Being alone isn't necessarily a lonely place....especially for a person with Asperger's Syndrome.
When my son was in elementary school, I stood outside the school fence during recess so I could silently observe Stephen's interaction with his peers. I scanned the playground looking for my peculiar son among groups of boistrous children enjoying the brisk fall afternoon weather. I knew better than to look for Stephen on the basketball court or with kids playing games of skill or coordination. I searched the swings and slide, hoping he might be playing with someone there, yet I couldn't see my husky, blond haired boy.
Then I noticed a small figure walking alone on the perimeter of the playgound.
Even from a distance, Stephen's unusual gait was unmistakable: he stared at the ground, walked on his toes and made strange gestures with his hands, as he was immersed in his own world. My eyes welled up with tears and I watched the stark contrast of my son's solitary figure juxtaposed with his peers who enthusiatically participated in normal playground activites. I couldn't bear to watch for long - my heart ached for a son I couldn't force into children's social circles.
When Stephen arrived home later that day, I took him into my arms and hugged him tightly, wishing that somehow I could protect him from the pain of being rejected on the playground. I desperately wanted to find a way to include my son during recess so he wouldn't have to wander around by himself. When I asked him why he didn't play with anyone on the playground, Stephen's response startled me: without a hint of dismay or regret, my son told me that he preferred to be alone at recess.
I was incredulous that Stephen's solitary walk was a self-imposed reverie from the school day. When I pressed him further he explained that he needed to be alone so he could think. As I tried to make sense of why any child would prefer to be alone during recess, I recalled reading an essay describing the unique challenges kids with Aspergers face during the school day. Asperger's expert Tony Atwood wrote:
Stephen method of coping with his stressful school day was to escape during recess. Although it still saddened me as a mother, his need for solitude was understandable when I considered Tony Atwood's description of the complex issues Asperger's kids face at school.
I learned an important lesson about my son that day: I cannot view Stephen's life through the filter of my emotions, my wants or my needs. My son has been wired differently from birth and I must climb inside his head to understand what will make him happy and successful in life.
At times I worry about a child who prefers to be alone in his room and has little need for human contact. My son joins us for dinner and other family activities, but he does so only out of obligation and not the desire to spend time with us. I wonder about the quality of my son's life when he moves into his own apartment - something he wants when he graduates from college and gets a job ("I don't want to be a weird 30-year-old guy living in my mom's basement", he has often told me). Will Stephen develop friends and want to socialize with them? Will he ever want to have a romantic relationship? Will he maintain relationships with family members when he no longer lives under the same roof? Or will Stephen retreat further into his Aspergers world, prefering the simplicity of solitude rather than the stress of navigating complex social situations?
When I begin to worry about my son's path, I revisit the lesson I learned from watching Stephen on the playground and remind myself that his happiness may be found on life's perimeter.
When my son was in elementary school, I stood outside the school fence during recess so I could silently observe Stephen's interaction with his peers. I scanned the playground looking for my peculiar son among groups of boistrous children enjoying the brisk fall afternoon weather. I knew better than to look for Stephen on the basketball court or with kids playing games of skill or coordination. I searched the swings and slide, hoping he might be playing with someone there, yet I couldn't see my husky, blond haired boy.
Then I noticed a small figure walking alone on the perimeter of the playgound.
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| Stephen, 18 months, enjoying solitude on the playground. |
When Stephen arrived home later that day, I took him into my arms and hugged him tightly, wishing that somehow I could protect him from the pain of being rejected on the playground. I desperately wanted to find a way to include my son during recess so he wouldn't have to wander around by himself. When I asked him why he didn't play with anyone on the playground, Stephen's response startled me: without a hint of dismay or regret, my son told me that he preferred to be alone at recess.
I was incredulous that Stephen's solitary walk was a self-imposed reverie from the school day. When I pressed him further he explained that he needed to be alone so he could think. As I tried to make sense of why any child would prefer to be alone during recess, I recalled reading an essay describing the unique challenges kids with Aspergers face during the school day. Asperger's expert Tony Atwood wrote:
"As with their classroom peers, a child with an Autistic Spectrum Disorder has to learn the traditional educational curriculum but they encounter additional learning experiences and sources of stress than do other children in their class. They have an additional curriculum, namely the social curriculum. They have to use their intellectual reasoning to determine the social rules of the classroom and the playground. Other children do not have to consciously learn social integration skills but these children have to decipher the social cues and codes and cognitively determine what to do and say in social situations. Often their primary feedback is criticism for an error with little recognition from others when they make the correct response. Learning only from your mistakes is not the most efficient way to learn. Thus these children have to concentrate on an extra curriculum that leaves them intellectually and emotionally exhausted at the end of the school day. They also have difficulty reading and responding to the emotional signals of the teacher and other children, coping with the complex socializing, noise and chaos of the playground or lunch room, the unexpected changes in the school routine and the intense sensory experiences of a noisy classroom. Throughout the school day they rarely have an opportunity to relax."
Stephen method of coping with his stressful school day was to escape during recess. Although it still saddened me as a mother, his need for solitude was understandable when I considered Tony Atwood's description of the complex issues Asperger's kids face at school.
I learned an important lesson about my son that day: I cannot view Stephen's life through the filter of my emotions, my wants or my needs. My son has been wired differently from birth and I must climb inside his head to understand what will make him happy and successful in life.
At times I worry about a child who prefers to be alone in his room and has little need for human contact. My son joins us for dinner and other family activities, but he does so only out of obligation and not the desire to spend time with us. I wonder about the quality of my son's life when he moves into his own apartment - something he wants when he graduates from college and gets a job ("I don't want to be a weird 30-year-old guy living in my mom's basement", he has often told me). Will Stephen develop friends and want to socialize with them? Will he ever want to have a romantic relationship? Will he maintain relationships with family members when he no longer lives under the same roof? Or will Stephen retreat further into his Aspergers world, prefering the simplicity of solitude rather than the stress of navigating complex social situations?
When I begin to worry about my son's path, I revisit the lesson I learned from watching Stephen on the playground and remind myself that his happiness may be found on life's perimeter.
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