Autism at lunch!

On Friday, I had lunch with a most charming but energetic lunch mate. Most lunch times involve actually eating - but not necessarily so with Jeffrey! With Jeffrey, consuming lunch is an after thought to the more exciting opportunities food presents. Juice boxes make superior vehicles for shooting liquid great distances; dipping sauces are akin to the ink well and the quill, with the table ever available to write upon; and hurling items just to see whither they may land is never a boring activity.

Jeffrey is a delightful boy who brings to mind a human pinball machine. As he moves through his environment, his constant curiosity compels him to tap, grab, knock over, climb onto, or pull at whatever is within arms or legs length away. He bangs, clangs, and bumps his way around - and then, unexpectedly, calms, looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes and asks sweetly if I would "pop cheek" meaning can we blow bubbles that will pop on his cheek. I tell him "of course!" and he smiles contentedly and settles into eating his banana, but on this day the delicious looking chicken and mashed potatoes his mom sent, aren't touched. He remains quiet until a delighted staff announces the amazing accomplishment of another student eating a piece carrot for the first time, and Jeffrey erupts with a rhythm, banging his wrist on the table, knocking his knees from below and singing a tune. The raisins in his lunch go sailing across the room, so its time to pack up the lunch and head off to the bathroom. On the way, there is a picnic table, a small trampoline outside another classroom, and the drinking fountain. Jeffrey puts away his lunch box, after first somersaulting across the floor, then throws open the door to maximize the bang against the wall, and runs headlong toward the bathroom. But first he climbs on the picnic table, a few jumps on the trampoline, on to the drinking fountain to take a mouthful of water, spit it onto the ground and then races into the boys room. Amazing energy! When finished, he runs back to the classroom, all the while I am close on his heels, and we together arrive at the large bottle of bubbles placed high on the shelf, out of reach. He is so excited and happy with the anticipation of bubbles, that he races back out the door, banging it sufficiently, onto the picnic table, back to the benches and then waits quietly while I begin to blow bubbles. Soon we are joined by another bubble lover, and the two boys share their absolute delight in trying to catch bubbles blowing all around.

Such innocent fun! Don't we all wish life should be so clear and simple? As I return to my office, I never cease to marvel at how lucky I am to be able to leave my desk, even if only for a short time, and be with the students. Working with people with autism is very much a 'zen-like' atmosphere - relishing and experience the present. They are living in the moment, and usually with little thought to what's next or what came before. They manage to incorporate 'mindfulness' into their every day activities without much effort. Gives a different meaning to having presence of mind, which most of us are always striving for. Just another reminder that we probably learn more from them than they from us.