Temple, My Captain

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to meet Temple Grandin…which is when I came about as close to fan-girling as I ever hope to. It was like meeting Matt Damon (well, not really). Or John Krasinski (no, nevermind). Or Ellen! But better.

If you don’t know [of] Temple Grandin - she’s a lot of things…among them: an activist, an author, an inventor/engineer, and a professor of animal science. She’s genuinely brilliant and her innovative designs of curved chutes and humane handling systems for livestock (as they proceed to slaughter) are used by 50% of the cattle industry in the United States. (Important bonus: she fought her way into a male dominated field and has been notably successful.) I don’t follow the cattle industry though and can’t relate to livestock in the unique ways she can, so these are not the things that induced my nearly-adolescent fan-girl behavior (though I do find them impressive). Temple is someone with autism who is able to speak about being autistic, explain many of the attributes, and offer incredible insight. She’s no longer the only one who can do this (others are similarly gifted), but she was the first – and she did so loudly (literally and figuratively). The woman is a legit pioneer…minus the stereotypical pioneer-woman dress & bonnet. (Temple totally digs western wear. Hates dresses.) 

I could easily go on and on about her, but I'd like you to return to this blog...so I'm lovingly and severely editing myself.

(This is Temple signing my book!)

She also grew up in the 1950s and 1960s when even less was known about autism. She didn't speak until she was 3 ½ and the doctors advised her mother to institutionalize her. Her mother (also an impressive person by the way) strongly disagreed. Temple has written numerous books and there’s even a movie, Temple Grandin, starring Claire Danes…who did a bang up job of portraying Temple. Look her up, read her stuff, watch the movie. She's worth learning about, truly.

So back to the occasion I recently had to briefly meet her and hear her speak… I stood in a line to have her autograph a book for me, and a quote of hers (that autism makes people “different, not less”) which I had printed for Tyler. She asked me (TEMPLE GRANDIN asked ME) who Tyler was, and I said he was a former student of mine. She asked if he was verbal (TEMPLE AND I WERE STRAIGHT UP CONVERSING)…and how he spends his days. I know for certain that I said he wasn't verbal, but I've no idea what else I said to her…I may well have spoken on the virtues of Havarti cheese. I have no recollection.

Her lecture was great and the Q&A portion was especially entertaining. The place was flush with aspies and others with autism…so watching their exchanges and behaviors + being in the minority (always an important experience) was fascinating.

 It was an honor to meet her, and a thrill to check this item off from my Life List.

This is the final product I gave to Tyler and his family, which his father promptly appropriated for his office :). 


3/28/15 (After seeing nearly 100 people have viewed this post...)
Thank you for taking the time to read this! I'd love to know what you think - please leave a comment below...even if only to say you too, love Havarti cheese :).

The Same Is The Same Is The Same Is The Best

Folks with autism tend to thrive in an environment packed with routine and structure, and in many cases…”thrive” largely refers to a lack of outbursts or undesirable behaviors.

Routine and sameness is comforting because they know what’s going to happen, they know the drill. If something very different from their norm happens, it can be crazy stressful. And since much of the autistic population struggles to communicate, the stress shows up in their behavior. Really though…this is true for pretty much everyone, isn't it? Isn’t this why we yell at other people while sealed inside our own cars during traffic hell? Or why we snap at others when they do something different than what we had mind? 

…Why we throw a tantrum when Olia discontinues our favorite shade of hair color? (It’s happening RIGHT NOW – I can't find Medium Ash Brown to save my life.)

What’s different though – is that we (typical folks) (I can’t stand the word “normal” in this context) – often curb or adjust our behavior to be socially appropriate or polite when we’re unhappy. We don’t always show we’re upset, we use filters. Most people with autism don’t own a filter and tend to process situations quite literally – and then respond in a similarly literal fashion. Behavior, especially for those who are non-verbal = communication. Behavior = communication.

My buddy, Tyler, knows me from our autism program. We spent our days in a sweet little blue room (as well as other familiar places on campus…a playground, a multipurpose room, a computer lab), and our days and weeks were scheduled…slated…orderly. For Tyler – that room, that place – is where I belonged. I was in a grocery store near his house once…shopping, as you do…and I felt someone staring at me. I turned, and Tyler was about 10 yards away. His head was tilted and his brow was quizzical and deeply furrowed – he was genuinely confused to see me outside of our blue room. I was happy to see him and walked over to say hello to him and his father. I didn't belong in the store though…and Tyler pushed me away. The next day, in the blue room, it was normal…it was OK…and we were straight.

It’s the same as taking those groceries I bought in the store where I didn't belong and putting them away…but putting the pasta in the linen closet, the milk in the bathroom, the apples in a dresser drawer, and the shampoo in the kitchen. That’s not where those things belong.

Tyler adapts incredibly well and now (over time), he knows when my car is at his house when he arrives home from his day program or church – it means we’re about to go somewhere. He’ll chuck his book-bag at his sweet mother, get in my car whether I’m already in it or not, and though it may be my wishful imagination – he seems genuinely happy to see me. We no longer see each other each day in the blue room, so this is our new norm. When we return to his home after our time together though, and I walk him inside - the pasta is in the linen closet all over again. His parents and his sister belong in that house, I do not. And each time, Tyler takes me by the arm and drags me to the front door, just so he’s clear…communicating…through his behavior, that I’m in the wrong place.

The Reason

In the past year, I’ve come to know a truly lovely guy called Tyler. Tyler is a midwestern white (that’s probably redundant) kid in his 20s; he has long-lashed blue eyes and curly brown hair. He also has a toothy mischievous grin – a characteristic so notable that it stands on its own (not in a series of identifiers). Tyler digs music and movies, and has a particular affection for Disney productions (it's a little odd for his age, let him have it). He prefers VCRs over DVD players and has a wicked penchant for ranch dressing. He’s quite close to his immediate family and has a special relationship with Billie, his doll of a grandmother. If something is funny, he laughs. If he’s pissed, he scowls. When he’s being ignored, he craves attention. So it’s all pretty typical. Human. Sacred, but typical.

The thing is, Tyler is anything but typical. To me, he’s exceptional – but I’m biased. And since you don’t know him, what he can be for you (through me) -- is a provider of examples. An explainer of autism. To be clear, the autism that Tyler can shed some light on will be Tyler’s autism. He has the primary qualifiers to be diagnosed as autistic, but beyond that…Tyler is his own man. He’s not *exactly* like any other individual with autism…hence the saying, if you’ve met one person with autism – you’ve met one person with autism.

I’ve been gifted with the experience of working with many individuals who live their lives on the autism spectrum. Like Tyler, they are each unique – and like Tyler, they each provide some fantastic examples of what autism is, but also what it isn’t. What I hope to do here is share what I know and what I’m learning through Tyler and others in a relatable and bite-sized manner - autism hors d’oeuvres, if you will. I have 3 reasons for writing. 1) To help others understand and/or relate to autism in a way that will allow them to interact with this population with acceptance and compassion. 2) To provide company through content for individuals with autism + their friends and family. 3) I’m selfish. These people (Tyler and company) are amazing and I want you to know about them.  

Let’s be clear. I am not an expert or licensed clinician. I am a social worker who works with this population and has, in various capacities, for over ten years. I have autism-specific training and education and this is totally my jam.  Still – not an expert.

Interested? Awesome. Me too.