Tag Archive | Autism

Product Promises, Broken iPad & a Blessing

My dear friend Cindie recently had what could have been a terrible, awful, and heartbreaking incident happen with her sons iPad mini, BUT, Walmart did something wonderful, something another company could have easily, and perhaps should have done themselves.

Cindie’s son is an adorable 9-year-old boy who dropped his iPad, breaking it. Now I know some of you might be thinking, why does a 9-year-old have his own iPad? Or something along those lines; the difference between Cindie’s son and an arguably overindulged 9-year-old with an expensive piece of technology is this, he is autistic.

This particular little boy uses his iPad to communicate, it is his voice. Like any responsible parent, Cindie did her best to protect her sons ability to communicate with the world. She purchased a protective case she was led to believe was pretty much indestructible.

Problem is, the case itself does fulfill the indestructible portion of its claims, but not so much the protective part. It fell short in its ability to protect what it was meant to protect, leaving Cindie and her son with an intact case on a broken iPad.

I realize we can’t blame a product for its hype or effectiveness, well, we can, but reality is, things happen and sometimes we just have to suck it up. I understand Cindie’s frustration with the product in question, I also understand that companies do not have to go out of their way to help us out when something goes wrong, but they can. Some do. Especially in circumstances like the one I’m sharing.

Thankfully, a company did step up, it wasn’t the one she’d expected.

The following is the message which prompted me add my own two cents worth of words . . .

PLEASE SHARE! From a note I wrote . . . I never write things, but I feel very strongly about this.

iPad smashed — The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Bad — My 9 year old son dropped and shattered his iPad mini at school. It had a Griffin Survivor case on it. My husband called Griifin and talked to customer service, and to their supervisor and to their supervisor (you get the picture). Well there is nothing they can do for us “But if the case is broken we will replace it.”

WHAT!!!! The case is not broken. The iPad it was supposed to protect is. http://store.griffintechnology.com/survivor-case-for-ipad-m…

The Good — Our local Walmart in Coventry, RI, upon hearing that R needed a new voice, has donated one to him! Yay Walmart! http://www.walmart.com/store/2283/

The Ugly —I’m feeling really ugly, mad, and hateful towards Griffin Technologies. Military tested! And it broke! Now I totally support our military, but, yeah, ummm Griffin you dropped the ball. How’s about Autism Tested?

That last bit there is a pretty good idea, I propose ALL products be autism tested as the new standard of durability!

Kudos to Walmart for extending such compassion.

I’d love to hear your suggestions, experiences, and advice in regard to what you feel is the best protective cases on the market, I’m sure Cindie would as well . . .

Crystal R. Cook

In regard to functioning labels – Autism

Jan21

Functioning Labels & Autism

When we use functioning labels, we’re telling the world a half truth, and our children are often held to certain standards they cannot always rise to meet, or held down by expectations set too low.

I used to use the term high functioning when talking to people about my boys, both at varying degrees on the autism spectrum, until I slowly began to realize I was setting them up for certain failures and disappointments in doing so.

High functioning does not mean their lives aren’t difficult and confusing in many ways. It does not mean they do not struggle, in fact, it minimizes their struggle.

The term low functioning in regard to others on the spectrum can lead people to expect less than they should from them. The term low functioning does not reflect how capable someone may be, in fact, it minimizes their capabilities.

In my mind, I was trying, in the simplest terms, to tell people my children had many abilities some on the spectrum may not. They speak, though neither developed spontaneous, conversational speech until they were around five years old.

They are able to express themselves beautifully and articulately, but it took a lot of hard work before they could, and while they still struggle at times with the semantics and pragmatics of speech, they have a voice.

They struggle with sensory issues and learning deficits, they battle anxieties and obsessive thought patterns and routines. Years of special education, speech, occupational, and physical therapy have filled in many of the gaps and given them tools to self regulate and maintain what they have learned. Most of the time.

While they can remember complex ideas they often need reminders and help to accomplish the simplest of tasks. Some days they are high functioning. Some days they are in the middle, and some days they are low.

