"No Child Left Behind"...the worst thing that EVER happened to American children with severe disabilities.

Don't get me wrong.  This law has been effective for borderline kids, those with very mild disabilities or language lags.  Why?  Because this law required data-based proof that children are reaching reading and math goals, based on annual tests such as the CRCT.  It put principals and administrators of special education to task in a way that did benefit our society and our schools.  ALL EXCEPT FOR THE CHILDREN THAT NEEDED HELP THE MOST, and I would add for fiscal thinkers, the ones that will cost the most in the long run if they don't get the proper early intervention. Look at the organizational ladder of public schools.  A great teacher might become an IST (Instructional Support Teacher) and get a hefty raise.  The IST then proves herself by raising CRCT scores and lands the lovely job of assisant principal (lounge there while you can is I what I hear).  Then principal, coordinator, administrator...and hey!  Before you know it, you are the superintendent. The problem is that children like Tommy can't take the CRCT.  Thus, they don't advance the principal, assistant principal or Instructional Support Teacher's standing-no promotion, no raise, no recognition or awards.  THINK ABOUT THIS LONG AND HARD and then try to put yourself in our shoes as far as dealing with resources through principals and administrators of what "USED" to be special education in this country but is now simply a race to help the majority and an a catastrophe for MY child.

A school is required to make Annual Yearly Progress-AYP.   This progress is based on a test that many kids with disabilities can't take.  If the tests aren't up to par, the school gets penalized and put on probation.  Neither the principal, nor any anyone looking for a promotion or raise will get one in a school that doesn't make AYP, and this is ALL the responsibility of the school's principal, who these days uses the department of special ed (which USED to put kids with REAL disabilties first)and forces them to prioritize not truly disabled children, but children with extremely mild disabilities, or children who have English as second language. To make the situation worse, IF a school does not meet the criteria for CRCT test scores, it is then penalized, which not only harms the reputation of the school but also all those working in it, basically killing their chances of the promotions and raises they seek. I have watched principals hire the BEST OF THE BEST in special ed to tutor and teach "resource classes" full of "borderline kids" as they hire the least expensive teacher or para in the area to teach the more disabled children.  That is why parents of children with severe disabilities end up in court and lawsuits.  And parents of typical kids see us a "difficult" and "complainers".  Well, parents of typical kids who may be struggling or borderline in school, congratulations for having the law on your side!  Those of us parenting and tending to the schooling is our children with severe disabilities have to take our love for our kids, and the recognition that this law, NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND, harms them, and push for an addendum, a test, something can be added to this law, No Child Left Behind...that would magically give the same incentive to school systems to push our kids toward their goals. A new test, the same pressure on principals, special education departments, Instructional Support Teachers...something that requires THEIR promotion to also include the progress of our kids.
You might argue that our kids have "IEPs" (individual education plans).  Unfortunately, these have become weaker and weaker.  Children in special ed with severe disabilities now have Pass/Fail grades.  And many school systems can write a "P" for progress even if the child has barely even started to meet a goal.  The bottom line is that in REAL special ed , it is all about the teacher, the parapro, the therapists and their skills.  Sadly, I have found that following in the footsteps of parents of disabled kids who have special ed lawyers (or are special ed lawyers) clear the way in a school for years. Follow the lawyers and make you child's IEP count. It won't be easy/ Sometimes you just get lucky, and we are right now.  You get a teacher who really is just there because they love disabled kids. You get therapists who know their stuff, and you get parapros with big hearts. And you supplement where you can to help your kid by finding opportunities for kids with autism to become part of a community of play clubs such as Learning on the Log or Sensations Therafun. The bottom line though is that our fight, the fight of children with disabilities, is very different from that of the average parent and always will be as long as No Child Left Behind provides no incentives to school systems to intensify their efforts to help the population of kids who need it the most. Without built-in incentives for those who work with our kids, it is a daunting task indeed.

