The Teeter-Totter

“Ian, can I come into your room?” James stood outside Ian’s room and patiently waited for an answer.

I smiled when I heard. Social cues are important for any child, but for autistic children, they’re critical and very difficult to learn. Any progress is worth a mental “high five.”  James had learned the hard way that it was better to use language to obtain what he wanted from Ian. Asking permission avoided Ian’s fury at having his refuge invaded and dodged parental correction.

“James, where’s my stick?” Ian ran out of his room with his fists clenched, and I had to head off the physical encounter. James had just demonstrated his use of social skills a few days earlier, and now we were back at square one. He had entered Ian’s room and taken what he wanted.

Ian is no different. Although never a morning person, one day he’ll get ready for school with minimal prompting after a calm breakfast. The next day, he’ll scream at James for looking at him while they eat and every step of the morning routine is a contest of wills.

But, that’s life with children afflicted with Autism Spectrum Disorder, or “in the spectrum” as insiders call it. Progress is never consistent, and lessons are never learned, at least not in the traditional sense. Progress is not tracked in a smooth curve. It’s a seesaw line of joyful successes and heartbreaking setbacks. If the achievements outnumber the reversals for any one goal, we call it an accomplished milestone and work on the next target while we hope they don’t regress on the last.

“Do you want the last cookie?” I held out the plate to Ian.

He looked at the solitary cookie. “No, thanks. I want to save it for Mom.”

Another little success.

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.