the others, in a positive way. I don’t think I expected Adam to enjoy camp this much. He has formed attachments with one counselor and his swim instructor, and of course, little “M.”

I could have been angry with the camp. Yesterday, the head counselor, also a “teacher,” came out and said that Adam was “crying for most of the day and she didn’t know why.” I felt singled-out and that the look on her face was that he was crying because he was autistc, a sweeping feeling that crossed me, and all the parents stared at me. When Adam’s shadow explained what had happened -- Adam had apparently bitten his tongue and was upset about it -- I marched back up to the “teacher” to say also in front of the lineup of parents, “Did you know that Adam bit his tongue which is why he was crying?” She indicated that she hadn’t been paying attention. “You shouldn’t made a statement that gets me worried without investigating the cause,” I said politely, but firmly.

The mother of “J”, who has the non-autistic child who came to play late yesterday afternoon initiated a discussion that her son “hates camp,” and that that same “teacher” did the same to her in the lineup of parents. The mother also felt stigmatized.

So, it isn’t an argument of prejudice against an autistic person, although I might have interpreted it that way. It was sheer insensitivity and lack of professionalism on the part of that head counselor. I have discovered that she knows little of this age-group of kids, doesn’t know appropriate activities for them, and is so busy being “head” that she doesn’t have time to interact with the kids.

In the meantime, my shadow is in there with a group of teenage counselors teaching them what kids want and need, autistic or not, it sounds much the same to me. Looking at all kids positively, with respect and dignity as little people with reasons and needs seems to be sorely lacking here, and perhaps is the problem with some teachers and institutions in the first place.

Assuming prejudice may be too easy. Accusing people of prejudice may even be deconstructive. We have to look at the context, teach the ignorant (ignorant as unknowing and insensitive), and act positively to achieve the goal of teaching and raising the self-esteem in all children.