My third-grade daughter has no idea what it’s like to have a brother with autism.
Neither do I.
So we are lounging on this Sunday afternoon in February, munching on Teddy Grahams, attempting to understand Catherine’s life. Catherine, 12, is David’s sister and his teacher; David has autism. Mostly, Catherine teaches her brother about life’s rules, over and over again. He forgets. She reminds him.
If it’s too loud, cover your ears. Or ask the other person to be quiet.
Sometimes people laugh when they like you. But sometimes they laugh to hurt you.
Keep your pants on! Unless Mom, Dad, or the doctor tells you to take them off.
Recently, Catherine befriended Jason, whom she met in the waiting room of the occupational therapist’s office. Catherine doesn’t know where to look when she talks to Jason. She tells us:
“I don’t know what’s wrong with Jason, and it doesn’t seem polite to ask. Whatever it is, though, it’s something big. There’s a tray on Jason’s wheelchair, and on the top is a communication book…. Jason can’t speak, but he turns the pages and touches the cards to tell his mother if he wants a drink, or has to use the bathroom, or is mad about something.”
Catherine, David and Jason are the creations of Cynthia Lord, in her debut novel, Rules. And we are gathered on this Sunday afternoon, at our mother-daughter book club.
I have a few of my personal rules I’d like to share.
- Parents must read with and to their children, even when the kids are old enough to tackle text independently;
- Parents must support and extend curriculum delivered by our children’s teachers. We cannot expect the schools to be everything;
- Parents must push children to understand the diversity of human experience, rather than shield them. The discussion of literature can be the ideal venue for this.
Thus, I formed this book club, back when the girls were in first grade. It includes several girls and their mothers. We meet monthly. We draw pictures. We eat dessert. We pull questions out of a jar and talk.
What was your favorite part? What confused you? What, if anything, frightened you?
What do you think it would be like to have a brother who has autism? Do you think you would act like Catherine does?
One girl, Shale, says, “For me, it would be really hard because, just like Catherine, you would feel like you would have to be watching your brother, making sure he did not do anything wrong.”
Do you know anyone with autism? Lots of nods.
What do you think it would be like to use a “talker” (assistive technology) like Jason does?
This gets lots of reaction, as the girls all know a boy in their grade who uses technology to communicate.
“Some people look at his ‘talker’ rather than looking directly at him,” says my daughter, Sarah. “It’s like they’re asking the ‘talker’ the question, rather than asking him.”
Sarah knows that is not okay. Would I have made such an insight at nine years old? Would Sarah have made such an insight without first entering the lives of Catherine and Jason? Or without discussing it at a weekend book club?
Catherine also teaches her brother that “a real conversation takes two people.”
In our case, real conversation takes a bunch of moms reading and discussing books like Rules along with their daughters.
So here’s one final rule: Join (or start) a book club with your child. There are few better ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.
Baker is a middle school language arts teacher in Missouri.
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