Autism is a spectrum in the broadest sense, encompassing all levels of functionality for every individual diagnosed, there is a vast spectrum within each one of them.

My boys are now adults, amazing, wonderful, young men with many gifts and abilities, but they are not yet capable of being on their own. They may never be fully able to without some sort of assistance, maybe they will. I do know that when they spread their wings I am not going to clip them by giving them a label that tells the world they can soar when they are just learning how to fly . . .

Crystal R. Cook

Listening With Your Heart – Autism Sings

Sep3

He walks to the beat
of his own little drum,
the rhythm sometimes
gathers a crowd.
Some people sing along,
others simply
walk away.
There are those
who scoff,
they can’t hear
the sweet music.
Sad souls
listening
without
hearing.

My heart . . . it dances.

Crystal R. Cook

Reality Check

Aug22

Going through the shoeboxes again . . . I distinctly remember the day I wrote this. I was tired. So, so, very tired. The week had been a whirlwind of medical appointments, two IEP meetings, my husband was out of town, my blood sugars were high, and my energy was low.

Autism was in charge and it’s sidekick Bipolar was running amuck. I was outnumbered and out of my mind – Thankfully, a little reality check pulled me back.

Seems like only yesterday sometimes

I remember reading something once about about people with unsinkable souls, I believe I am an unsinkable soul. I simply must be. If I weren’t, I certainly would have drowned in whatever sea of muck souls sometimes sink into long ago. I’ve felt myself being pulled under a few times, but I always manage to pull myself up for air. Sometimes, I even manage to find dry land.

I recall one particular night when my toes were just about to reach the bottom of this proverbial, soul-sinking pit, and I was ready to throw in the towel, search out a nice little cave and see if it was possible for a human to hibernate. Ultimately, I decided it sounded like too much work and made one last attempt to free my sinking soul from the murky depths by reaching for my pen.

Miraculously, I managed to pull myself up and I began to write. I was going to pour my heart out on the page. It was going to be a gloomy piece, a somber and sad work of words. It’s often said writing is a healing art. I’ve never doubted it to be anything but true, but I may have taken it for granted now and then.

On this night, as my tears fell to the yellow pad beneath my hand, transforming my words into water-color patches of blue, I was reminded of the awesome power writing holds. I did not pen a masterpiece that night. I did not create an epic tapestry of words that would go down in poetic history. It was not my best writing, nor was it the worst.

It was also not what I thought it would be when I began. It turned out to be something that dried my tears, made my husband laugh, and my children smile. Writing is a healing art.

Peace and quiet . . . Solitude and rest,
someone else to cook the meals, someone else to clean this mess.
Someone else to do the laundry and mediate the fights,
someone else to sweep and dust and get up and down all night.

Oh, for just one day, I need a little break,
I need someone to give, instead of take, take, take.
Let me have a little nap, for just an hour or two,
a rejuvenating rest sounds like a wonderful thing to do.

I’d love to take a shower till the hot water is all gone,
I simply can’t imagine staying in there for that long.
I could actually take the time, to shave my legs tonight,
and I’d love to go to bed sometime before midnight.

I could paint my nails or polish up my toes,
I could curl up on the couch and catch up on some shows.
I could read a book and maybe have a cup of tea.
I’m not trying to be selfish, I just need some time for me.

REALITY CHECK

The kids say they are starving, they are on the brink of death,
you can’t make it down the hall unless you watch your step.
The dryer keeps on buzzing and someone just got punched,
I don’t think I’ll get to take that nap, but that is just a hunch.

I’m sure I’ll get to shower, sometime late tonight,
when the kids have given in to the sleep they like to fight.
The hot water will be gone between dear hubby and the dishes,
so I’ll keep that dream close to heart with all my other wishes

Maybe I’ll just shave my legs tomorrow or the next,
I’ll wait for a new razor, I think this one has been hexed.
Most my nails are broken so I’ll pass on that one too
the other stuff sounds nice, but I’ve got too many things to do.

