I originally wasn’t going to weigh in on the recent, reprehensible treatment of Alex Barton by his kindergarten teacher in St. Lucie County, FL because it’s been written and blogged about at length all over the Web. I didn’t really know what I could add to it. But prominent bloggers who write about issues related to autistic children are calling for all who stand with Alex and his mother, Melissa Barton, to post their thoughts and show solidarity both with them and autistic children everywhere.

To briefly catch you up if you missed this, Alex Barton is a five-year-old boy on the autistic spectrum who - I can’t believe I’m writing this - was voted out of his kindergarten classroom after his teacher, Wendy Portillo, polled the class about whether they wanted him removed from class for the day. The class voted for him to leave by a count of 14-2. I wish I was talking about some alternate, bizarro, Survivor-esque universe, but I’m not.

[To catch up on the latest news, here's an article from the Palm Beach Post. There's a great post at Asperger Square 8 that you also must read.]

For what my thoughts are worth, here they are.

One of my biggest fears for J-Man is that other kids will regularly bully him in school just because he is ‘different’. Honestly, I fully expect it, and the hurt I already feel is terrible. He most likely will start preschool in our county’s autistic children’s program this fall. I confess my breathing gets shallower just writing about that. This will be a major transition for him, obviously, and I don’t need the fear of bullies making that worse. But that will be something I’ll have to deal with.

When I read that afterwards Alex kept repeating “I’m not special,” my heart broke. I tried to imagine J-Man sitting in the floor repeating those three words over and over again. I couldn’t. It hurt more than I could bear. Even writing this hurts. I can’t imagine being Melissa Barton right now.

As parents, we need to know that we can count on our children’s teachers, and for the most part, I believe we can. J-Man has had excellent teachers and therapists so far, and we are thankful every day for them. We need to know that people at our schools will be there to help our kids be the best they can be and serve as a voice that counters bullies and other people who might belittle them. We need to know we can count on them to treat our children as special and uniquely wonderful, not fear having to count them among the bullies.

Regardless of what anyone believes about children inherently wanting to rebel against their parents and adults in general, adults still have an incalculably powerful influence on them. When an authority figure teaches children, especially at that age, that excluding people who are ‘different’ from the community is OK, what do you think they are learning? What do you think that will translate into as these kids progress through school and into adult life? What kind of future are we creating as a result?

In a world overflowing with messages to exclude and reject those we do not like, those who are different, and those who ‘make us’ feel uncomfortable, there must be voices that proclaim the inherent and immeasurable worth in each person. We must be those voices.

Every kid needs the authority figures in their lives to accept them where they are. That doesn’t mean we’re not supposed to set boundaries and have rules and expectations. We start with a fundamental acceptance of the truth that every child, regardless of their abilities, has infinite worth. That is the foundation we must build everything else off of.

There are truths in our society that are self-evident and inviolable. We don’t get to put these things up for a psuedo-democratic vote. You don’t get to decide Alex’s or anyone else’s innate worth as a person and member of our society. That kind of world shouldn’t be allowed outside your TV. If you watch that kind of junk and take it seriously as something to emulate in your ‘real’ life, it’s time to go bury your TV.

In case I haven’t made my point clear yet - You don’t get to extinguish his light or anyone else’s. Period.

Shaming like this just leads to greater and deeper shame, creating this endless, horrible, destructive cycle. Kids who have special needs will get enough shaming in their lifetimes to make our hearts ache every day, if not every hour or minute. They need to know we’re sticking up for them.

They need to know that the people who love and value them simply for who they are will be ready and able to champion them no matter what. They need to know that our voices are stronger than those who either through intention or ignorance would tear them down. I hope in some way that my words will help him know this. And I hope every day that I will have the courage of strength and conviction to stand for them, no matter whose children they are.

There are lines you simply do not cross, and in this act, this teacher crossed it. As parents, we must hold that line without compromise against anyone who willfully or ignorantly breaches it. We are the first and last line of defense for our children. If not us, then who will?

What do I think should happen to Ms. Portillo? Schools have zero tolerance policies toward students, and I think teachers should have similar expectations and consequences for such egregious actions. She may just have been poorly trained and made a ridiculous error in judgment. I don’t know. And at the moment, I’m having a hard time caring about the difference between intent and poor decision-making.

