"The Reason I Jump"

Recently, I watched a documentary titled,  "What You Taught Me about My Son" about how a young Japanese boy with autism, Naoki Higashida, helped a British writer, David Mitchell, better understand his son who also had autism. I was so captivated by the documentary that I bought the book,  "The Reason I Jump." I wish I had viewed this film and read the book when I was still working as an educator. 

My experience with autism didn't begin until 1989 when I taught a preschool special education class. Until then, my knowledge of autism was limited and generally involved people like the Dustin Hoffman character in the movie, "Rain Man." I had a lot to learn.

One of the twelve students in that preschool class was a beautiful 3-year-old boy, J, who didn't speak. He had a diagnosis of autism. When J was upset, he screamed and ran out of the classroom, flapping his arms. We were able to eventually calm him, and we observed carefully to try and figure out what was bothering J, but most of the time, it was a guessing game. J did make progress, though, and after a few months of school, he was able to sit with the group and with assistance from an adult, he was able to follow along when we sang or played musical instruments. He was quiet and listened to stories, and he played appropriately with toys though he rarely played with other students. 

When I taught that preschool special education class, we communicated with each family via a composition book. We shared what the student did that day as well as any successes or concerns. (Remember, this was 1989 before we had email or any of the other communication apps that teachers today use to stay in touch with families.) Parents read and responded with comments like "T had a rough night; she couldn't sleep so she may be grouchy today" or "L is very sad because his Dad is out in the field and won't be home for a few days" or "S is really excited because Grandma is coming to visit this weekend!" One Monday, J's mom wrote, "J has a book in his bag. He wants to read it to you." 

So at the first opportunity, I asked J to get his bag and bring the book to me. I thought that I would be reading it to him. It was a book about a boy who was being potty-trained, something we were working on with J. Well, you could imagine my surprise when J sat with me, pointed to the words on the book cover, and read the title clearly. He proceeded to read every page, pointing out the words as he read them and even corrected himself when he made a mistake. He got to a page about the little boy saying he had to go: "He sat and he sat and he sat and he sat . . .  and he sat!" J pointed to and read each word and when he was done with that page, he looked at me, and we both laughed! I can still hear his joyful laughter and see the smile on his face! That one experience made me realize that even with a diagnosis of autism, J was able to understand much more than we had thought.  He still wouldn't answer questions like, "What is your name?" but here he was, reading a book and understanding the humor in those pages. 

I don't know what J is doing today. His family moved after that school year, but I am hopeful that he received the kind of support and services he needed to help him to overcome the challenges he faced as a person with autism. 

As an administrator, I sat in on many Individualized Education Program meetings for students with autism. I reflect on those students and know I learned so much from them. They taught me patience and to not give up on anyone, that every step forward was progress. I saw the value in working as a team to provide a safety net for those who needed the most support. These students taught me to look at their strengths and to focus on what they could do, not just what they couldn't do. As an educator, I believe in early interventions, and for these students with autism, providing additional services up-front could make a difference down the road. And I learned to trust the parents of the child with autism. If we were having challenges at school, these students were often having even more challenges at home. 

We have learned so much about autism since I first came into the profession way back in 1973 and since I had my first student with a diagnosis of autism in my class. When I read Naoki Higashida's responses to questions like, "Why don't you make eye contact when you're talking?" or "Why do you make a huge fuss over tiny mistakes?" or "What's the reason you jump?" or "Why do you like spinning?" I think of some of our students with autism; it would have helped us to understand them better. 

Every so often, a book or a film comes along that could make a huge difference in educators' attitudes and perceptions. I encourage educators to watch the documentary and if possible, to read the book. I think it can open your mind as well as your heart.