A Day in the Life

Quick footsteps and a soft giggle.  I roll over and look at the clock.  6:15...I hope for the Daddy to wake up.  I hear a yawn and a groan. "Hi, Tommy...want waffle? Come to the kitchen." Tommy runs from room to room naked and full of energy, saying all at once, "Cookie, I want leaf, outside, Mama's car...cookie!"  I call out, "Tommy Hedin, you come here right now and snuggle with your mama!"  He peeks in, smiles and runs away.  I swing myself out of bed with a yawn and head for the kitchen where the Daddy has made some coffee.  "Don't HIT me", yells Mark.  "Don't hit your Dad!  He LOVES you!" I chime in, and add, "Now SETTLE down and eat your waffle!"  Tommy sits and smiles.  "Juice", he says, and I fetch it happily.  "Orange juice ok?"  "Yah!"  I fill it 3/4 with water and add the juice, hand to him and kiss his cheek.  He drinks it quickly and runs for the basement stairs.  "PUSH!"  He says.  "I say, you didn't finish your waffle.  First finish it."  He goes back, eats some more and then starts to tear and sift it." "Waffle is for eating!" I say."

He runs to the door naked and says, "I want leaf!"  I tell him he's naked and needs to be dressed, so he runs down the basement stairs instead.  I slowly fill my coffee cup and follow him.  I hear a giggle..from the wrong room.  Tommy Hedin!!  He's in the laundry room pouring the soap out and rubbing it happily onto the floor."  "GET OUT OF THERE", I shout, and herd him toward his swing. He's naked and soapy and he jumps on his body swing to begin the superman flight.  He flies 2 feet above the floor in a circle.  It looks impossible!  He's happy. "Superman", I say.  Then he runs back upstairs. "Mark, have you given him his gummies (meds)?" I ask.  "Yes, I did."  I'm waiting for the meds to kick in and for him to calm down some.  "Ride car", he says urgently.  "Outside".  "I want leaf".  "Go to your room and let's get dressed", I say.  We go into his room and I tell him to "Get the underwear" out of the drawer marked -underwear-he gets 3 pairs and I help him put 2 back.  He has trouble putting them on and says, "Meed help", so I help him a little.  The same goes for "Get the T-shirt" and "Get the shorts".  He's getting better.  We can DO this!  Finally we're dressed and slightly stressed. "One kiss," I say, and he offers his cheek.

"Mark, I need to pack his lunch can you please watch him while I get this done?" "Yes, I'll take him for a ride.."  "Thank you!"  The door shuts.  I breathe a sigh of relief, pour another cup of coffee and sit down and stare into space.  Then I pack his lunch and prepare the backpack for camp.  Here they come.  We're ready. Kiss. Off they go. Mark drives him to camp.

At camp, he's hyperactive, but once the meds kick in at least he is calm enough to participate and follow directions some, especially in the activities he likes. At the end of the day, most days are good. Today, though, Armann says, "Double-check the meds...he's climbing out of his skin."  So we add a small dose and agree to send it to camp for them to administer.

I go to work and it's like a vacation.  So pleasant and easy.  I come home and enjoy some me-time.  Mark calls and says, "I'll pick him up."  and then here they come.  Tommy gets out of the car naked and runs towards the Jones' shrubs tearing off handfuls of leaves.  He then runs to the top of my car to shred, deepening the dent that is already there.  "GET OFF MAMA'S CAR", yells Mark and herds him to the porch.  I go out and say, "Mark why is he naked?  We can't let him run around naked" "I know!" snaps Mark.  Sour looks.  Tommy sits naked on the church bench on the front porch in the sun shredding leaves happily.  He is so beautiful.  "We really do have a gorgeous kid, don't we Daddy?" I say, and Mark looks at him and sighs and says, "Yes, we do."  I fetch clothes and get him dressed.  "One kiss", I say.  He smiles and offers his cheek.