Regardless, I think termination of her employment and suspension of her teaching license would be the minimum I would ever accept as a parent. If she finds some way to show by her actions that she has earned the trust needed to be a teacher again, then I believe in reconciliation, but I imagine that will be a long time coming. But my advice to her would be, don’t be surprised if many people neither forgive nor forget. You just don’t mess with our kids, and we won’t take ignorance as an excuse.

I try hard to find something to build from in every situation, no matter how awful the whole thing seems. Here’s what I found to hold on to from all this.

I’m heartened by the overwhelming support and action that has flowed forth from parents and bloggers of every kind from every corner. The world of autism has many factions, many controversies, and much disagreement, but mess with our kids and we will act as one voice. Our children are more important than our differences, and this has reminded us of that.

In the Internet age, we are serving notice. Acts such as these will find the light of day. We will make sure of it. We are watching and listening. We aren’t some tribal council; we are the entire village. We have spoken, we are speaking, and we will continue to speak until our children are treated with respect and dignity.

Given the challenges we face every day, we do not give up easily (or at all) and we have developed incredible endurance. We’ve had to. Autism is an endurance event. It requires all of who we are. We’ve learned that this is what it takes to help our children grow and thrive. And we recommit ourselves to it every day, by both necessity and by choice.

I wish my son didn’t have to work so hard at everything, but he does and does so bravely. He inspires me every day. If I can love him through his challenges by the sheer force of my will, I will. I celebrate him just for who he is. He has become my teacher. Maybe when this teacher decides to become the student for a while and learn what all this means, she will understand what all the Alexes of the world have to offer us.

Also, two kids - for whatever reason - voted against this abominable act. It’s been 30 years since I was in kindergarten, but I don’t recall going against your peers being any more popular then as it probably isn’t now. I don’t know their motivations, reasoning, or feelings about their choice, but I applaud them regardless. My hope for them is that their light of compassion, decency, and their sense of right and wrong is such that no teacher, adult, or peer can ever take that away from them.

I close with two messages.

To Melissa Barton - There’s nothing I can really say that could possibly relieve you of what you have to carry right now, but I will say this. We’ve got your back. You are not alone.

To Alex Barton - You are wonderful and special and perfect just the way you are. You are unique in all the world. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Let your light shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!

The Holland Tourism Board would like a word with you…

If you’ve ‘gone public’ with having a special needs child for about this side of 37 minutes, odds are stellar that someone has sent you the “Welcome to Holland” poem by Emily Perl Kingsley. For the uninitiated, click that link and go read it. I’ll wait.

While it’s not as controversial a topic among parents as say vaccines, you’ll still get a wide range of reactions and emotions about it, and those may change drastically depending on the mood they’re in at any given moment.

Regardless of what I say next, most people who have sent it to us have done so out of concern and love for us. To them I say, I appreciate you more than you know, and I hope you’ll understand that the emotions of parents of autistic children are complex, varied, and wild. And we get more honest about that as time goes on.

At first I hated that poem. Then I felt like I got it. Then I felt like the poet was a bad parent and I cursed her name to the darkness (I was bitter then - duh). Then I kinda got it again. Now I have a completely different reaction to it:

What the hell did Holland do to deserve this?

I’ve never been to Holland or Italy, and beyond one having the Pope’s house in the middle of it and the other having a higher population of blond women, I don’t know what the primary pros and cons are. I have no clue why the plane full of all the special needs kids and families got rerouted to Holland, except perhaps the flight attendants thought the screaming indicated a potential terrorist threat.

Luckily, I’m not alone in this wondering. A funny reply came in the form of “Holland Schmolland” by Laura Krueger Crawford. Apparently a cottage industry of these things is popping up.

Then I found “Welcome to Beirut,” by Susan F. Rzucidlo, which is utterly brilliant. It’s got me wanting to write my own.

In the end, I only have one reaction to the Holland poem, and I think this one is here to stay. Neither Italy nor Holland nor all the countries in the world combined can hold a candle to our son.

