Live Squirrels in the Bedroom (the fine line between coping & losing it completely)

We've all had those times in our lives ... a lot is happening both good and bad, crises are coming up but we're managing, maybe we're even bold or foolhardy enough to congratulate ourselves that where lesser mortals might fall down we're still standing and maybe even winning ... and then that one extra thing happens that tips it all over the edge ...



 

For me, it was a "scritch scritch" window screen sound on a morning when I finally thought I might be getting ahead of the stream of crises that seem to define my work-life every fall. I got up from my computer, strolled down the hallway, opened my bedroom door, did a double-take, screamed, slammed the door and let out a few "star words" (you know, the kind you put ** into when you write them in a public forum) ... there was a squirrel, a cute little red squirrel (think Beatrix Potter), on the INSIDE of my bedroom window screen, running up and down my curtains.

My personal life experience (which I won't go into here since it involves a series of improbable tales that are frequently Monty Python-esque) actually includes more than one other story where a live squirrel has ended up inside our house, so I did possess the tools (live traps) and experience to meet the challenge. But when this particular rodent decided to make itself at home in my bedroom curtains, I didn't react calmly or heroically ... instead, I dissolved into a moment of pure panic and meltdown (as I'm writing this now, I'm really hoping that none of my neighbours were near enough to hear the ** words that came out quickly, colourfully and at a pretty good volume) ... and I was hit with the sudden realization (think cartoon hammer bonk to the head) that I was not coping with all the change and constant crisis nearly as well as I thought I was.

Long story short: I pulled myself back together, set a trap, left the house to go to work, found solutions for a couple more crises, came home and (mercifully) found a small peanut-butter covered squirrel in the trap (and squirrel poop on my bed). In my younger years, this wouldn't have worn me out ... in my older (saner?) years, I was surprised at how much it knocked me back (I think I said "I'm getting too old for this star word").

Still, good story (especially in the longer version with more detailed descriptions of the squirrel's moves and my counter-moves), so when I went to see Adam and his family the next day, I was looking forward to entertaining them with it.


Only to have my story totally overshadowed by what had happened at Adam's house the previous day ... while I was chasing a squirrel, Beth (Adam's mom) was putting out a fire (a real one, in her kitchen, by herself ... she's so competitive).

Let me explain:

Adam is extremely particular about his food. He has a very limited diet, and will not eat any alternatives if his particular brand of a certain "approved" food is not available. Before lunch, Beth (his mom) discovered that they were out of his apple juice, so off to the store, which as luck would have it was out of his brand of juice that day. Quick trip home to drop off the groceries they had bought, with Beth's mind only on whether Adam could tolerate yet another unplanned trip to a second store to get the apple juice (needed for him to have the lunch he expected). Second store had the juice, Adam managed the trip, and the single thought in Beth's mind as they got to their front door was helping Adam keep his balance by getting him his lunch as quickly as possible.

For those of you who have autism in the family, that series of events won't sound unfamiliar. Each person on the spectrum has things that they can and can't tolerate, and the consequences of taking a person with autism over the edge of what they can manage are often severe. When you live this way for many years, your priorities shift, with almost everything taking a back seat to helping the ASD person maintain their equilibrium ... which explains the series of events that happened next:

When they opened the front door, there was smoke coming from the kitchen. In situations like this, the human mind goes on auto-pilot. As Beth's mind quickly and automatically sifted through the list of priorities, getting Adam back on track (by making him lunch) still hit the top. She told Adam not to worry, left him at the door and ran in to find that a stove burner on low had started a grocery box on fire.

So what did she do? Scream? Cry? Run out? No .. in Adam's words (see below) she "cleaned the kitchen" .. no hysterics, no fuss, just coolly and calmly put out the fire.

 

And even at this point, the fire didn't reach the top of the priority/panic list, other than as an obstacle to cooking Adam his lunch.

 

The fire was not the tipping point, but the fact that the microwave and stove were now unusable could have been. Why? Because Adam has a narrow definition of what makes an acceptable lunch and all of the menu options require cooking. Fortunately for everyone, Adam decided that when your stove catches fire, toast is allowed for lunch - he ate at the kitchen counter and Beth cleaned up the rest of the fire mess (without the luxury of pitching a fit like I did when I first saw the squirrel).

