That comment, made in jest, struck at my heart. From outward appearances, Ryan looks like a typical kid. But he has Asperger’s Syndrome, an autism-spectrum disorder.
Ryan, 15, develops narrow interests, often to the exclusion of other activities. He once was so interested in presidents that he knew their order in office.
While others learn to intuit body language and facial expressions, nonverbal communication is like a foreign language to an “Aspie.”
Under normal circumstances, adolescence is a minefield. But it is particularly difficult for kids with high-functioning autism.
They perform well enough intellectually to enroll in mainstream schools, but are different enough socially to not quite fit in. They may have corresponding conditions such as depression or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).
When Ryan was diagnosed at eight, he shrugged off his outsider status at school. Teachers figured out his eccentricities and taught to them.
But by the end of his elementary days, things were changing. Schoolwork was more rigorous, social circles more complex.
After a meeting to plan his transition to middle school, he wailed, “I just want to be normal!” We both cried.
Each school year brings more challenges. Changing classrooms every hour is difficult for someone who is disorganized. Homework gets lost. Integrating cliques is nearly impossible.
But I hate to complain. At the lower end of the autism spectrum are those who are profoundly disabled.
Ryan would take offense at the suggestion that researchers should find a cure for autism.
In April we participated in an autism-awareness walk, supported by generous donors who made pledges on our behalf.
The event at Unity Village was marred by a snowstorm, yet an estimated 2,000 people came anyway. They were evidence of how fervently we believe that more help is needed for the one in 150 children diagnosed with some form of autism.
Perhaps the draw was celebrity walker Jason McElwain, the autistic teen who became a national sensation when he broke his school’s record for points scored in a basketball game. I elbowed forward so we could meet him.
Remarkable as it was for a boy with autism to shoot six 3-pointers in four minutes, what I found most uplifting was the way his peers rallied behind him.
It’s inspiring to see footage of the game, how the bleachers emptied and the crowd poured forth at the final buzzer.
That’s the kind of support I’d like to see for all kids with autism who are attempting to fit into a world that can be indifferent.
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