An Autistic Voyage through the Primary School Playground
Being a parent to an autistic child is a bit like being a first-time sailor lost at sea. You're in choppy waters, the compass is spinning faster than a fidget spinner, and the map might as well be a Jackson Pollock painting. Welcome aboard, mate!
Meet my co-captain in this adventure, Mr. H, a vibrant, 5.5-year-old human Wikipedia of all things insect-related, who also happens to be autistic. School life for him is like trying to follow a tango when the rest of the class is doing the hokey pokey.
Let's start with the playground, a swirling vortex of chaos that operates under a mysterious set of unwritten rules and hierarchies. It's where careers of future politicians begin and where snack trading makes Wall Street look like a preschool game. And then, there's Mr. H’s, meticulously organising pebbles by size, fascinated by the uniformity in chaos
Now, consider the enigma of schoolyard games. Mr. H was tagged "it" once in a game and stood frozen in the middle of the playground. Not because he didn't understand the game, but because he interpreted "freeze tag" a little too literally.
Then there's the puzzling dynamics of 'playground politics’. It's a barter system that's harder to comprehend than the plot of 'Inception'. Little Johnny could agree to go on the swing later in exchange for first dibs on the slide now. There's Samantha, who promises to save a spot in line for art class for a chance to play with Sarah's brand new glitter pens. Meanwhile, Mr. H, with his perfectly cubed cheese and crackers, is busy deciphering why anyone would ever engage in such complex negotiations when they could enjoy the simple, mathematical perfection of his snack.
Let's not forget the linguistic labyrinth of schoolyard slang. While the other kids communicate in a cryptic mix of TikTok trends and Minecraft lingo, Mr. H is busy explaining why beetles have exoskeletons. Do the other kids care? Not really. Does that stop Mr. H? Not at all.
Even the simple task of choosing a buddy for a school trip turns into a 'Game of Thrones' episode. Alliances shift, negotiations commence, and at times, it ends in tears. Mr. H, on the other hand, is more than content with partnering with his favourite captive grasshopper - yes, you read it right, a grasshopper. It's quiet, predictable and won't argue about which seat they should take on the bus.
But let me tell you, amidst the whirlwind of peculiar playground norms, there are moments of pure, unadulterated brilliance. When a squabble over the rules of hopscotch turns into an impromptu maths lesson, courtesy of Mr. H. Or when a “boring” class is suddenly lit up with Mr. H’s fascinating facts about Ancient Egyptian beetles.
So, while Mr. H might struggle to navigate the rapid currents of playground social norms, he's certainly not drifting aimlessly. He's sailing his own unique course, learning to tackle the waves in his own time, and in his own way. And believe me, there's nothing more rewarding than seeing your kid ride the high seas of childhood, turning every challenge into an opportunity to shine.
So, to all the parents out there with their own Mr. Hs, remember, we might be lost at sea, but we're in this together. And who knows? We might find a new, uncharted island full of beetles and pebbles. Now, wouldn't that be an adventure?
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