 

 

Story the third (don't worry, it all ties together!):

 

 

 

A few nights ago, I had a vivid dream about a zombie apocalypse. The zombie mayhem happened at a cocktail party, so prior to the attack I had been looking pretty spiffy. I had a "worst case scenario" outcome I guess, because my next conscious moment was rising from the dead as an undead zombie. My first thought was "hey, this isn't as bad as I feared it might be", followed quickly by "yay, what luck, I managed to keep hold of my sparkly bedazzled evening purse!" As my fellow undead and I gathered on the dance floor, I was extremely popular because my evening purse turned out to be full of lip gloss (tubes and tubes of it) which I shared around after realizing that getting a cold sore wasn't a problem anymore (and zombie lips really do need a little colour).

 

Then I spotted my husband John, who had escaped becoming undead. For some reason he seemed terrified of me. Wanting to reassure him that I was okay and that being a zombie wasn't as bad as everyone had made out, I demonstrated to him (with giant scissors that suddenly appeared in my hand) how I could easily trim off damaged and decomposing body parts because my new body was like a plastic doll. I woke up with a strong feeling of surprise because it was obvious that my demo was not calming John down.

 

While a mental health professional might have something to say about the underlying mix of thoughts and experiences that would cough up a night-time story of this nature, it was actually a very happy dream for me: the worst happened, I was changed but not defeated, and I even found a way to bring a little joy and colour back to the party. Win, win, win!

 

 

Life has a habit of throwing surprises at us, and not all of them are positive or easy to deal with. When our lives include people on the autism spectrum, we have the extra challenge of supporting and shielding a person who doesn't do well with unexpected events, and it's easy to get into a state where your mental "panic button" is always partially engaged.

 

My best suggestion is to embrace the craziness of life rather than fighting it. Find the humour, celebrate the absurd, and collect friends who do the same. When you tip over the edge, lie there for a minute, use some "star words", then get up and jump right back into the zombie apocalypse party.

 

 

 

  

 

... and if you're looking for me and my "crew", I'll be the one wearing bright red lip gloss and holding a sparkly purse with a squirrel in it, my girl Beth will be wearing a determined expression and toting a fire extinguisher, and my friend Adam will be smiling and thoroughly enjoying the ghoulish ambience (because monsters and zombies and all things "Halloweeny" have always been his favourite)

 

 

 

 

Classroom Solutions - helping noise-sensitive students to cope

September can be a difficult month in the school system, as everyone (students, teachers, parents) gets used to new classrooms, new groups, and new expectations. 

 

 

 

This picture, drawn by Owen (and used with his permission), for me perfectly encapsulates the feelings of distress and irritation that can develop on all sides of the classroom dynamic, especially during the early weeks of the school term.

Here are some ideas to help you and your noise-sensitive students through any current rough spots, while laying the ground-work to create a learning environment that will be effective for the school year ahead:

1. Look at the problem from all sides:

Owen drew his perspective for me, clearly showing that he felt his noisy classroom situation was not working out for him, but also not working for the other students and the teacher. During our discussion, we used clues and tried to "guess" what was in the minds of the other people in the situation. This helped Owen to understand why some of the other students might be distracted and having trouble settling down to work, also why the teacher might be finding it frustrating as well (trying to teach when people weren't focused and listening).

It was important to him that I shared his drawn perspective with the teachers, so that he was sure they were aware of how upset he felt.

2. Figure out what you control and what you don't:

This is a critical part of the problem-solving process, because anger and frustration are driven by feeling powerless to change a difficult situation. Finding out where your power is (what do you control?) gives a starting point for effective solutions.

Here is a simple visual that I have often drawn for my students to show them what they control and what they don't:

Essentially, you have direct control over everything that is connected to your brain - your thoughts/feelings, your words, your actions. Your words and actions may "influence" another person's choices (this is the world of social cues), but you can't control what another person chooses to do, say, think or feel.