Like drop from sheer exhaustion and drift off to sleep and dream,
of perfect little children and a house that’s always clean.

REALITY CHECK

The morning sun has risen, a new day lay ahead,
and there’s a morning snuggle bug curled up in my bed.
I wrap my arms around him and hold him near my heart
I cannot think of a better way for a brand new day to start.

I really can’t imagine someone else to take my place,
and chance missing a precious little smile on a dirty little face.
The housework’s not that bad, not compared to other things,
like the joy and love and laughter having a family brings.

Crystal R. Cook

Autism – Unexpected Milestone

Aug8

Disabilities do not diminish the capacity to love or be loved. I often think those who face the challenges that come with disabilities, can have a greater understanding of love and acceptance than those without them. Perhaps we are the disabled when it comes to matters of the heart . . .

This particular shoebox memory was written late into the night following an unexpected milestone in my son’s life.

He is a good man; he will always be a good man. I can see that so very clearly. His disabilities have become his abilities. They have helped form this perfection I see before me. I thank God for him. I can’t help wishing I could hold on to him forever, but now I think I can let go just a little.

I never doubted this day would come, but I wasn’t expecting it just yet. He lives in an autistic world of his own, right along the borders of mine. The world expects a social reciprocity he’s not yet able to fully give, the world expects certain behaviors and conformity he may never be able to grasp. It’s a world he is slowly beginning to explore.

When the time came, he wasn’t the nervous one, that was me. She wasn’t the nervous one either, that was her mother. He waited patiently while her mother unloaded the wheelchair and helped her buckle in. He noticed she hadn’t a jacket and made certain to let her mother know if she caught a chill he would gladly give her his.

We may have embarrassed them just a bit by taking the picture; you would have thought it was a prom instead of a date at the mall. Neither of them will ever go to a prom though, and this was not simply their first date together, it was the first date for both of them.

He is eighteen, she is sixteen I believe, I was so excited I neglected to ask. I had to fight back tears as I watched them reach the top of ramp and disappear into the mall. They were off to see a movie and have a bite to eat. They planned to take a picture in the photo booth. I wondered how they would work it out, her strapped in a wheelchair and he a bit on the awkward and clumsy side now and then. I prayed they would have fun. I prayed they would be safe.

I worried they would be treated unkindly by the cool kids we passed by as we left. He is very much the target on his own and I’m certain she’s had her fair share of the ugliness this world has to offer. It was my hope the two together would remove the proverbial target which tempts people to shoot nasty things their way.

It was a month to the day they first met. Both students in a program to help special needs kids . . . my apologies, young adults, find jobs and gain work experience. Life experience really. When she wheeled her way into the room the only one to make eye contact with her was the one boy who rarely makes eye contact with anyone My boy. He was seated at the end of the first row; she maneuvered her chair next to him, the best spot in the house.

He smiled at her, I’m not sure if she smiled back, I couldn’t see. She seemed to look around, as if trying to catch someone’s attention, perhaps simply to say hello. Most pretended they didn’t see, some just obviously ignored her. He noticed. He waited until she looked his way again and told her he thought her wheelchair was nice. I’m sure she smiled because I saw a smile light itself upon his face.

They began to talk, listening when it was time to listen, talking when it was time to talk. He was called to the front of the room to pick his job; he carefully maneuvered himself around her chair and lumbered up to the front of the room. He could hardly contain his excitement; he received the job he’d so badly wanted. He returned to his seat with twinkling eyes. Literally twinkling. She said she would like to work there too, he suggested she ask if there were any other positions available. She nodded her head and they said goodbye. “It was nice to meet you, maybe I’ll see you again sometime.” he said. She nodded, this time I did see her smile.

It was a toy store, the job he chose. He’d been working for three weeks when they met again. She’d requested a position at the toy store as he’d suggested. Neither knew they worked together until she missed a day of work and had to make it up with a different shift, his shift.

