Autism and Confetti

CONFETTI BOY
According to the National Research Council, (although I had difficulty finding the chapter since Tommy shredded the Table of Contents as well as the first 6 pages a few months back), "Problem behaviors of children with autistic spectrum disorders are among the most challenging and stressful issues faced by schools and parents in their efforts to provide appropriate educational programs. Property destruction, physical aggression, self-injury, and tantrums are major barriers..." (NRC, p.115)Particularly among kids with a diagnosis of regular autism (as opposed to PDD-NOS or Aspergers), repetitive behaviors are incredibly difficult to remediate. Studies done in the 70's demonstrated that even when shocked (Lovaas), the behaviors did not decrease.

Paper shredding is HUGE in this population. Google it: "Autism and Paper Shredding". It's everywhere. I think it's not just calming but also visually stimulating, as so many kids with autism like to see "particles" or "grains" of things like sifting sand, rain drops, bubbles in Tommy's case sifting them in front of his right eye, and sometimes landing in his hair. Lately I feel like our family, home, vehicles and even clothing are tiny mobile confetti dispensers. It's been two years of paper shredding. I shouldn't complain since my buddy with autistic twins is looking at 6 years. Tommy started with leaves. He shredded them for a year. We became experts at which leaves smell the best and worst after shredding. We considered a potpourri business. We screeched to establish which leaves can and cannot be shredded. When we went through the car wash, the tattooed worker there would wink and give me a thumbs up when he saw the large tray covered with shredded green matter. "It's not pot," I wanted to scream, "Do you see any seeds and stems here for crying out LOUD?"

 Those now seem like the clean, organic days since "Paper" has entered the picture. We now have leaves, paper, and plastic shredded. A mult-media seemingly endless party of mixed matter that brings Tommy great joy. Mark purchased a large janitor broom which he now swoops cheerfully through the house every morning. The last time I left town, he admitted to "leaf-blowing" the house from the inside. Ignorant friends say, "Why don't you just STOP him?" and I want him to shred them and send them the Lovaas study and ask them if they have a 9-year-old that requires 24-7. In any case, I am not alone. My friend Anke used to collect phone books and had a special room for her autistic son to jubilantly shred them in. Tommy's therapist Scott worked with a family that started a "shredding business" which allowed their son to shred and make some cash in the process. Say the word shredding in an autism support group: eyes will roll, some laugh, tears appear in other eyes, favorite books that fell victim get listed, and alternative shredding materials and ideas are offered like recipes in a cooking class.

 In the meantime, the waiters at our favorite restaurants know that "shredding will happen some, but hey, that lady tips great...". Anywhere he leaves or enters a vehicle, there will be a happily tossed pile of confetti. And screaming and spanking may sometimes take place near bookshelves. The garage looks like a confetti factory exploded in it, and sometimes I rake confetti instead of leaves in the yard. The colorful line of debris from the front door to the bus stop give the term "paper trail" a whole new meaning.

 Obviously, with severe autism, we spend a lot of time redirecting and working toward "more time in 'normal ' behaviors (swimming, jumping, boating, learning adaptive behaviors-this week it is how to egg hung). But when something calms a child who might otherwise be tantrumming in what to him is a daunting situation (a new restaurant, a home he hasn't been to before, an airplane), a few paper towels can be a great blessing, if you can imagine that. At the end of the day, it's just paper. We laugh and tell ourselves, hey, he could be a sociopath, a jerk, a schizophrenic, a complete lunatic. But he's just a beautiful boy with autism who likes to throw confetti everywhere. Can we just pretend every day is New Year's and let it go?