Our house can range from idyllic to insane, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not even all the artwork in Italy together could impress me more than what my son struggles to create with crayons and computer paper. The art on our walls at home is the symbol of all the hard work he’s put into overcoming his challenges. He is our masterpiece.

Rzucidlo lasers in on one of the biggest truths I’ve learned so far when she says, “You will know sorrow like few others and yet you will know joy above joy.” We celebrate every little step, no matter how small. We give thanks to all those parents who’ve gone ahead of us and given us roads to follow. We feel affirmed by those parents who see us go to tears when he says a new word and know why. We rejoice for the gifts given to us by skilled, committed, kind-hearted therapists who work for pay far less than the weight-in-gold salaries they deserve.

We have very high highs and really low lows, but between that vast expanse, we see all the little details of the world. I sit and stare at the sky because he does. I discover microscopic pieces of dirt in the carpet just because he does. I wonder what all I would miss if he didn’t show them to me.

One more thing I’ve learned - There are a lot of good and kind people in this world, and we’ve only just begun to meet them. We wish our son didn’t have to struggle like he does, but he is accepting it with bravery and grace and determination. We can do no less.

(Buckle in. This is a long one.)

One thing we’ve already figured out is that once you get an autism diagnosis, whatever the secret code is for the Autism Parents Underground Society gets embedded in you like the security tags they use to keep you from stealing stuff from the store. The big positive with that? You start getting helpful information from people who have been down the road you’re on, instead of just getting information about autism from TV, well-meaning friends and family who also got their information from TV, or Tom Cruise.

Our driving principle: Do whatever it takes for J-Man to realize his full potential and be the best little man he can be, but do so armed with all the possible knowledge and wisdom and feedback we can stuff into our brains. This may mean that he ‘loses his diagnosis’ someday, or it may not. Whatever that will look like eventually, we want to help him discover all of his gifts and talents and loves and then express them as far and wide as he can. This means we have a lot of work to do, and there’s no shortcut to it.

You quickly learn that there are a lot of debates in the ‘autism world’ that remind me of philosophical or religious debates where people argue endlessly and stop talking to people who don’t agree with them. It’s like watching another form of religious fundamentalism.

A few people I’ve met are getting more invested in movements and doctrine than their own child. I understand the emotional investment parents have in their children’s improvements - and thank God for it - but right now I find all of this debating a distraction. If you want to argue cures vs. neurodiversity, that’s fine. Just do it somewhere else for right now. None of that means jack to me when my son is flapping his arms like mad in the back seat of the car. Luckily, the number of people I’ve personally come across in this category are in the minority.

We’ve been reading and researching for two years about feeding issues, sensory integration disorder (or sensory processing disorder depending on who’s talking to you), physical therapy, reflux, speech delays, apraxia, and every freakin’ therapy you can think of around them. This has been great practice for discerning what therapies and ‘cures’ for autism have some potential for success and which are pure excrement. The latter looks to be winning in a rout at the moment, but that’s another story.

Thankfully, the anecdotal suggestions from strangers (”We know a parent who had their kid piss into a strong, North wind every morning for a month and got him cured!”) has been pretty minimal so far. We’ve developed pretty good BS detectors, which is one of the most important skills for a special needs parent to have.

I also classify certain therapies under the heading of ‘well, it couldn’t hurt’, so I’ll try some of them even if some seem a little odd. I’ll give serious consideration to many diets, vitamins, or supplements, even though we’ll do a lot of research into them before we dare try them with J-Man. This will likely mean we’ll dismiss ones that seem invasive, dubious, completely unproven and untested, and anything else suspicious.

I’m skeptical of many vitamins and supplements because, with all of my own ‘issues’, supplements have at best made marginal, imperceptible, or no improvements for me. None have caused me any real harm as far as I can tell, so there was no reason not to try many of them. A couple made me sick to my stomach for a couple of days, but that was about it.

There’s a whole lot of stuff in the Whole Foods home chemistry aisle that appears to lack everything but a salesman on a soapbox. You can’t easily tell what really could be helpful and what would be more cheaply achieved by gnawing on an Amazon.com box. Again, you gotta research. There are no shortcuts.

