Many Meetings

The first Friday of October was here, and it was the day I went to Horizon to speech to Mrs. Lindgren’s high school literature class about my experiences after Horizon as an autistic man. My granddad drove me, as I had forgotten to bring my medications home, and I got there buzzing in at the front door, and then went into the main office. There I met my old high school, middle school, and elementary school principal, Sharyl Kennedy. We said hello, and I filled her in on my events of the seven years. Then a short woman with shoulder-length brown hair arrived as though looking for me. She smiled and said, “Hi, are you Ben?”

                “Yes,” I said.

                “Hi, I’m Mrs. Lindgren. I’m the high school literature teacher. Mrs. Asher’s told me about you. Thanks for coming. If you would like to just follow me downstairs?”

                I followed her and we stopped at an empty classroom, in which was my former high school teacher, Vicki Asher, looking the same as she had always done since I was here.

                “Hi, Ben, you can come on in here if you like.”

                I walked in and sat down. Mrs. Asher explained to me that her class was learning in a different classroom and asked me what had been happening since I last saw her. I told her about joining the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network, and how I had been pursuing a degree in Cultural Studies, which after school I hoped to use to help the autistic community. She said, “Well, you already know how to do that, not that a degree in Cultural Studies wouldn’t help.”

                I told her also about trying to start the first ever autistic student club at UCM, and how so many autistics were reluctant to join for fear of “coming out of the autism closet” for both to others and themselves. She said, “Well, it’s like the five-stages of grief; not everyone deals with it the same way. Sooner or later it’s best that they embrace it sooner or later and accept the strengths and challenges that come with it.”

                Soon another teacher arrived, one with short blonde hair, who I remembered very well: my former art and music teacher. She led me down to a room, the Blackbox Theater, explaining excitedly how she was teaching drama since the last two years. Suddenly Mrs. Asher, followed by Mrs. Lindgren and my former school counselor Brad Epsten came in and started setting up chairs in front of the stage. Mrs. Asher took a stool and set it right behind the top of the steps.

                “Is that where…”

                “We were going to have you sit here if that’s alright,” Mrs. Asher answered for me.

                I got up and sat myself down on the stool. Soon nearly two dozen people showed up, not including Mrs. Asher, Mrs. Lindgren, Mr. Epsten, a tall plaid-dressed man with a mustache, and another one of my former high school teachers from eleventh grade, Alice Jones. The students sat down, their eyes all on me.

                Mrs. Asher cleared her throat and spoke.

                “So, it turns out we were going to have the entire high school class come and talk to you, just so they can learn for when they get out of Horizon how to navigate life outside school, not just as people on the autism spectrum, but people with different intellectual abilities in general, so if you could go ahead and introduce yourself?”

                I took a deep breath, and said, “Hello, my name is Ben Edwards. I am twenty-five years old and I am an autistic man. I go to the University of Central Missouri, and I am majoring in Cultural Studies. I also write two autism blogs, and I am a member of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network of Kansas City, and I am trying to start a student organization for autistic students at UCM.” Mrs. Asher turned on her eye-pad and aimed it at me. “So, with that in mind, what would you like to know?”

                A student in the front right row raised his hand.

                “Yes?”

                “What is it like for you to have autism?

                “Well, that is a good question. I think the main difference between me and other non-autistic people is that I tend to sense things differently, and that sometimes impacts my learning, though I have learned I can do things to accommodate for it and learn just like the rest of my peers.”

                Mrs. Jones raised her hand.

                “Yes?”

                “I have a question, Ben. Could you tell us a little bit about these sensory differences and how they are for you?”

                “Ok, well, the thing is, I experience so many things differently. Different pieces of art or music may stand out more to me, and I may be more receptive to certain colors or sounds or tastes.”

                A student raised their hand.

                “Why do they call it the autism spectrum?”

                “That’s a good question. To me it’s because all autistic people are different, not so much in a linear way, but they do have various sets of abilities. Some would not be speaking up here but might be using a type machine. Some may not go off to college as I did but might find other work to do. What I’ve found is those with certain abilities may be able to help those who don’t have those abilities, but regardless I think all autistic people can contribute something and we together are a great voice for ourselves.”