He wasn’t sure at first who asked who out; he later said he remembered it was she who suggested doing something together when the weekend came. He came home from work that evening and told me something strange had happened. I was almost alarmed, but by the look on his face the feeling turned quickly to curiosity. He said he met someone at work and, well, they sort of had a date.

I was more than a bit taken aback. Granted, he was eighteen years old, but I’d only recently begun processing the many emotions accompanying the achievements in life he’d recently made. He’d begun to ride the city bus on his own and was a working man. Now, he tells me he has a date. I fought off a fit of schoolgirl giggles and mommy tears. I managed to hold it together enough to ask what they had planned.

They’d decided to take a photo in the photo booth at the mall. I asked if they talked about doing anything else . . . nope. Just the photo booth. Such innocence is a welcome respite from the real world. He said goodnight like it was any other night and went off to bed, my tears fell and the giggles escaped before the door clicked shut.

Before the end of the week, after a couple of phone calls and a few well placed suggestions, a movie and a bite to eat was decided on. They would visit shops in the mall and talk. Saturday came too quickly for me. I hadn’t realized he was already dressed for his night out when he came to me, I told him to go get changed for his date. He didn’t quite understand the importance of slightly more polished attire. We settled on a pair of nice, muted black and gray cargo pants and a black tee with a dragon on it, his favorite. He combed his thick, long hair back into a ponytail and sprayed on his best smelling deodorant. I even got him to brush his teeth. He decided to forgo the shave; we’re still working on that one.

I imagine it may be hard for others to imagine the importance of these seemingly ordinary and perhaps even mundane moments, but to me they were anything but ordinary and far from mundane. There was a time I wondered if he would ever have a friend, and here he was readying for his first date.

The time to go was drawing closer with each beat of my heart. I saw the first glimpse of nerves showing in his eyes. He assured me he was fine. We arrived at the mall just as her mother was preparing the wheelchair he’d complimented his date on only a month before.

Her mother had the same look in her eyes I know I must have had in mine. I imagine she wondered if this day would come for her daughter just as I wondered if it would for my son. I was so lost in the moment I forgot her name as soon as she introduced herself. We talked for a time after they left us to ourselves and our emotions. It was a relief to see she felt as I did. She asked me about him, I asked her about her daughter. I felt comfort seeing the small tears forming at the corners of her eyes, I wasn’t alone.

I spent the next hours talking to my husband about how surreal the whole thing was. If I wasn’t saying, “I can’t believe he is on a date right now”, he was saying it. It consumed our thoughts and our conversation. We were already back at the mall when he called at nine o’clock. “The date is over.” he said. As we pulled up to he curbside, her mom was already helping her into the car; we listened as our son told us of their evening while she carefully placed the pieces of the chair into the trunk like she’s surely done a million times before. Somehow, I don’t think she usually did this with such a soft smile on her face.

He told us the movie was great, he said he had a hard time holding her hand like she wanted, not because of the chair though; he said it just doesn’t seem like a natural thing to do unless you are sitting down, maybe, he added. I heard her giggle from the car. He pulled out the new wallet he bought and proudly showed me each feature; the next thing from the bag was a cap gun and little plastic rounds. He’s been waiting for years to get one.

Lastly, he showed us the photo booth pictures. Four in all. He showed us which one she liked best even though her hair was back in a braid and she wasn’t happy with the way she looked. He said he thought she looked just fine though, another giggle floated from the open window of the car. I couldn’t help but imagine how he helped her from the chair to the booth and back. He said, “Well, goodnight.” and began walking from the car. I carefully suggested he say goodbye to his date before making his exit.

He went to the window, said goodnight and turned to go. Another giggle is all I heard after that. We said our goodbyes to her mother; I knew she was anxious to talk to her little girl about her first date. We walked slowly back to our own car. Further details were few, I took what I could get, once again fighting off tears and the urge to giggle just a little.

He said they’d had fun, he said they were quite opposite. He didn’t like the stores she wanted to visit and she didn’t like the ones he wanted to visit. He didn’t understand how she could ask him to leave a store he enjoyed and then ask him where he wanted to go next. He said he told her the night was about her and what she wanted, so he found himself in the most girly of shops.