* aside: it's interesting how often I have to remind myself of this exact thing when I'm sorting out difficult situations in my own life *

3. Define the problem and generate a list of possible solutions:

Owen is extremely noise sensitive and his ability to process spoken information in the presence of background noise is not strong. The classroom was noisy and several students were being disruptive. Owen was able to define his core problems as: (1) clearly receiving the teacher's lesson and instructions, and (2) being able to focus and do his work.

Once we had clarified what the real problems were, Owen and I were able to come up with a list of potential solutions:

 

Notice that all of these strategies have to do with things that Owen has direct control over in the situation - they let him know that he does have power to change things for the better.

4. Get help for what is out of your control:

Even with the above solutions, this is a difficult on-going situation for Owen to manage (noise is a huge irritant that disrupts his thinking). Owen and I have known each other a long time, and he has confidence that I will act as his advocate and "go-between", explaining his distress to the other adults. He also has great confidence in the teachers at his school - they have helped him solve difficult situations many times over the years, and he is 100% certain that they "have his back".

True solutions to challenging school situations require on-going collaboration between the student, teachers, parents and any other professionals involved. Keeping good lines of communication going helps everyone to stay calm and have confidence that solutions can be found (no matter how difficult the events of the day may have been)

Untangling the "Why?"

Probably the most common questions I've fielded over my years working with individuals on the autism spectrum all start with the same word: "Why ... ?"

Why is he doing that?
Why doesn't he look at me?
Why did she run away?
Why did he melt down?

Some autism professionals will tell you that all of the information you need to know (to answer your question) can be found by observing the person's behaviour in the environment where it occurs. I would agree that this can be a good place to start (especially if the person is non-verbal) because you get some clues about what might have gone wrong, what might have irritated, upset or overwhelmed that person. But it's just a starting point.

Many human actions and reactions are more complex than "if this, then that" - they are driven by thoughts, feelings, perception, understanding - to figure them out, you will need to find a way to ask the ASD person what the situation looked like from their perspective and you will also need to listen to, respect and act on the answer you get.

So, a few personal stories to illustrate:

First, a story that I've mentioned previously in this blog. When Adam was in elementary school, a social goal was written into his IEP (Individual Education Plan) stating that he would learn to say "hi" to other students in the hallway. From the start, Adam was clearly (and observably) upset by this program. So, I drew a picture to "ask" him what was wrong - here's what he drew:



#1 is my picture "question" to Adam - pictures #2-4 are his "answer"

Picture #3 was the most compelling for me - Adam is inside the locker, hiding from the horrible smiling greeting girl (visible in pieces through the locker vents), his distress and upset clear for anyone to see (no lack of emotion on his part). While we still didn't know "why" it was so awful for him, there was no doubt that it was, so the "greeting program" was scrapped.

Respect for his perspective. In retrospect, my guess is that he was not able to process faces and voices very well at that point in time, so he couldn't really tell who was talking to him (or why they would be). When he got to high school, he seemed to suddenly be more comfortable with other people and started to spontaneously greet them and call them by name - because they were the same height as him? because his neurology had developed to the point the he could distinguish one person's face/voice from another? because life in general was more comprehensible to him? - maybe one or all of these reasons (or something else entirely). Interesting, but not as important as listening to him and respecting the fact that a program meant to be helpful was actually not.

Second story, also from elementary school, involves a different young boy with a diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome. We had been doing a lot of visual work to help him figure out social dynamics on the playground (an environment that was full of conflict and distress for him). Suddenly, his EA (Educational Assistant) made a worrisome observation - the boy's eyes were rolling up in his head when he was out on the playground with his peers. Some of you may have jumped to the same conclusion that we did - fearing he was starting to have seizures, we discussed a referral to the pediatric neurologist. But just before we did that paperwork, I realized we hadn't really asked him what those incidents were like from his perspective.

