Thursday, July 1, 2010

Behind the Looking Glass

From the observation room and behind a two-way mirror, we parents huddle together.  Splitting our focus between our children and on each other, we discuss what we're observing and we share concerns, tips and ideas.  In some ways, our worlds are as different as our children are and in others we all are in the same boat.  Our backgrounds are different, we come from different areas of the city - some quite far away since this is the closest social skills class to those cities outlying the Salt Lake City area.  Undoubtedly our religions, political views and life histories are different but all of us have the benefit of being able to afford a $300 class that meets once a week for an hour and a half for 7 weeks.  Despite the reason why we are all here, we are privileged that the social skills class is even an option for us.

Children on the autism spectrum have difficulty with social skills.  Prior to my son's diagnosis, I would reassure myself that my son wasn't autistic by thinking how "social" he seemed to me.  He loved to talk.  He made eye contact, I thought.  He seemed to understand emotions as far as I could tell.  It wasn't until I began to really understand autism that I realized how my son differed in his interaction with others.  For one, he couldn't seem to connect with his peers.  Being the arrogant parent we all can be, I put it off as his being smarter than his peers and that they couldn't understand him.  When he had asked a young girl at the library (when he was less than 2 years old) what her favorite letter was and she didn't respond, I laughed because most 2 year olds wouldn't have an answer to that and so, of course, she gave him a blank stare and walked off.  Little did I know that this was an early sign of autism:  the somewhat random, odd question about a special interest.  Of course, it's more complex than that but that's my simple explanation of it tonight.

As time went on and my eyes began to open, I realized that my son just doesn't have the innate understanding of social interaction.  Although he loves others very strongly and in a way that my NT child doesn't seem to, my autistic son is very self-involved and self-focused and his conversation reflects that.  As far as he is concerned, his interests are interesting to everyone and everyone wants to hear everything he thinks.  Of course, we enjoy hearing what he has to say (except when we've heard it a billion times, of course), but random strangers like the man fixing the sprinkler system or the mail man could really care less about all the seemingly fascinating details about his Geotrax trains, for example.

I have barely touched on my son's social skill deficits (which seems wrong to say since he is absolutely darling and adults think he's adorable), but this topic is too complex to discuss in one post.  Suffice it to say that we felt that our son would benefit from a social skills class.  Seeing my child (without his knowledge) interact with other children with high functioning autism has been eye opening in some ways and predictable in others.  We parents sitting and observing each know our children so well because we have to.  When any of us see a potential trigger for unpleasant behavior for our child, we immediately take notice to see how our child will react.  Sometimes, we're pleasantly surprised.  Obviously, there are times when we're not. 

During the last class, my son acted out more than he has thus far in the summer session.  I saw it coming.  The teacher had brought out a timer for them to complete a task.  I knew this was a double whammy for my son.  One, he hates to be timed at anything and my only guess is that this is because he is so terrified of not being able to complete the task in time.  Two, he hates the sound of any timer.  We are a timer-less household.  So, when the teacher announced what they were doing and held up the timer for them to see, I made my prediction and we all tensely watched my son stiffen.  As his turn approached, he became visibly more anxious and then he sprung.  He began to race around the room, yelling that he would NOT do the task with the alarm.  He went to the other side of the room and sat down while continuing to protest.  One sweet parent near me kept saying, "This makes me so sad!"  Her son doesn't have the sensory issues my son has so this was new to her but was unfortunately so routine to me that, although I know it's sad, it happens so much that it doesn't affect me the same way.  I can't afford to let it get to me.

Thankfully, the teachers figured out what was happening and made the necessary accommodations for him.  Unfortunately, the incident rattled him so much that he had a difficult time for the rest of the session.  At one point, I had to go in the class with him because he had a full blown, kicking and yelling tantrum.  He settled down soon enough though and acted like the class was great by the time we left.  Go figure.

Although we have only gone to this class for a few times, I wonder how much it will help him.  With many therapies for autism, the paybacks are often slow and subtle.  It may take many semesters of these classes for us to see real progress.  Meanwhile, we will shell out the cash and hope that he begins to learn the rules that are not innate to him.  As one therapist put it, we're building on his bank of experiences that he can pull on when he's in new social experiences.  With more and more controlled and guided social experiences in a safe environment, he may be able to learn how to interact with others in a more neurotypically acceptable way.  Until then, I expect to spend many hours behind the two-way window while hoping he'll surprise me with his new social skills.

1 comment:

  1. Heather,

    I am sure everything is a process. There is a certain amount of trust, I think, built into everything you do to help him. The classes, the therapy and your own reading, I believe, will foster the best environment for him.

    I am always so impressed with your words and how you can articulate what you are observing about him. I know it must be hard, but I am proud of you for writing it down.

    ReplyDelete

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