He said they have plans for another date and they will share their dinner break at work on Monday. I don’t know if he understands the whole concept of dating. He has referred to her as his girlfriend since she first asked him to go out. I have fear for him and I have hope for him. Such hope. I don’t know what this milestone is like for other parents, I somehow think it carries different emotions for them. Of course, I’ve no way of knowing.

I found myself staring at him this morning. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I saw my baby and I saw the man he has become. I think part of me wanted to feel a little sad, but I’m not sad. I feel something I haven’t yet found a name for. I am so proud of him. He was a gentleman, just as he has always been. He is a good man; he will always be a good man. I can see that so very clearly. His disabilities have become his abilities. They have helped form this perfection I see before me. I thank God for him. I can’t help but wish I could hold on to him forever, but now I think I’ll let go just a little . . .

When I pulled this from the shoebox tonight, it brought tears to my eyes. Seven years have passed since his first date, there has yet to be a second. They were the perfect couple to share this experience, the rest requires more than either of them were able to understand. My son still says he is unsure if he will ever understand women, I assured him he never would. She was demanding and required more social interaction than he was able to give. When he tried to explain this to her, she called him names and threatened to run him over with her wheelchair.

Regardless of how the story ended, this was a monumental milestone I will never forget.

Crystal R. Cook

Is it really the least restrictive environment? Special education vs Mainstream

Aug8

*The following is based on personal experience and observation both with my own children and those I have advocated for in the past. I realize there are indeed success stories involving a smooth and beneficial transition from a special education setting to a general education one. Unfortunately, there are many more examples of the system failing.

The methodology behind mainstreaming special needs students into the general education classroom is too often poorly thought out and implemented. It takes too broad of an approach to the special educational needs of many students, and in doing so, only serves to hinder, not help.

Special education was created for a reason. For a population of students with different needs than many of their peers, different abilities which sometimes require a separate and unique forum in which they can learn, an environment better suited to meet their needs. The school system has been caught up in a whirlwind of state standards and testing, coupled with the need to be politically correct, it spells disaster for many of our children.

Over the years I have seen many school districts systematically take away the services our children need and are entitled to. Parents have to fight and go through due process hearings and mediation to get their children the educational services they are by law entitled to receive. The need for socialization has replaced the need for academic achievement. There are many ways to find a social balance between the mainstream and special education programs.

The term least restrictive environment is thrown around quite liberally to loosely justify taking aspects of special education away. The least restrictive environment is supposed to be just that, an environment in which a students social, emotional and educational needs are met without depriving them or restricting them from growth and development at their own pace.

In reality, what many educators are deeming to be the least restrictive environment for a learning disabled or mentally challenged student is, in fact, often the most restrictive and detrimental environment they could be placed in. The very best general education teacher will not be able to meet the needs of a student or students who require a different approach, one they most likely haven’t received the training required to teach. This only leads to frustration for the teacher as well as her students.

Many classrooms themselves are simply too overwhelming for the special needs student. The room may be too colorful, too noisy or have too much movement. The fluorescent lighting itself can cause havoc for a student with sensory integration disorder. 1 in 68 children have been diagnosed with an autistic spectrum disorder. Just those few things I’ve mentioned can be too much for them to handle.

If a students learning challenges are mild enough to be placed in the general education setting and they are thriving, then they are in the right place. If they are not thriving however, if they are overwhelmed and cannot keep up, or they are ostracized because of their differences, then they should not be forced to endure it for the sake of satisfying those who have jumped up on a soapbox of denial. We cannot make them fit in or adjust. The misguided notion which says we are preparing them for the real world by trying to assimilate them into a society that may or may not accept them, only proves to make the transition even more difficult for them.

Many mainstreamed children with special needs leave school feeling ashamed of who they are, feeling they were not good enough. How is that going to help them in this real world everyone keeps talking about? More and more students with special needs are failing to reach graduation, they are held back or worse, many drop out of school entirely. They are not being given the opportunity to learn many of the things they could be, and should be learning in a proper educational setting.