In 10 minutes Tommy says urgently, "Ride car!  I wanna go!  Ride car!"  I say, "No, mommy and daddy are tired.  Let's rest awhile.  Come to my room.  I herd him into my room and lie down while he climbs the bureau and jumps from the bureau to the bed 20 times.  Finally he shouts, "Open door"!  Off we go.  "I want sand.  I want leaf.  Outside."  I say ok, and unlock the door.  He runs toward my patio and and I holler like a Banshee, "NO NOT MAMA'S PLANTS...GO OVER THERE FOR YOUR LEAVES."  He looks at my face and echos, "NO", quietly and heads for the nearly naked fig trees.  He strips off the leaves and climbs onto the trampoline.  I follow him and watch him smile and shred.  "BUMP"...he says, and pulls my hand.  I jump with him and we are happy.  I try to stop, but he says, "Get up...bump..." so we "bump" until we can't "bump" anymore. 

 I leave him and go to the kitchen. Mark is grilling chicken.  I go to make slaw and pasta.  We can sort of of keep an eye on him from here.  But then he runs into the kitchen with hosta leaves in his hands. "Dammit, Mark", I shout, "can't I take my eyes off him for 5 minutes!"  Mark shouts back, "OK right...you do everything..I do nothing."  I say, "That is NOT what I said...can't you move that laptop to a place where you can see the garden?"  Sour looks.

We eat.  He plays.  He yells, "Swim...I wanna swim!!"  I agree to take him.  Mark gets him in a suit and I throw mine on and we go.  He's happy.  In the car he repeats, "Swim, swim, I wanna swim" and we play 'fill-in-the-blanks'.  I say, "Tommy's gonna swim like a ____" and he says, "FISH"...I say, Tommy's gonna find Nemo and ____" He says, "Dorrie!"  We get to the pool and he flies into it, ecstatic.  I feel so proud of how well he can swim.  He's like a happy seal.  "1-2-3!  Get IN!", he says.  I'm glad he wants me to swim with him.  I steal his precious watering can and he says, "Throw it!" We race for it and dive for it.  I help him wait in line for the diving board. Some other kid dives for the watering can with him for a few minutes.Then comes the dreaded whistle.  "Adult swim", yells the lifeguard and everyone gets out.  Except Tommy.  "GET OUT OF THE POOL", I say, quietly at first.  Second time is louder.  Then I dive in and herd him to the edge. "It's adult swim, we're getting out and having a snack NOW" I climb out, drag him out and he throws himself down crying, "I waaa SWIM...SWIM SWIM SWIM."  I quietly try to explain what adult swim is and distract him with snacks.  It doesn't really work.  I herd him into the playground area and latch the gate behind us.  He throws himself into the dirt sobbing.  He's brown and muddy now.  The kids ask, "What's wrong with him?"  "Somebody hit him," I lie.  "Oh".  We finish swimming and he tries to take off his suit at the pool. "NO you can't be naked in public! Tommy wait."  He waits and then strips in the car. I turn on the radio and a Beach Boys song comes on.  He tilts his head, smiles, laughs out loud and starts his "Egyptian Head Dance"...so I join him, which makes him even happier. We arrive home. So much for snarking at Mark.  I try to control him, but he runs naked again to the neighbors' bush. 

He plays and I say..."Warm bath?"  and he says, "Warm bath.." I stay in the bathroom so he won't pour water on the floor.  Finally he says.."UNDER", we go to his room and he throws himself in bed.  I sing a song about the day. Everything we did.  He smiles and drifts off.  I kiss him, and say, "I Love You, Tommy Hedin..Do you love me?" He says, "Yah."