There’s a lot we don’t know about how supplements work, and some of the ones that involve some fringe-sounding stuff may cause problems for little people with developing brains. If they’ve been tested for all of about a day and a half on ten kids, you have absolutely no idea what good it could do, not to mention the possible long-term harm. You have to read, talk to people you trust, read some more, and then decide.

To me, one of the best ways to do your first pass at weeding out options is to look at two pieces of information about these or any other therapies: 1) Has it been tested on a sample size of more than three neighbors’ kids, and 2) has it been around for longer than a five minutes. Not to be overlooked: Does the person advocating it have a financial stake in it? That should eliminate about 3/4 of the possible therapies right there.

Notice I never said, look for studies where the scientists have medical degrees and lots of acronyms after their names. There may be all sorts of correlations between therapies and improvements in autistic kids (we’ll do ‘correlation vs. causation’ some other day), but degrees and acronyms isn’t one of them. I may not know a whole lot yet about therapies specifically for autism, but I’ve been researching everything else for two years and much wisdom and common sense carries over. The biggest difference is that our emotional investment in improvement is even higher than before, and that’s saying a lot.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying none of them work; I think it’s safe to say that some of them do help at least some kids. I’m saying that I begin with healthy skepticism and then work toward being convinced or unconvinced. I’m not sticking any old thing into my kid’s body unless I have some sound evidence that it might help and it won’t hurt. There’s at least a “first do no harm” principle here.

Some therapies really intrigue me and seem worth a try. Music and auditory therapies might work well for J-Man because he’s such a musical kid. I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but my iPod is like my portable therapy device, so I won’t discount the value of it even if I have no clue how it might work for him.

His OT is trained in one kind of auditory therapy so I’m interested in giving it a try. Getting him to wear the headphones might be the hardest part. Again, this falls under ‘it can’t hurt’. Currently, insurance and Early Intervention are financially supporting much of this part of the effort so now is as good a time as ever to try something like that.

It’s that and we’ve learned that we can truly trust his therapists and preschool teachers because they are smart, caring, and always have J-Man’s best interests in mind. If they tell us something is worth trying, we’ll listen. The best thing you can do is develop a network of professionals, family, and friends whose advice you trust and know is sound. They will help you separate the wheat from the chaff better than just about anything.

All this is to say, we’ve learned a lot over the past two years about how to sort out much of the snake oil, ‘breakthrough cures’, and outright loony crap from the stuff that has some reasonable, scientifically-based chance of working. I’ll even go as far as to say that anything that is sold as easy will be struck from my list of things to try. I’ve learned in life that there are rarely any shortcuts.

I wish there was an autism Santa Claus, but I know better. It’s depressing, but I know I have to make my peace with this.

For someone who has been unable to sleep for almost two weeks, feels emotionally spent, and who thinks beer and ice cream sounds like a good dinner tonight, I feel oddly lucid and confident about our ability to differentiate between hope, helpfulness, histrionics, and horseshit. And the fact that I can string four h-words together right now just astounded me.

I know I haven’t talked about education, behavioral work, and the other therapies in the standard repertoire. I feel confident in the approaches we’re already taking and feel like we’re getting great advice on what else to try. I’m less worried about this. Perhaps I’m approaching this by weeding out all the junk first so we can see what our best options are. Distractions are my nemesis, and God knows there are a lot of them here.

And in case this point wasn’t clear - there are no shortcuts.

You’ll be pleased to know that the guide to eligible expenses that can be taken out of your flexible spending account has clarified some important social and theological issues.

Glad they cleared that up. This probably saved them from having to cover potato chips and cheesy poofs, too.

I particularly liked the theological implications of the next one.

I guess Tom Cruise didn’t yell hard enough.

All humor aside, breastfeeding supplies are not covered under flexible spending plans. We already knew this, but it still chaps our collective butts. God forbid we encourage breastfeeding even though every medical and child-oriented organization on earth recommends it. So working moms have to eat $300 plus the cost of supplies (at least, after you throw in a power supply every year and replacement parts on top of everything else) to pump milk for their kids while they’re at work even though doing so has shown that their kids will incur fewer medical expenses over time. But we’re not bitter. [end rant]