                People clapped around the room. Another student, a young male on the left-hand side raised his hand.

                Mrs. Jones raised her hand again.

                “I have another question, well more of a comment really, I mean, you never used your autism as an excuse not to do things, I mean, you said in your Student of the Year Award speech when you were here that we can give someone the key, but they have to unlock the door, so it seems for you that we can give you something, but you in the end have to be the one yourself who does the work.”

                “Yes, that is true. And as for the fact that I never used my autism as an excuse, there is also a flip-side to that, that I did not want to admit my autism, even to myself, and it took me some time before I was truly willing to embrace it, and accept it as part of who I am.”

                People clapped again. Then Mr. Epsten raised his hand.

                “I had a question, Ben. Could you tell us what is it of Horizon that you felt prepared you for later in life, like what we did that we should keep doing that could help our other students here for when they graduate and they go out into the world on their own?

                “Yes.  I felt one thing that Horizon did was it prepared me socially in way that I did not have before. Just very subtle ways the school did things helped me learn others' thoughts and ideas that they don’t always say. And in one case, I really think I learned to write well, using lessons later that I learned here, that helps me now that I do my blogs. I would also say the drama classes helped me very well, for I learned very well public speaking, which helped me later as I started an autistic student group at Johnson County Community College, so those of all things I felt really helped me at Horizon.”

                Another round of applause went around the room. Mrs. Jones raised her hand again.

                “Yes?”

                “Well, you’ve said very well what Horizon helped you with, but were there any other ways we could have done things differently that would have made you better prepared for the real world?

                “I have to say after high school there were some times I struggled, a lot of it in classes that I would sometimes drop out of [at JCCC], particularly in math and so on, but I do feel that all that has happened to me is the reason I am here today, and if I would have gotten help when I needed it sometimes, I feel I could have avoided certain struggles I had.”

                Mr. Epsten spoke.

                “So that goes as a lesson for all of us here: ask for help when you need it.

                The room applauded once more.

                Another student, sitting on the left in the first row, raised his hand.

                “Yes?”

                “Were you ever influenced by Marie Montessori, the founder of the Montessori school system?”

                “I can’t exactly say I was because I don’t really know much of Montessori, though I do believe I’ve heard of this person. It is possible that I was because our paths may have crossed somewhere and Montessori may have influenced what later shaped how I think, so…”

                Mrs. Jones raised her hand again.

                “I wanted to ask about jobs, since you had a job since you were here in high school, I mean what can you tell these students about jobs for when they go off into the real world?”

                “Well, yes, when I was here, I had a volunteer job. After I got out of high school in my first year of college, I got a job at Corinth Hen House grocery stores, sacking groceries and taking them outside for customers who wanted it. Sometimes I didn’t always understand what was being asked of me, but I learned you can thrive at a job if you do what you’re asked, be polite, be on time, and ask for help when you need to.”

                Mrs. Asher raised her hand.

                “I’m sorry, Ben, could you repeat those four things for us."

                She aimed the iPad more at me.

                “Do what you’re asked, be polite, on time, and ask for help when you need it.”

                “Ok, thank you.”

                The room applauded once more.

                A student in the second row on the left raised her hand.

                “Yes.”

                “Did you ever feel in college like you were cast aside?"

                “Well, the thing is, I don’t think I was so much cast aside as I cast myself aside. Often times I just worried people would reject me because of my autism that I didn’t do so much with them. It took me a while to trust them and be comfortable around them. Eventually though I started my own social network of the JCCC Autism Spectrum Support Group at JCCC where I felt very accepted.

                A student in the back of the right side raised his hand.

                “Do you believe you would have done these student groups if you didn’t have autism?”

                “You know I don’t think I would. I may not have seen what goes on with autistic students and may not have realized they needed help.”

                The same girl in the second row on the right raised her hand again.

                “If you could choose not to have autism, would you.”

                “The truth is I don’t think I could.  I couldn’t imagine myself without autism. It would just be like trying to imagine myself as a different race or a different gender, and I don’t think I could picture that.”

                The whole room clapped again. Then Mrs. Asher spoke.