Misadventures and Heartstrings Costa Rica

Here I am...exhausted and stressed-in the Atlanta Airport-after the freaking marathon that is overseas travel with Tommy...panic in big buildings, a desperate need to sift mulch, sand, rocks on shiny surfaces, rip potted plants to shreds, jump on moving luggage carousels, grab the food of strangers, dart away unexpectedly, and scream, bite his wrists and freak out every so often on the plane. We have jumped through hoops and spit wooden nickels, to soothe, restrain, redirect, and control, and we are at our wits end. We have been glared at, tisked at, shouted at, stared at....we have had flight attendants give us free sympathy drinks, evangelists pray for us, and airport personnel either rush to help us or ask us why the hell we are in the "handicapped lane.." but all of that eases at I look at Tommy and Grandmom. They are side by side in matching airport wheelchairs (Tommy prefers to be restrained, it lessens his anxiety as well as his desire to slide down the luggage carousel ramp...) and Aunt Mary, who like me, is always trying to help him communicate, has told him, "Tommy, Grandmom can't see, so you need to touch her!!" And my exhausted, stressed, autistic son has discovered the loose skin on Grandmom's arms and decided, to her absolute delight, that it is the most fascinating thing ever. And he is kneading it like pizza dough and intermittently placing sound kisses on her arm. He rarely approaches Grandmom, and she has despaired of this because she is blind and can't play with him, but here, at this wonderful moment, there is a connection!! Mary and I and Grandmom laugh and quietly celebrate it, Nicholas chuckles.

You would never know that I had just completely lost it with the Atlanta customs entry personnel who had glared at us (next in line) for having a "perfectly healthy little boy" in a wheelchair in the handicapped line. They had proceeded to have a long, cheerful chat while casting casual annoyed glances our way. The glances had begun to change somewhat when he started screaming and biting his wrists...some interest appeared when he started hitting himself in the head. Finally something snapped and I crossed over the customs line and yelled, "I realize my son does not look 'handicapped' to you, but he has a solid case of autism, and he is impulsive and panicky in large buildings. He is now hitting himself in the head and freaking out...I know you are enjoying your little chat here, but if you don't mind, he really DOES have a disability, and it's been a HELL of a long day, soooo..." To my amazement, the chat ended promptly and we finally moved forward. You also wouldn't know, at this moment that he is kissing Grandmom's elbow, that he had screamed so much on the plane that the flight attendants had brought us free drinks, shaking their heads, and saying..."It's ok, it will be ok, we know you've got your hands full..." Nor would you guess at this moment of arm-kissing and smiles that my husband and I had practically killed each other at the end of the flight in a state of maximum stress, as our son yellled "PEE PEE!! PEE PEE! PEE PEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" at us for the 17 thousandth time (his way of getting up and walking around the plane)...

You might ask if it is really worth it to go on these exotic jaunts. This determination on my part to have an adventure, for all of us to have a great adventure every summer. So I will reminisce on the moments, like this one with grandmom that make it worth these hellacious flights. Like the look on his face when a giant Blue Morpho flutters past him in the jungle. Or our pride at his learning to swim in the ocean and enjoy BIG waves! The progress he has made in hiking-the fact that he waits for me some now, and even looks back! The smile as he sees clouds from ABOVE instead of below. The pleasant familiarity he now feels for monkeys as they swing by us on our journeys. The moments that a good vacation is made of. I will build my ability to hold them precious and give them more power than the difficult ones. We can, we can!!

The memories we make with the exclusive club that really loves him and gets him....swimming in the waves with the aunts and delighting at the foam. Kicking limes with his cousin. Waiting and sifting as his mom watches toucans....his SEEING the toucans! His smile! His emotional intelligence, facial expressions, love. The chance to travel with the Aunts, Mary who loves him so.

OOOHHH, Mark and I stress, we fuss and try to discipline him as he throws everything we own off the balcony. We build muscles dragging him screaming off the beach (separating him from sand, oh my!). Oh we sometimes holler at each other in times of frustration as he poors out every liquid in sight, floods our bathroom, and requests popsicles 3,400 times daily. Are we still married? Yep! Do we still love each other?...MOST of the time!! Can we still laugh? OH YES!

