Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

This post is really on behalf of my 19-year-old son who is deaf and just right under the threshold for qualifying for state assistance for autistic adults. He definitely is not like a regular deaf person. A friend of mine has two autistic sons, one whom, unfortunately, is no longer with us, and I notice traits in her high-functioning autistic son that is also in mine.

Now to get to the subject of this post�

The frustration that stems from having a child with special needs is how other people react to that child. Yes, there are certainly things that are challenging in learning what works and what doesn’t for the child as the child grows up. But other people »å´Ç²Ô’t realize this particular child is not like other children, and they will make judgment calls about the child, and they will also come up to the parent to criticize their parenting techniques. So really, it’s other people who expect every child and adult to be “normalâ€� that frustrates me the most.

To be fair, most people are understanding when you explain why the child/adult didn’t act in accordance with what is socially acceptable. And really, if someone sees a person with an obvious special need, they will show a huge amount of patience and compassion. For example, when my mother-in-law was visiting last year, a lot of people showed a tremendous amount of patience when we wheeled her around town. So if people can see the special need, they do give the parent and the child a lot of grace.

Unfortunately, being deaf is one of those disabilities that people can’t see. This has caused quite a few unpleasant encounters for me and for him over the years. The most recent one happened this weekend. We were at a family-friendly place where they have train rides. There are no barriers that come down to stop someone from crossing the tracks whenever the train comes through a certain pathway. (They have barriers in another section of the place, but they »å´Ç²Ô’t in this specific spot where the incident occurred.) My son and I were leaving a certain exhibit when the train was coming. I could hear the train coming and the bell dinging. My son, however, didn’t hear these things. He was too far ahead of me for me to run after him in time to pull him back. (If I were to run after him, I would have ended up on the tracks by the time the train was crossing the path, and that would have made a bad situation worse.) I couldn’t call out to him, of course. He wouldn’t have heard me. So all I could do was watch. I could see he was walking fast enough to avoid the train, so I wasn’t worried about him. But I knew people would get mad at him for “ignoringâ€� the train’s whistles. And sure enough, there was a bit of a commotion. I was too far to hear what was being said. All I know is that the man running the train gave him the middle finger.

My son had no idea what he did wrong, and my husband and I ended up explaining why the man was angry at him. I mean, I get it. I know why. But I heard the whistle. I knew the train was coming. All I could do was warn my son to stop and look up and down the train tracks in the future. If I had thought this was going to happen, I would have warned him in advance. The problem is that I can’t warn him about every single event that will pop up because I never know when these events will happen. All I can do is deal with these things as they come. What I would love (but won’t happen) is for people to stop assuming that everyone can hear. That way, if someone shows no sign that they »å´Ç²Ô’t hear a train whistle, it’s because they »å´Ç²Ô’t hear it, not because they are ignoring it.

I do realize that even parents of children who have special needs that are visible face challenges. That friend I mentioned earlier got grief from a nurse in a hospital because her low-functioning autistic son would not be quiet. I knew this son. Yes, he was an adult, but he could not sit still and be quiet. He needed to constantly move around, and a lot of times, he would make sounds. He didn’t do this to be annoying. He wasn’t trying to upset people. This is just how he was. And even though the nurse could tell he was different, she didn’t give my friend grace. He is the one who, unfortunately, passed away.

As frustrating as it is for me to watch the way my son is treated when these things pop up, and as frustrating as it is to deal with people’s criticisms over how I parent, it must be even more frustrating for my son. He lives in a world without the subtle cues those of us who hear get while we grow up. He deals with a perspective of someone who is just under that autism line. He does not experience life the same way most people do, and he never will. I realize people will make their judgments without taking into consideration that there might be some special needs going on with him. He does get frustrated that people expect him to hear when he can’t. I just tell him that he should take into consideration that they »å´Ç²Ô’t know he can’t hear so he should let them know. Not everyone will take the time to read the message on his phone or on a piece of paper, but for those who will take the time, it has helped. It’s not perfect. In a perfect world, people would stop and realize they »å´Ç²Ô’t know all the facts so they »å´Ç²Ô’t jump to conclusions.