I find it odd that gifted children are given their very own society. There are advanced placement classes specifically for those with academic prowess which surpasses their peers. Why are they there? Because they learn things differently than the other students. Because the regular education setting did not provide them with enough of what they needed to maintain and challenge them. Why do we justify the segregation of these children while forcing others to remain in settings not suited for what is best for them?

Special education should be special education, separate and different from the mainstream, but there should be a bridge for those who are able and ready to cross over it.

As a mother of four children with varying degrees of special needs I have been involved in this debate for years. Since my oldest was two and half years old to be precise. He is now nearing 25 years old. I was trapped on the special education roller coaster for many years, and I must say, I did not enjoy the ride.

I think it best if the last word comes from someone other than myself, I would like to share with you the opinion of a brilliant, young autistic boy . . .

“It is not easy to be placed in a classroom full of kids that are not nice to you, who are sometimes actually mean. They don’t do it when the teachers can see or hear them and for some reason they are believed when they deny the deed. It is not easy to learn from a teacher who does not know how I learn and does not have the time to learn how to teach me. It is not easy to be in a classroom that is filled with colors and movement and noise and bright lights and constant changes.

A classroom best suited for me and many other students is one that is calming. One that does not display too many decorations and the lights don’t hurt my eyes or my ears. The fluorescent lighting in most classrooms make sounds that not everyone can hear. I need a classroom that has stability and structure and I need a teacher that knows the unique way I learn and has the time and training to teach me. I need a teacher that will tell me if there is going to be a change like a substitute or if the furniture will be arranged differently. These things are more important than being put in a classroom that I shouldn’t be in because someone who does not know what it is like to live with these things says I should be.

I resent the idea that these experts are trying to integrate us in with normal kids. Neurotypical does not mean normal. There is no such thing as normal. I do not truly care about what an expert thinks is best for me, I care about what really is best for me and for others just like me. I was in a regular education class and it was like daily torture. Thankfully my mother saw very quickly that something needed to be changed and starting fighting for those changes. I was able to go to a school with teachers who knew how to teach me, that were trained in the different abilities of their students.

There is room for socialization outside of school if we want it. That is something experts do not seem to understand. We DON’T always want it. You look at us walking alone on the playground talking to ourselves or stimming, you see us eating alone at lunch and think that we must be sad and lonely. Don’t you see that it is a choice for many of us? The schools need to stop taking away the freedom of kids like me. I will graduate from high school this year and I plan on continuing to change the way the special education system is structured because it is flawed. Thank you for your time.”

Wilson Cook

My son was 17 years old when he wrote this. He was completely removed from mainstream education in the 9th grade, he attended a special needs charter school through graduation. I attribute much of the success we have had to those special education teachers who took the time to really help him. My son was non-verbal as a child. I was told he would never learn and now he is the one teaching the lessons.

Crystal R. Cook

Sensory Overload

Aug3

I see sounds
and I taste colors
I feel words
like grass beneath
bare feet
I feel your touch
beneath my skin
Always aware of
everything round me
Unheard noises
reverberate inside my head
I feel them in my bones
they flow through my veins
I sense the movement
of air as it surrounds me
It never quiets
never stills
Sometimes
it is all
too much

Today is too much

Crystal R. Cook

Did you know you can change the world?

Aug3

The power to give and help and bring change is within us all. I am not unique; I try to do what I can when I can as do thousands of others everyday. I’ve seen people reach out, perhaps without even realizing they are adding value to humanity. The man who helps an elderly woman empty her groceries in the checkout line at the market has added value to humanity. The woman who extends her hand in friendship to someone without a friend has added value to humanity.

When I was a small child my mother would tell me I was going to make the world a better place and I believed her because she was one who made the world a better place. I learned well watching my mother as I grew. I learned to value others, to share what I could and do no harm. She was selfless, not a martyr by any means, but there were many times she went without for the sake of another. I remember thinking she was an angel. She hid her wings well.