So, I drew him a visual "question" (although this boy was verbal, his language often failed him when he was trying to discuss more abstract or emotional topics). The question looked something like this:

I asked him to fill in the thought bubble, and this is what he wrote: "I don't want them to read my mind". Interesting. We had been having a lot of discussions about the "invisible" social cues (facial expression, tone of voice, body language) and about how eye contact was important because it let you "read" these social cues and make guesses about what another person was thinking (to help navigate a social situation more successfully). This boy was very intelligent. He decided he wasn't all that comfortable with having other people know what he was thinking, so he purposely denied them eye contact to prevent them from reading his mind. A logical and reasonable conclusion based on the information he had been given.

So, we had a new discussion about the difference between guessing and knowing, and the fact that the other kids couldn't actually read his mind. Once he felt reassured that his thoughts were still private and it was his choice which ones he wanted to make public, the eye rolling stopped immediately, and the neurology referral was no longer necessary.

Not a "why" that could be figured out in any other way than by asking the person doing the behaviour.

Third and last story. This one is about another beautiful and sensitive young boy with a diagnosis of autism, preschool age, who suddenly seemed to go backward in his toilet training. It turned out that he was fearful of the noise made by the public bathroom hand-dryers and his fear quickly extended to all toilets. A psychologist suggested to the mom that she make the boy go into the public bathroom (drag him, I guess), stand him under the dryer and repeatedly turn it on until his "avoidance" response was extinguished. The mom didn't think this sounded like a good idea, so she asked me for a second opinion. I strongly backed up her intuition that this was a very bad idea.

Observation showed that the boy was terrified by the hand dryer noise, although he couldn't articulate "why". Parental common sense says that you protect your child from fearful situations, rather than purposely exposing them to scary and overwhelming situations (because that's abusive).

Here's what we did instead. I made him a tape of sounds - ones he liked (like my piano) and ones he didn't (like the hair dryer). Then I let him be the boss of the tape machine (this was a while ago, it was a cassette tape). He controlled the on/off, the volume, which ones we played and which ones we didn't. Very interesting because he would choose to listen to the "fearful" sounds in this context, very softly to be sure, but he seemed to want to figure them out.

At the same time, we got him some "over the ear" noise protection headphones from the hardware store, and he wore these many places outside of his house to control his personal noise intake. I can still clearly picture the day he arrived at my house with a determined look on his face, headphones in hand and announced: "Sheila, get the broom ... we're setting off the fire alarm!" ... and we did ... and then he asked me to get the hairdryer so he could turn it on and off while cautiously lifting up one cup of his headphones. A very brave boy, facing his fears on his terms.

What was important here? Listening to his perspective. Giving him respect for the magnitude of his fearful response to certain sounds. Giving him control over that scary part of his everyday environment. Giving him strategies to manage the overwhelming cacophony of the larger world.

And here's the most interesting part. The "why" of his reaction, which was revealed as he grew older. This boy is a musical genius. His auditory system is so fine-tuned that he can play back multi-part harmony after hearing a musical piece only once. His auditory processing is far too exquisite for the yammering jack-hammer nature of our mundane world, and that's why he was overwhelmed by everyday noises when he was a little boy. As a grown-up, he is an accomplished musician with a rare talent. Beautiful boy indeed.

WHY is the most common question, and also the most important question.

 

Always seek out the perspective of the person on the autism spectrum. Respect the answer that you get, even if it's not convenient or the answer you hoped for. Bend the world to accommodate the ASD person, smooth the rough edges, make things comprehensible, give them control and the power to choose what they want and don't want, what they will or won't do. Respect them as independent intelligent human beings who may not want to comply with your arbitrary demands, but so what?

 

Defiance tends to lead to more interesting and unusual places than compliance anyway.

Michael's Father's Day Gift

Here's a story that Michael's mom sent me via e-mail yesterday. Michael wrote it for his dad, and with the family's kind permission, I am sharing the story with all of you:

First, an introduction by Michael's mom:

"Soon, he will have enough stories for a book. About six months ago Michael threw out an important wire and (his dad) was very upset, but there's been no talk of it since. How thoughtful of Michael to want to replace that wire ;-)"

And now, Michael's Father's Day e-mail to his dad:

"Dear, Dad,

I made a note for you for Father's day. I hope you like this.

