Rink Rat Reverie-An ASD Success

Thursday, April 22, 2010

As the parent of a child with Aspergers I notice patterns that seem to be inevitable. These are the ripples from the pebble his existence tosses into life’s large pond. Included in the ripples that wash over me are the parent-teacher conferences that routinely involve phrases like, “he gets it but he never turns his work in” and “he’s okay behavior wise but there are certain kids who tease him and he reacts badly”. Also noted are the calls about how he took apart piece by piece the classroom drinking fountain.

Outside of the school milieu come the comments from Sunday school teachers and Cub Scout leaders about repetitive behaviors and fidgeting. One told me that she gave Primus a pencil each week because she knew how he would disassemble the writing implement’s eraser. This would happen every week without question each and every time. But the price of one #2 yellow was okay because his fidgeting with that one predictable item would allow him to stay engaged in the class for the full hour.

Certain moments have more dread tied to them. One somewhat repetitive pattern is after a hockey practice or game a coach approaching and stating my surname and asking if he could talk to Primus and me. My stomach drops and my pulse quickens at these moments. Mentally my thoughts fly as to what has he done now, or how bad can it be? Typically the incidents that form the basis for the “talk” have their genesis in disputes that arise after neuro-typical kids begin looking for a scapegoat in the locker room after a poor showing by the team.

Last night the assistant coach approached after a disappointing loss and queried if Primus was still there. In a calm voice replicating other voices I have heard a number of times before, Coach followed up on his request commenting he wanted to mention something to both Primus and me.

Holding my fear and my desire to flee in check I figured it would be better to eat the toad upfront as opposed to letting uncertainty fester for several days. I note that a coach’s statement about wanting to mention is usually followed up with “There was an incident…” Routinely the incidents are tied to what happens when the verbally challenged son has had enough of the blame game and erupts. These blow ups are standard fare for Aspergers kids. Not showing emotion up to the point where they can’t take anymore they suddenly blow.

Over time Primus has been really good and used only his words with only one or two minor exceptions. One was a push that followed being targeted and blamed, something that exacerbated in the locker room because he didn’t respond appropriately with an “eat shit” or “fuck off” and was thus was perceived to be showing weakness.

Given last night was an 8-1 loss for us I assumed the worst. Blame game behavior is usually pretty intense after a humiliation. When I was asked where Primus was I went outside with the coach and called the boy back, he was almost at the car.

Upon my holler Primus returned. The classic symptoms of trouble were all there. When the coach says his name he stares down and off to the side. The coach begins, “I didn’t get to talk to you in the locker room…” Routinely the next thing that happens is a question that is really a vague accusation, “What happened in there just now?” A reference to poor social skills, poor anger management, poor whatever this is what usually comes next. “…and I wanted to compliment you. You had a couple of really solid shifts on the ice tonight. Hell, the team stunk up the ice but it looked like you were steppin’ up your game.”

There were no other comments. There were no asides, no buts. There was no social lesson or veiled warning. To my amazement Primus looked the coach in the eye, it was brief mind you, but he did look him in the eye. Somewhat haltingly he then said “Thank you coach”. This is the moment after all these years of hockey I have been waiting for. Hell, this is the moment as a parent of a child with ASD I have been waiting for in any venue. I had blown off a pair of tickets to a concert I had bought not knowing it was going to conflict with the game to be at the rink for the match. My choice was the correct one.

Little victories, I must remember to savor the little victories. My life has its issues. My vision both ocular and spiritual is poor and my health is dicey. A cancer survivor I live in a place where ongoing employment seems to be harder and harder to hold onto. Still, Primus will face far greater challenges than I have. Every single day he will struggle to understand and be understood. Eventually he will have to address issues of loneliness and separation. My hope is that God or luck ride with him. Last night was a victory and it must be savored.