And we love him. And he loves us. And he loves Grandmom, and Mary, and so, heartstrings hold us together even on the wildest of adventures. So we will keep having them, absolutely...in places like Costa Rica, where easygoing, warmhearted people let things go with a laugh and a smile, saying, "Don't worry...it's ok!" Maybe Thailand?

In the meantime, I cry a tired tear of joy, and Grandmom laughs out loud.

Bye Katie, Bye Scott

Mom Is sniffly about losing Katie and Scott. They were pretty cool, well, ok, I guess they were really cool when all is said and done. When Kessler left, we didn't know if we'd EVER find another good helper in this world, but thanks to Dr. Heflin, who Mom calls 'The Autism Professor Angel who Sends us Amazing Help' and the Lunds, who are simply the best Behavioral Therapy Group in Town...we got Scott and Katie for awhile...

Katie came, and mom was nervous because the therapist before her had worn heels to try to teach me, and mom felt like anyone in heels and make-up wasn't really ready for me, and she must have been right, because this very nice lady in high heels made her getaway within about 6 months. She prefers babies, mom says, and ones who don't want to jump, run, and be big.

So Mom told the Lunds, yes, we need another therapist, but for God's sake, find one that wears tennis shoes to work, ok? And here came Katie. A complete natural. Tennis shoes, energy, and smarts! I loved her from the start, and so did Mom. Mom said, anybody who can get you to transition easily, jump with you, and keep your voice speaking is a good therapist. She said, anyone who knows that there is much, much more to this than just getting me to do what you say...that people who can bring out my intrinsic motivation, no matter how weird it may be...people who get me to come to them...well. Katie was it. And she specialized in getting me to play with other kids, which I simply do not like to do. But she found so many ways....But, as mom says, all good therapists come and go, and so will Katie. And after a year or so, she did. A divorce, a move, a new business, a new life....that's ok, Mom says, she did a really wonderful job.

And SCOTT!! This guy showed up with very red hair and a lot of energy. And he knew right away that we were going to have a blast. And we did. And wow! Scott and I did way more than just communciate with words (which is totally overrated, according to Mom)!! We rode bikes! We swam! We ran, we jumped, we climbed!! Scott met Katie, and she got him an extra job! Mom says she thinks they should go into business together.

But Katie moved on this month. And Scott's moving on after Friday....and Mom is on the computer again with Dr. Heflin, saying, do you have any really, really nice Master's students who would like some experience working with a really cool kid with autism? We can train them in Floortime, we can get some ABA training...you know, like every other therapist we've had, we'll probably end up getting him a really nice job....because the thing about students therapists is.....well they move on. Hey, we all need health insurance right?

But while they are here...they have energy, they can play, they learn, they listen, they teach, and Tommy loves them. And no therapist who ever worked with him leaves untouched by his bright spirit. It shows each and every person who comes that.....language is not just words...emotion is palpable....I am here and I SEE YOU, I hear you, and I'm glad. There is more to me than meets the ear. I am Tommy, and I will remember you. I have a really, really good memory.

Love,

Tommy

Mistletoe, Merriment, and Unsung Heroes

12th Annual Mistletoe and Merriment Concert

Last night a child named "Cisco", whose favorite thing to do is "throw stuff down" got to walk across the stage using his walker, throwing down gifts to the tune of "Mr. Grinch"....until finally Cisco and his entourage made it to the Christmas Tree, a very, very large, heavily decorated Christmas tree, and to the delight of Cisco (who by the way, could barely even get out of his wheelchair 4 years ago), and the even greater merriment of the audience, Cisco, the Grinch, threw down the enormous Christmas tree and laughed!!