Love your favorite son, Michael

It was Father's Day on Sunday, & Michael wanted something really special for his father. "Hmmm," said Michael. "I wonder what should I give my dad?" He decided if he wants a new wire for dad's radio. He looked at The Canada Computers Store for help. He looked & looked & looked & looked but the wire wasn't there. "Aw, tarter sauce!" cried Michael. "The wire is gone!" He went inside Future Shop & he finally found the wire in the wire box. He paid for it & puts it in his pocket & took it home. "I like my new present," said his father. "Awww, it was nothing," said Michael. "I promise never to throw the wire away again." His father doesn't really like the pink wire. He likes the black wire."

And a final comment from Michael's mom:

"In this story, we realized that the reason Michael threw out the wire was because it was pink.

Love how these stories give us insight into why Michael does what he does."

A beautiful illustration of the importance of opening alternate communication channels in autism, so that ASD individuals can express the reasoning behind the actions that can sometimes get them into trouble ... and there's always a reason.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Background Noise - the annoying reality

I want to address a topic today that has a wide impact on all aspects of learning and functioning for most individuals on the autism spectrum - the debilitating effects of background noise. Here is a picture drawn by Brett (who has Asperger's Syndrome) showing his reaction to a regular classroom environment where the other students are chatting. The number in the bottom right-hand corner represents his irritation level (from Tony Attwood's emotional thermometers) - well past the "danger" level, at 100%.

For most neuro-typical people, screening out and damping down background noise is an automatic ability. Many people don't even realize how loud the background noise is until something specifically draws their attention to it. For example, have you ever attempted to audiotape a lecture at school or at a conference? From where you're sitting, the speaker's voice seems perfectly clear, and you have no doubt that the audiotape will be of high quality. Then you go home and try to listen to it - to your great surprise, all you can hear is voices of people in the audience, whispers and rustles, an annoying air conditioning fan from overhead, the sounds of footsteps - the speaker's voice is barely audible and certainly not clear enough to decipher the meaning of what he or she is saying.

Perception and processing of language is an active process involving multiple levels of your neurological system. The raw sound signal that hits your outer ear is a mass of sensory information. Your auditory system goes to work on that signal immediately, with automatic processes turning up the volume of the person you're listening to, and turning down the volume of everything else in the room. Your visual system feeds in information as well, with your eyes picking up non-verbal communication cues that fill in gaps in the auditory signal's information. Your knowledge of language allows your brain to assign meaning to indistinct words by quickly sorting through all of the possible things that might have been said (based on the flow of information). At the same time, your brain also scans the background for important information that you might want to know - like the sound of a fire alarm, or perhaps simply a question from another speaker in the audience that your ear will tune to, so that you can follow the flow of verbal interaction. All of these brain functions happen automatically, in milliseconds, so far below your conscious level of thinking that you are totally unaware of them.

Individuals with ASD may have weak or non-existent abilities to effectively process the raw auditory signal. For them, any group situation is a wash of babbling voices, overwhelming their senses and their ability to think. Often a rise in background noise can cause a behavioural outburst or melt-down. The ASD individuals that I see commonly report that the sound of human voices is more irritating than other environmental noises - it seems that words and language are harder to simply ignore (part of the brain insists on attempting to process the language, even if you don't want to).

Here is a movie created by a young friend of mine named Michael. Michael is verbal, but can have difficulty explaining in words why he does certain things - his drawings can be more revealing about the thought process behind his actions. He often draws pictures in sequences that are very much like animation "storyboards". To encourage this type of expression, I have frequently "translated" his drawings into short Flash movies (by scanning his drawings, importing them into the animation program, and making his drawn "plans" come to life). This short movie clip originated with a spontaneous drawing that Michael made of a machine he called the "blah blah sucker" - a fabulous invention that would suck the annoying words out of the background of his world. The storyboard sequence of "what happens next" was drawn during his session with me - I love the humour that he shows in the ending:

Michael is currently learning how to make animated movies himself, using a simplified version of Flash (called "Koolmoves") that has a more direct user interface than the full Flash animation program (easier to simply work on the screen, choosing tools from a toolbox, but not having to deal with putting items in layers or specifying "tweens" that control the movement pattern between key frames). My hope is that this will provide another channel of expression for him, and perhaps also lead to development of skills that will help him find employment as an adult.

