Our son goes to a school for people who learn differently.  In his sophomore class there are about eight, one girl.  All the upper school classes are of this size.

Some of the students are fairly eccentric.  All are accepted in this school, and there is no teasing or criticism of anyone even if a student has a hard time participating in things, as Garrett does.  He is fine being with students if he doesn’t have to interact with them.  His way of interacting is not to interact.

Sitting in the carpool lane, we get to know all of the students, at least by the way they look.  There was a senior there last year who was very interesting.  Of all in the school, this boy would have to be voted “best hair”.  Long and lush, beyond the shoulders with thick bangs, it was honey brown and beautiful.  Every day he wore kacki bermuda-length shorts, and a white knit shirt with a collar that had the initials of the school written on it.  The topper was, he carried a long black umbrella every day.

Glenn knows more about autism than I do.  When first observed, he said that it was probably a strategy given him by his parents to overcome a fear.  It worked.  He seemed very confident when waiting for his ride.

He and one other girl from his class ended up as freshmen at a small school in the upstate of South Carolina.  He is doing very well.

The girl described a scene to Glenn she saw on campus at that school recently.  She must have been perched on a second floor and looking out the window.  In an area, there is a collection of intersecting sidewalks that students use to get to and from the buildings surrounding the green space.   She could see her colleague with “best hair” coming down one sidewalk  to an inevitable contact with about five bulky football players coming down another.   She held her breath and wondered how her friend would handle this event.

As they approached each other, our hero stopped and slightly bowed the upper part of his body in recognition of the football players.  They stopped, he he stuck out his hand to shake theirs.

They said “No!, Fist-bump!”  The whole group burst into smiles and completed the ritual.  And then went on their way.



  1. We also have a special son who has Autism and Intellectual impairment. he goes to a wonderful with all sorts of very special, amazing kids. i really enjoyed reading this Post. Happy mothers day!!!! xox

  2. well we have a lot in common, do we not? do you talk with others on line about your experiences with autism? i am a stepmother, not a mother, and do not have the experience my husband does.

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