Then Missy Worden, the world's best music therapist, who just happens to work for Fulton County Schools, announced the next act, two students in 5th grade who have known and loved each other for years. Missy explained to the audience (another full house, by the way) that these 2 special needs students always missed each other when one was absent, and just were blue without each other. Missy sadly explained they would be in middle school next year, so this would be their last time in the Woodland Elementary School's famous concert, Mistletoe and Merriment, and then opened the curtain.

They sat happily on high stools in full hippie costume, a beautiful boy and girl, and lip-synched "I Got You Babe" (well actually they were singing along pretty robustly) to an entranced audience of parents of special needs kids, special education teachers and parapros, and whoever else has managed to figure out that this really is the best Christmas Concert in the whole world. Needless to say, they got an enthusiastic standing ovation and thoroughly enjoyed their song in the limelight, their last song as a pair in that wonderful concert we get every year.

When Tommy first got diagnosed, we were so devastated...and it took a couple of years to really recover from the loss of "our" dreams for him. But when your child is diagnosed with a disability, you meet a better class of people. They, along with fellow parents and the good Lord, show you you are not alone, and proceed to not only teach but really LOVE your child. They are not whiners (special ed teachers are the toughest, most practical people you will ever meet), they are not whimperers...they, their parapros, the therapists, really appreciate our kids and not only love but accept and even embrace their differences. Diversity.

And they have no patience with whiny parents who feel sorry for themselves, nor should they. Your child is a gift, they seem to say, embrace him, love him, and live your life. And they teach us to do just that. Although sometimes they would surely like to give us, the parents, a spanking to hurry up the process.

All the while teaching kids like Cisco quietly with strength and patience to walk. Teaching kids like the Sonny and Cher pals to take care of themselves, and teaching kids like my Tommy, to talk. And teaching ALL of these kids to sing, dance, and celebrate the holidays in a beautiful annual performance. They are unsung heroes...who teach our children to sing.

So thank you Missy and all the teachers and paras, for teaching our children to sing, and once again making the best concert in the whole wide world (Mistletoe and Merriment) happen for the 12th time! We love you!! And we DO know you are heroes.

The POOP Wars

We will NEVER forget the day that Dr. Pakula, Tommy's neurodevelopmental pediatrician looked at us over her glamorous reading glasses to tell us, "This is the hardest group to potty-train. You may need professional help."

Almost 4 years later, last week, I had a moment. Katie, Tommy's ABA therapist was here, and he RAN into the bathroom (with no prompting), pulled down his pants, pooped, SORT of wiped, then washed his hands (with some prompting he didn't flood the bathroom or drink sink water and then spit it into the toilet), and ran out. We looked at each other, smiled and just said, "Wow...." With a tear in my eye, I told her, "It's been a long haul," and she knew exactly what I meant.

It's one of those dirtly little secrets about autism that nobody likes to talk about, The Poop Secrets!! According to the National Research Council surveys, toileting issues and behaviors, including stuffing toilets with paper or items, playing in toilets, flushing constantly to the frustration of all, and smearing feces make toilet training more difficult and intensive for children with autism. I would add to this list the fact that motor control and hyperactivity prevent some children with autism from wanting to sit still long enough to "get the job done"....and challenges with sequencing steps of behavior require picture instruction and carefully planned reward systems.

2 years ago, Kessler watched me have an out-of-body experience with the poop wars...we had been briefly discussing Tommy, who had run over to jump on the trampoline....within minutes, he was COVERED, the trampoline was COVERED, he was naked, and as happy as a clam, jumping jubilantly covered in his own very interesting crap. I lost it....I screamed at the top of my lungs, NO....NEVER, NEVER, NEVER TOUCH POOP....POOP IN THE POOOOOTTTTYYY!!" and then spanked his bare, poop-covered butt. He then cried and threw himself on me, so we were both covered in poop...him crying, me crying, and the therapist staring at us wondering if this job was really going to be worth it or not.