So what's the moral of the story? Pay attention to the environments that ASD individuals are exposed to, especially when you're asking that person to use language, or learn something new. Understand that an ASD student may receive 0% of the verbal information given in class, so they should always have a visual version of the information to look at while the teacher is talking, and a permanent copy given to them to keep for study (don't make them take notes while you talk). Use noise-blocking headphones to subtract background noise during classroom work periods - for students who are self-conscious about standing out, try using ear-bud headphones with a personal music player, so the music can block out the sound of external voices (you may need to experiment to see what "blocking" auditory information is helpful vs. distracting). If the ASD person is participating in an activity where the background noise is high (eg. gym class, social activity like bowling), make sure key information is in a visual format, give information ahead of time (eg. as a social story), and don't expect a lot of conversation out in the hub-bub. Give the ASD student access to quiet spots to work and learn (to be used with your encouragement, but at their discretion). If you're a job coach, pay attention to background noise, when you are assessing co-op and permanent work placements for ASD clients. For family members, make sure the home environment has quiet "escape spots" so that the ASD individual has a chance to get away from the noise and unwind, decompress and recharge - make home a haven from the chaos they must constantly deal with out in the larger world.

This is another example of how important it is to have a way to look at the world through the "eyes of autism". Drawing about difficult situations reveals key information that helps those of us on the "outside" to unravel, understand and find solutions to the challenges that every-day life presents for those living on the spectrum.

Expressive drawing as "augmentative" communication for verbal ASD individuals

Drawing for communication is also a very effective technique for more verbal ASD individuals (Asperger's and PDD-NOS), especially when dealing with emotional and social concepts (a general area of weakness for any ASD person). When emotions run high and life falls apart, the high distress frequently causes language skills to retreat, and words become a poor tool for working through the challenging situation. In this context, drawing is used as an "augmentative" communication tool (where the drawing "augments" or adds to verbal language to provide more detailed and complete information).

Published research has shown the effectiveness of putting social and emotional information into a visual format for individuals on the autism spectrum (eg. Carol Gray's "Social Stories", Tony Attwood's emotional "thermometers" and "toolboxes"). Expressive drawing adds another dimension to this teaching mode, because the ASD individual processes and acts on the information: presenting their own point of view, generating their own strategies and solutions, and predicting potential outcomes. This type of active problem-solving leads to integrated and flexible social learning, building a skill set which allows the individual to apply the information to novel social situations.

Let me introduce you to another young man on my caseload who has been using expressive drawing to solve difficult social situations for many years now. His name is Brett, he has Asperger's Syndrome, and he has very kindly given me permission to share some of his work with you. Here is an example of his drawing about a tricky upset that happened at school:

Solving the problem started with the green square - this was the event that was visible to others - a loud angry upset at school when the teacher tells him the final copy was supposed to be typed - we went back in time visually to see what the real problem was. Square 1 shows the night before, where Brett is trying to get his homework done, but is having great difficulty understanding the details. He wants his dad to come and stand by the computer while he works, so he'll be available for questions. Dad says "no", so Brett comes up with a strategy where he prints out multiple versions of his written work and brings them out to his dad for editing. Meanwhile, his older sister takes issue with the fact that he's wasting paper doing this ("You're killing all the trees!"). Square 2 shows how "happy" he is to be doing his homework. Square 3, the torture continues as dad edits and changes are required. In square 4, he gives up and simply hand-writes his last version. The circled numbers included in the pictures represent how "hot" Brett reported himself to be on his "angrymometer" (from Tony Attwood's techniques) as the incident evolves. In square 6, Brett comments that "Dad screws everything up". Once we knew in detail what was behind the outburst in class, it was possible to make effective strategies for "next time".

