ufod:
heres an idea: instead of trying to “fix” autism try to fix the way allistic people react to austic people because saying you want to cure autism and trying to find a way to make sure autistic children arent born is just like saying that you want to cure gay people and thats :///////
They actually did that.
As in, there were studies.
They found that when they tried to improve the social skills of the autistic kids, nothing much happened.
When they improved the social skills of the nonautistic kids (by telling them how to properly interact with autistic people without freaking us out and overloading us), then the autistic kids’ social skills suddenly improved.
Why? Because we were reacting to being treated with respect for the first time ever, by other kids. Because other kids were making room for our sensory sensitivities and our social differences. Because they were making an accessible environment for us, and in an accessible environment, suddenly we thrived socially.
And that says everything about where the social skills problems actually lie.
How about making things that autistic people need more accessible and not cost WAY more money than most people can afford? If people are nonverbal much of the time but, say, have a much easier time typing, how about we just ACCOMMODATE THAT with electronic thingies that talk or whatever works best for that person?
My brother is 15 and autistic. He also has some cognitive impairments. Sam is … I don’t know a good way to say “more autistic than me” (which sounds awful) without resorting to a Functioning label, unfortunately, and I don’t want to do that. (I’m afraid I avoid looking up autism stuff like the plague because it makes me want to set the cure and anti-vaxxer types on fire and I don’t need that added stress.) *considers* Sam consistently has more difficulties than I do, though we’re both on the Autism Spectrum. How’s that? (Seriously, if you can help with terminology, I’d appreciate it. iamshadow21, do you have anything for me that doesn’t sound terrible?)
You know what would be really great for Sam? A service dog. Even though we’ve been working on the “Sam, you have to look both ways before you cross the street. Stop look and listen!” thing for years, Sam just can’t get it down. That’s a serious safety hazard! And I think it’d help him feel less isolated, too. AND it’d help his anxiety and stress levels in loud, crowded public places when he starts to feel overwhelmed. But there’s no way we can pay thousands of dollars for that. AND a lot of service dog programs are focused around little kids with nothing for teens or adults.
Most of the autism programs – at least in our area – stop around age 10. MAYBE a couple go to age 12. But … apparently autistic kids aren’t going to grow up to be autistic teens and autistic young adults? There is quite literally NOTHING for a kid Sam’s age. There isn’t in most places. And I’m not talking about a cure thing, but being able to socialize with other people his age who GET IT.
Sam knows he’s different. He’s a pretty happy kid, but he does know that. He’s lumped into a general special ed class for his first and last hour at school and mainstreamed for the rest with an aide and I HATE IT. I hate it SO MUCH. Half the time they just dick around and show the kids movies. That is not educational in any way whatsoever – it’s not like they talk about the content in any way. They don’t even seem to have anyone trained properly in Special Ed – based on my observations at any rate.
You know what Sam needs to learn that ISN’T stupid movies? Real life skills like practice with money and how much money is worth. (We work on that at home with his allowance for chores, but we can’t do it completely alone.) Telling time – though he’s actually not bad at that and I try to work with him, but I’m not a trained teacher and I can’t quite figure out which part is tripping him up. IN THEORY his actual teachers should be able to help with that.
I threw a hardcore temper tantrum – tears streaming down my cheeks and repeating sentences over and over and rocking A LOT, and screaming over my mom using the telephone – when I found out that in high school they were putting him in the “Vocational Training” class. That’s a polite way of saying “They have the Special Education kids empty the trash and the recycling bins and sometimes work in the cafeteria serving school lunch so they don’t have to pay somebody to do it.” And if Sam is doing that, he should damn well be getting paid. I went to that high school (before I dropped out). I saw the way the other assholes at high school treated those kids!
The ONLY reason that I’m putting up with it at all is that my mom has been sick/injured enough to require a lot more of my attention and doesn’t have the energy to deal with it and *I* can only handle so much – especially since I’m Sam’s sister and not his legal guardian. And Sam likes it, but he’s being taken advantage of horribly and it infuriates me. I want to rip their faces off with my teeth.
Goddamned fucking circle people.*
*Again to quote House: See, skinny, socially-privileged white people get to draw this neat little circle. And everyone inside the circle is “normal”. Anyone outside the circle needs to be beaten, broken and reset so that they can be brought into the circle. Failing that, they should be institutionalized. Or worse – Pitied
If he can tell you, I’d ask him how he categorises his autistic experience and respect that, but basically, disability is not a dirty word. If particular aspects of his autism are disabling, if they affect his life in ways that need accommodation or support, then disability or difficulty are the right words to use. You are both autistic, but your patterns of dis/ability will be different from each other, as they would with any two autistic people, especially if either of you has other diagnoses to factor in. Sam may struggle with things you can manage, and vice versa. Many autistic people object to functioning labels because they imply a line, with ‘severe’ at one end and ‘neurotypical’ at the other and all the bullshit assumptions that go along with that flawed viewpoint, when really, neurodiversity is like a colour wheel scattered with buckshot. Everyone’s skills and difficulties form a different constellation.
knitting in the dark 