By Karen Kaplan, MS
Let’s just stop for a minute and think: When was the last time you had to adapt to something new in your life? You may begin to understand what those on the autism spectrum or with similar learning differences feel when teachers or parents change something up, introduce something new that is to be engaged, or abruptly stop something they feel comfortable doing.
I recently had that experience. My car hit a sidewalk, and when the bumper was caught on the edge, it was torn away, requiring me to schedule repair work. I had to call to obtain a rental for 10 days. I asked them to be sure my car was automatic, small, and not electric. I had to devise at least some kind of guidelines to prepare for the new novel. Then, I had to ensure everything was out of my car and transferred to the new vehicle. I always kept a water bottle next to me and my yoga bag in my trunk. Would there be enough space in the rental, or how would I open the new trunk? Then, all the new ones hit me, and the gentleman handed me the keys to my new rental car and asked if I had any questions. This is when my mind started to wonder. First of all, I had to use a real key to start the car. I could no longer just press a button to start the ignition. I also had to press a button on the key holder to open the doors and trunk. I just touched the doors on my regular vehicle for them to open.
I couldn’t find the plug for my phone cord, and I no longer had my favorite music stations set. It was more difficult because I didn’t know how to align my phone to the system. The new car also had a screen showing me how to be careful backing up. Yikes. I was used to using my side mirrors and rear-view mirrors and turning my head to adjust the car, so I felt anxious and ill-prepared to operate this novel vehicle.
I was given no practice time. I was so worried about the size of the vehicle and how it would turn, stop, and speed up that I didn’t think of all the other questions I should have asked the man so I would be prepared for all the novelty this vehicle would present. How do the lights work? Where is the horn? How do I open the gas lid? Where are the controls for the seat height and length? So many new actions to practice so I could feel less nervous and be successful in this new vehicle.
So, I took a deep breath and told myself I would figure it all out. I would make adjustments to my regular routines. For one week, I would not plug my phone in. For another week, I would just listen to the music on the radio and get by without my playlist on Pandora. If I were going to use maps, I would just turn the sound up on my phone so I could hear the navigation without looking.
As I drove, I became familiar with how the brakes operated and how the car's speed would pick up as I pressed the gas. I was more cautious driving down narrow streets and pulling into parking spaces until I eventually figured out how to work all the different outside lighting options. But I remained a bit nervous each time a new action had to be taken.
I realized how it must feel to someone on the autism spectrum who has so much new occurring in their lives. I could now relate to those feelings instead of imagining how they would feel. What a wake-up call it was.
We all must imagine how anxious it feels to engage in something new and novel. We must pause and think in a new situation without knowing all the rules, systems, outcomes, adjustments, and expectations. Then, we can figure out how to better support and prepare our children for new uncertainties.
Yes, we need to prime them. We need to ask them if they have any questions. We need to help them visualize and practice some of the actions expected in the new. We need to give them some time to adjust. We may need to break things down into small, manageable steps. We need to provide encouragement and positive feedback. We must let them know that change can be hard but that they will adjust, learn, and expand when novelties occur. They need to know that feeling a bit anxious is normal. We all feel anxious when new situations happen in our lives.
Karen Kaplan, MS, is a native San Franciscan. She completed her bachelor’s and master’s degrees at Arizona State University, Tempe, Arizona, in speech pathology and audiology. She minored in special education and obtained her speech therapist and special education credentials in California. Karen worked as a speech therapist for schools for 20 years before opening her own residential and education program for students with autism. She worked in credential programs at Sacramento State University as well as UC Davis and spent 20 years directing private schools for those with autism and similar learning challenges.
Karen founded a non-profit, Offerings, which helps cultures globally to understand those with developmental challenges. For seven years, she founded and facilitated an autism lecture series and resource fair in Northern California. Karen still facilitates an annual Autism Awesomeness event. She is currently consulting, helping families, schools, and centers for children, teens, and adults. Karen has authored three books: Reach Me Teach Me: A Public School Program for the Autistic Child; A Handbook for Teachers and Administrators, On the Yellow Brick Road: My Search for Home and Hope for the Child with Autism, and Typewriting to Heaven… and Back: Conversations with My Dad on Death, Afterlife and Living (which is not about autism but about having important conversations with those we love).
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