Brett is currently finishing high school, and these techniques have helped him to become an effective and flexible social problem-solver (with an excellent "dark" sense of humour that helps to counteract his angry reactions to social mis-steps). His perspective on everyday social interactions is often surprising and always enlightening.

When I spent a lot of time in the schools, I used this type of problem-solving on an almost daily basis. It's something that can be developed with any ASD student, whether they know how to draw or not. All you need is some paper (or a chalkboard) and practice at rendering key parts of a social situation in simple line drawings (it's not "great art", it's visual information - stick figures are good). I have presented these techniques at many teacher workshops over the years, and a lot of the teachers who attended those sessions have since incorporated the drawing techniques into their "bag of tricks". Let me end with an excerpt from an e-mail I got a few days ago from a long-time teaching colleague and friend (after she took a look at the website and blog):

"I use cartooning all the time ... daily in my job as High Needs Coordinator .... This method works every time for me as we attempt to uncover the truth about 'what really happened when you lunged across the table and squeezed the living daylights out of that kids arm!' It's amazing what we learn ... and we always do the Next time .... which does really prove to work over time."

It's not rocket science, and it does work - take a chance and give it a try!

Feeling understood is as important as being understood

Individuals with autism who lack the skills to communicate with the larger world are often upset. Part of that upset comes from the inability to predict everyday events and to express basic wants and needs. But a deeper cause of the upset is often the feeling that others don't truly understand their thoughts and emotions and why they find a certain situation difficult or intolerable.

School recess was often a distressing time for Adam - too many kids, too much action, too many interactions. We frequently dealt wih post-recess upsets during his early school years, with Adam unable to calm down or say what was wrong. In grade 4, we had a break-through. A classmate of Adam's came in after recess and told the teacher that she had seen another boy harassing Adam at recess. I sat down with Adam, and drew a picture of the boy kicking him. Adam was crying and nodding his head and repeating "no kicking". I drew a red circle with a stroke through it over the picture, reassuring him that this was not allowed, and that the teacher would make sure that it didn't happen again. For the first time that school year, he was able to calm down and do his afternoon school work. What was key in this situation was the clear visual communication to Adam (through drawing) that we all knew what had been happening on the playground, and the follow-up message (transmitted through the red circle over the picture) that it was against the school rules and that the other boy was in the wrong. The relief that Adam felt over finding out this information was palpable.

And the post-script to this incident was also very interesting. Adam went home that night and drew the following two pictures, showing him taking his revenge on the boy (I love the cartoon lump on the boy's head and the motion marks indicating him spinning around - I also love the clearly expressed emotions on the cartoon faces):



In real life, Adam never touched the boy, never acted out what he drew - but the drawing of these pictures seemed to give him closure on the incident, and he was able to move past it. We are all familiar with this type of mental problem-solving (the "why I oughtta ...!") and it helps us to function in our daily lives without clonking all the people who annoy us on the head. This is a higher level function of communication than simply transmitting basic wants and needs. It reflects the use of imagination to work through something mentally so that it doesn't remain an insurmountable problem in the real world.

Later that same school year, Adam was once again showing regular post-recess distress. This time however, he was able to spontaneously draw out was was upsetting him:

The picture he drew shows several boys chasing Adam - the boys thought it was a fun game - Adam thought he was in mortal danger. The teacher's reaction in this situation was terrific. Once Adam drew the picture, she handled it in the same way that she would with any recess altercation with any other student. The boys who had been chasing Adam went to talk to the principal, and that discussion helped them to understand why he was upset. Then the boys drew apologies to Adam:

The drawn apology helped Adam to become calmer about the situation, because it confirmed for him that people understood his point of view, he had rights and the school rules would protect him. At the same time, the other students and teachers gained respect and understanding for the feelings and perspective of the real person behind the silent exterior.

Real communication is so much more than pointing to pictures of objects and activities, and being able to indicate "yes" and "no". The strength of drawing for communication is that it gives non-verbal ASD individuals a way to express more subtle and higher level thoughts and feelings. This type of communication builds confidence and a real sense of control and belonging in a world that is too often arbitrary and unpredictable from the ASD perspective.