I believe part of the reason my son has done so well is the way I have used words to challenge him. An issue with autism is that people on the spectrum tend to be very literal and concrete. I addressed this by using puns, absurdities and homonyms. He might talk about a cheetah and I will comment it is not very nice to call someone or something a cheater, without proof. It forces him out of a narrow mode of thought and requires him to cognise what is being discussed, consider the change, choose a path and integrate. The results have been very good but not perfect.
Flash back to my teen years, when I was incredibly rebellious, self-obssessed and under-performing academically. Well-meaning relatives and teachers assigned to vocational guidance, kept up a constant refrain about my potential and what I was capable of if I applied myself. In all of this, I heard one thing, not that I could do better, not that I screwing up and not that I was failing. What I heard or what I chose to hear was that I was a failure and that was devastating and was reinforced with each repetition of the litany, “You could be doing so much better.”
I offer this story as an example of why I hold that the truth is less important than what is perceived as the truth and this is the flip side to the positives of language.“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” runs the old children’s rhyme. What a lie! Xavier is likely to forget the fact of my anger long before he forgets the words that accompanied the anger. In our moments of anger, we often fail to control what we say. No, wrong! We often fail to control what we say, even when not angry. No one who back in my teen years, tried to find a way to inspire me by trying to convince me of my potential, knew they were reinforcing my unbelief in myself.
Xave is sensitive to teasing. This is at least in part because of his autistic nature. If I greet him in the morning with “Hello, Francis Xavier,” he will give me what for a nine year old is a basso profundo growl and inform me he is not Francis Xavier, he is Xavier. It goes to his identity and by teasing him with the name of the Jesuit saint, I shake his certainty about himself in a way that he cannot tolerate. When I tease him by calling him by his Elvish name, “Rundle Muffin-breath,” there is no issue.
It is so crucial when he does something like leave a tap on, not to express anger with words that so many teachers use when a child errs, “Are you stupid?” It is necessary to say if anything, “leaving the tap on was stupid.” Every interpreation of every word, whether that interpretation is correct or incorrect, will make or destroy the sense of self-worth my son has.
Another thing many do not do, and I am as guilty as anyone, is explain or describe alternatives. “Don’t poor spilled sugar down the bloody drain, mate!” Walk away, action rebuked, parenting done and dusted. Last time he poors spilled sugar down the drain. Two days later, the kid spills sugar and dumps it in the cat’s bowl. Let me defend Xave’s honour by saying he had done neither of these things and that they are examples pulled out of thin air. The essence of this is summed up in the tale of Saint Perergrine who was crossing a bridge, when someone came up tp him and slapped him. Being a devout Christian, he turned the other cheek and was slapped across that cheek. He then picked up his antagonist and threw him in the river, muttering, “Jesus didn’t say what to do after turning the other cheek.” All to often we rebuke, stop there, and do not guide.
I am not going to call this a minefield, but I am acutely aware that the formation of my son’s character will take place through my words. What he is will be shaped by the legacy that echoes in his ears, the legacy not of what I said, but of what he believes I meant.