She taught me to value life and love and freedom. She taught me to share and care and have faith. She looked me in my eyes and said she believed in me. She really did think I would make the world a better place and I have tried every day since to do just that. The values and the morals she taught me have been with me all my life through, I’ve always tried to be true to them, in doing so I was being true to myself and honoring my mother. I knew I needed to be an example, I knew if I wanted others to learn the lessons my mother had gifted me with, I had to do more than simply live a good life.

I was open with my faith, never afraid to be witness through both word and deed. Actions often speak louder than words and I wanted to be heard. As the years passed I did what I could to help others, but it wasn’t until I had a child of my own did I truly understand everything my mother had said to me. When I looked at him, I simply knew he would one day change the world. I raised him and taught him as my mother had taught me and he grew to be a good man. I saw the same thing in the eyes of each of my children. They are my greatest contributions to humanity. They showed me a world within our world. I never knew such a place existed until I saw it in their eyes. Two of my sons are challenged, bright and wonderful, but challenged with ups and downs of Autism and Bipolar.

I was told they would never do the things they can do. They have surpassed expectations once had of them and overcome limitations once placed on them. Together we use what we have learned to help others. We volunteer our time and our hearts to not only the autistic community, but the world. Eradicating ignorance is their platform. I spend my days educating, helping and healing parents who are where I once was. They spend time mentoring their children, showing them the potential they have, teaching them to accept themselves and be strong and proud of who they are.

I share all I have learned while learning more still as I continue along this amazing journey. Sometimes I admit to tiring of it all. Answering questions and trying to undo damage and misunderstanding caused by an uniformed world isn’t always easy. My heart has hurt and my tears have fallen, just when I think I cannot make a difference, when that little voice whispers into my heart telling me I’m wasting my time, telling me I am fooling myself to think any of it matters I’ll open my mail to a heartfelt thank you from someone my words have touched.

There was a day I almost quit; divine intervention had other plans for me. I received a letter from a mother I’d helped through a difficult time in her life, in the letter she thanked me and thanked my son. She said everything had changed since we’d last spoken. They found what we had found and she was thanking me for it. In closing, she wrote the words that have kept me going during those moments I’ve found myself wanting to quit. At the bottom of the page it was written, “You and your son have changed our entire world and made it a better place,” I held the note and heard the words my mother once spoke echo in my heart, “You are going to make the world a better place.”

I know this was only one person but if I have helped even one then I have done something worthy in this life. I will never stop doing what I do as long as I am able. I give my time, my heart and my voice. I don’t ask for payment, the thanks and the changes I see are payment enough. Knowing my children are learning how to give of themselves through the example I set for them, the same one my own mother set for me makes me rich in comparison to many. Any gifts God blessed me with I try to use to his glory. My words I gladly give, my time I gladly share, and if there is anything within my power I can do for another I will try.

It is rather odd to say I believe I have added something of value to humanity, but it is what I have spent my life trying to do. I don’t feel deserving of recognition, I don’t feel as though I’ve done anything better or more than any other, but I must admit I feel a satisfying peace within me knowing I have done all I could do in this life to better the lives of those around me.

It doesn’t take an effort of great magnitude to do something of great magnitude. Something seemingly small to us may be of grand importance to another. Donating clothing and blankets, volunteering in the hospitals and shelters, cleaning messes along the walk left by others . . . all these things add immense value to humanity. Everything we do accumulates and becomes a part of our life legacy. I want to look back when I reach the end of my life’s road and know I accomplished something. I want to feel pride in what I have done instead of feeling sorrow for things I could have done and did not.

The value I’ve contributed to humanity will be my crowning joy on that great someday when I stand before the Lord, knowing I am deserving of being in his presence. The value I’ve added to humanity is the contribution I’ve made to the future in the lives of my children. It is my hope they will take all I have tried to teach them and carry it on, teaching others as they themselves give value to humanity.