I felt myself leave my body and float up over the trampoline, which was brown polka-dotted by then, I saw my crying, brown, polka-dotted child, and my own brown polka-dotted self, and I wallowed in self-pity and frustration and Yes, Brown Polka-dotted POOP despair, that's right.

We read all the books, we got advice from everyone, we entered him in the Marcus Institute because Dr. Pakula said they were excellent at getting "these kids potty-trained..." NOTHING worked....

We prayed for grace and developed a level of patience that only that guy Job from the Bible could attest to. We timed our outings carefully and tried to control our anxiety about what might happen with pooping in other places. We did our very best to keep our dirty little secret to ourselves.

We would spend HOURS in the bathroom with Tommy, KNOWING he had to poop, and he would sit there happy as a clam watching DVDs...and then after 2 hours, we would give up, and he would run outside and crap in his pants in a corner of the yard while we cried in desperation and exhaustion. We learned to "Fling Poo" in the woods with leaves, through the air, we flung poo, and we wept.

Finally one Christmas, I said, "This is it, I can't take it anymore, I know it's the holidays, but he is NOT LEAVING THE BATHROOM UNTIL HE POOPS IN THE TOILET." My family was concerned, but I was determined. This is baby bootcamp, I told them, and this Christmas, by God, IT'S HIM OR IT'S ME. I set up camping gear in the bathroom, snacks, sleeping bags, and books. We did not leave for 5 hours...he clearly needed to poop, but.....and then finally, with me holding him on the toilet, HE POOPED IN THE TOILET. I celebrated, Mark celebrated, and my family decided we out of our damned minds, and you know what? At that point, we pretty much were. Well, that Christmas battle wasn't the end of the POOP WARS, but at least it was the beginning of the end, and just to let you know? Camping out in the bathroom and living there until they poop DOES get the job done.

Dr. Pakula's comment, I had thought, was RIDICULOUS. What do you MEAN this is the hardest group to potty-train, that we might need 'PROFESSIONAL' help...(which ended up being for him AND us by the time it was done).... I thought, she doesn't know me...I can do ANYTHING!!!

Well, she was right - it was unbelievably hard, and it took the strength of a lion...so now you know a little dirty brown secret about autism.

But don't tell anyone else, ok?

When you meet a person with Asperger's Syndrome, you will know it within minutes...they will engage on you on their topic of interest, and you will be impressed at their knowledge.

Just don't try to talk about your own interests or self with them.

"The Curse of Asberger's".... is the disorder of self-absorption, brilliance, amazing memory, and absolute indifference to what anyone else goes through unless it relates directly to them.... marked by the inability to RECIPROCATE IN CONVERSATIONS and a very obvious lack of eye contact. And a tendency to go ON and On and ON about trains, the Beatles, or Superheroes.

As adults, an inordinate number of them work at "Best Buy" (bless you, Best Buy, Circuit City, Used Record Stores, and in computer, technical, and accounting industries)

I spent 45 minutes trying to get away from a salesman at Best Buy the other day (no eye contact, nice guy, clearly bright) who proceeded to recite the entire history of "They Might Be Giants"....sigh, I was tired, but I thought, man, this guy is on the spectrum...let it be. Wait him out. How many others are going to do that for this guy?

Sound like someone you know? Could be an undiagnosed Asperger's Adult!

The Asberger's kids are being diagnosed, but not really treated in most public schools...we still just don't seem to get that a person's whole life, future, relationships, everything...is affected by whether or not he can reciprocate in a simple conversation. Like that is an unimportant skill that you should just "pick up" along the way. HELLO WORLD, IT'S NOT PICKED UP IN THIS POPULATION AND YOU ARE WRECKING THEIR LIVES BY NOT INTERVENING IN THIS AREA AT YOUNG AGES. Yes, public schools AND hesitant parents. I'm talking to you. If you think they are annoying as children, then wait until they grow up....or don't. Social skills classes and appropriate intervention could make all the difference in the WoRld to this population.

Nuff said? I think so too.