                “Thank you, Ben for your great words. We’re out of time now, but I just wanted to say we always knew you were headed towards greatness, and we wanted to thank you for coming here to share your great understanding and awareness, and we wish you luck wherever you go.”

                The whole room clapped again. I got up and went over to the door.  As the students left, they shook my hand and said, “Thank you.”

                As they all left, Mr.  Epsten approached me and said, “Well thanks, Ben. I also wanted to let you know I’ve enjoyed reading your blog. If you have time, would you like to take a quick tour of the school?”

                “Sure.”

                We went upstairs, and he showed me around the old floor that I had taken classes on. It was very much the same except there was a brand new wooden floor and one of the old rooms had now been converted into a “panic room,” where stressed out students could go to relax anytime. He told me he heard that many autistic people were uncomfortable saying they had autism but were also alright with saying they had ADD. We also talked about the tendency I mentioned of being reluctant to get help. He said, “I kind of think if you’re not willing to get help, no one can make you do it.”

                We finished the tour and I got ready to leave. We said goodbye and he thanked me for coming there. I met my granddad on the far east parking lot and got in his car. He said, “So how did it go?”

                “Good.  I think I did really well.”

                “Well good. I knew you would. You’ve helped a whole lot of people today, more than you’ll ever know.”

                I got home saw Mrs. Asher sent me a Facebook message thanking me for my words. Then I went down to Starbuck’s, where I got two new bottle caps for my collection from my drinks. I got back and finished my food journal entry for my Anthropology of Food class before five o’clock. I also found out where Spencer’s house was for the ASAN meeting.

 

                The next morning after breakfast, cuddled up in a blanket on the couch with Peter in the living room, remembering fondly how I used to love hanging out in that living room back in high school when the seasons got colder, and I spent every day at that house. Soon afterwards I went to Spencer’s house where my grandparents drove me, as I still did not have my medication, and meet him and several other ASAN-KC members, who it felt really great to be in the company of, and we prepared a bit for our presentation at JCCC. Teigan and Marshall arrived, and Teigan told me how she planned to attend UCM next semester because she heard the disability services at UMKC were very second-rate, and Vocational Rehab didn’t want to pay for her to go to KU, which was outside her home state of Missouri. I also heard Marshall mention to Teigan a young man named Riccardo, like I had gone to school with, who he liked very much and learned was also autistic. Eventually, when over half a dozen ASAN members had gotten there, we worked on deciding what we would say at the conference. We decided to say that, “the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network was started in 2006 by Ari Ne’eman and Scott Robertson, and that our chapter in Kansas City had grown to twenty active members, and we have since partnered with the Autism Society of the Heartland; our mission was advocating greater equality and inclusion for autistic people; run by and for autistics and their allies; we also used identity-first language (most of us anyway) to indicate that autism is not something we believe you can separate from an autistic person; we believed in neurodiversity-that all different neurological identities (Down syndrome, dyslexia, autism) were equal, and we were willing to work with different disability organizations to promote access for people with all abilities; we also agreed we would not answer questions about bodily functions, such as ‘why does my kid smear poop on the wall’ or ‘can you have sex?’” Soon however, my grandparents texted me saying they wanted to get home before it got to dark, so fifteen minutes later I told my group and had to leave and said goodbye. I got back and went down to down to Starbuck’s. Then I got back and hung out with Peter while I worked on my plarn belt.

                The next day I put away all my recyclables that I brought to store at home and scooped up Peter’s litter box. I also realized that Mom had left a new bottle cap for my collection on my bedside table. I went back to school with my grandmom and granddad, and when I got back, I took a nap for an hour and forty-five minutes. Then I went to Planet Sub with Jessie, Josh, Collin, and Drake. After I got back, I returned my library books. Then I ran on the treadmill for about half an hour and saw Jessie while I was at the Rec Center running on the track. I got back and saw Sara, who asked if I got a new haircut, and I said I probably just forgot to comb it, and she teased me saying that was probably the case. I got back to my dorm and talked to Granddad who was a little optimistic about the prospects of the group with Tom, Teigan, me, and others at the UCM group being able to attract more students for my group, which he said was great. My dad also agreed that the four or so of us should be a really good start for the group.