Perhaps there is more I could do, more I should do, I know I do all I am able. I know I’ll not stop until I must. My mother told me I was going to make the world a better place. My contribution may be a small one in the grand scheme of all things, but it is a contribution nonetheless. Every one of us has immeasurable value to add to humanity, when we think of all just one person can add it is inspiring, when we think of all we can add together if we try it is miraculous. I believe we all have the power to make the world a better place.

Tomorrow I will rise and try to do something good, I will make my contribution and rest my head on my pillow when the night comes and know I tried. I want to look back upon my yesterdays and know they were not wasted. I have been blessed by the many things of value others have given to better humanity; I simply want to give back. My mother is wise and she is wonderful and I will forever be grateful for the example she set for me. My children and their children will be better for it.

I offer my heart, my knowledge, my faith, friendship and understanding. I offer my compassion, my devotion, courage, empathy and my time. I offer myself. My contribution, is teaching my children to value and respect life, to care for the earth and show kindness in all they do.

My contribution to humanity is simply contributing. There is value in trying to do something good to better humanity.

Crystal R. Cook

He is changing the world every day.

Aug1

On page 26 in the book Chicken Soup for the Preteen Soul (Published in 2000), you will find a little piece of my son’s heart. It is his perfect ending to the statement “If I could change the world for the better I would . . . “

He found the call for submissions on a website and sent his thoughts in. His quote was chosen for inclusion and he received an autographed copy of the book and a check for twenty dollars, he was on top of the world, published and rich at 9 years old.

So, on page 26, right below Justin Timberlake and a little girl named Scarlett, you will find these words describing how my son would change the world for the better . . .

“Help people realize that people like me who learn differently and do things differently than them are still really the same underneath it all. We want to be liked and smiled at.

Wilson Cook, nine

This was the same year he received his official diagnosis of Autism. I hope his wish for a better world comes true.

Wilson Wisdom – Autism, spoken VS written word, & anxiety.

Jul29

When Autistics speak, we need to listen . . .

Being autistic, it is sometimes hard for me to put my feelings into words using my voice, but with the written word I can say things much easier since I can see what I say and correct anything that I misspoke before anyone else can see it. Sometimes things that are bothering me I won’t talk about because I can’t put it into spoken words, if I try to, my point either comes off as not as I intended or it is misinterpreted because of the words I used.

To put it in a way easier to understand, when I speak it’s like a game of Scrabble, but instead of letter tiles I have word tiles, if some of the words I need are not available and I have to use similar words to get my point across it can lead to confusion. When I write I have access to all the tiles at once and it’s simple for my thoughts to come out, I still make mistakes, but not as much.

If I feel anxious I tend to deal with it on my own and tell no one since it is even harder to say what I need and I only bring it up when it is either resolved or when I really can’t do it on my own and I need someone else to help me.

When it comes to autism, the people around those with autism need to be vigilant about the mental state of the autistic person. With me, I can handle most things on my own and have an understanding of how my anxiety works (Some forms of my own anxiety require me to let it run its course when none of the other methods I have learned to use work or make it worse) but others may not have this understanding and cannot get through without help, mine comes from years of having to deal with it and with the help of my Mom (Crystal Cook) teaching me methods and helping me through them.

Some younger autistics have not yet learned to put such information to use so it is up to those around them to notice these moments of anxiety and help them through it, if you’re close to someone with autism I am sure you know the signs, I would list some, but not everyones signals are the same. For me personally it is just an anxious feeling or the feeling of dread or just full on confusion, each one has its own type of “Cure” and sometimes I just have to wait it out. If a person hasn’t figured them out on their own it is up to you to teach them to identify and conquer them.

For the past week I have had an anxious feeling that have been growing little by little each day. I believe it is cause by a mixture of changes happening around me and some just regular random anxiety that comes with the disorder I have. I have done every one of my usual “Cures” (Including talking to my Mom) and none of them have worked, that leaves letting it continue running its course and try again later if it continues to long.

Remember what I have said about keeping an eye on an Autistics anxiety tells, if you don’t help them discover them and learn how to conquer them they might never learn on their own.

Wilson Cook