by Ex-Valley-Doll » Tue Sep 28, 2021 9:18 am
I’m not trying to stir the pot or prolong the distress, but I find this is not the case — that it’s always a neurotypical child who is the bully and a special needs child is the victim — any more than any other cliché. I’ll just share one anecdote: my son was about two when he was playing inside a structure on Clapham Common, in the area for kids opposite Lavender Hill. It was a kind of train, big enough for children to “drive” and wander around inside. He was standing in the doorway and facing the doorframe when another child — older and bigger and moving fast — passed him, on his way out. He extended one arm and shoved my son face-first into the door jamb. For no conceivable reason, except that his instinct seemed to be to shove whatever was in his eye line. My son wasn’t blocking his path in any way. It was a pointless gesture. My son was shocked, distressed, and sobbing, but not seriously injured. But it was just such an unprompted burst of sheer aggression, I was stunned. I was even more stunned when the boy’s father sauntered past, smiled — as if that were an appropriate reaction — observed our distress, and kept walking. Literally. It took me a few minutes to recover my equilibrium, and to comfort my son, but then I felt I had to say something to him. Something. I just asked, “Is that your son?” And he must have sensed I was put out, because he offered, a bit touchy, and a bit defensive, I thought, “He’s autistic.” As if it ought to have been obvious. As if I were the one being insensitive. This prompted me to totally lose my temper with him and shout at him full in the face in front of a few dozen people. My anger was simply channeled toward one statement: when you hurt someone, you apologise. And you explain why we don’t hurt people. You apologise. And you don’t do it again. He looked at me with a baleful, genuinely baffled, increasingly touchy mien, and really seemed to be taken aback that I would confront him and not simply take autism as an alibi for — anything. I realise the child has no idea what he’s doing. It’s not malicious. I get it. But all the more reason for the adults around him to set boundaries, develop coping strategies, address the predicament. It won’t help him at all in the long run to be enabled. I get that it’s agonising for the parents. But think about it — as I did, instantly — what if my son had been at the top of a climbing frame when this boy just decided to shove him off for no reason? ….what if he’d been on a bike? Etc. I’m sorry but I think you oversimplify the issue and there are genuine concerns that are not simply due to privilege, etc.
I’m not trying to stir the pot or prolong the distress, but I find this is not the case — that it’s always a neurotypical child who is the bully and a special needs child is the victim — any more than any other cliché. I’ll just share one anecdote: my son was about two when he was playing inside a structure on Clapham Common, in the area for kids opposite Lavender Hill. It was a kind of train, big enough for children to “drive” and wander around inside. He was standing in the doorway and facing the doorframe when another child — older and bigger and moving fast — passed him, on his way out. He extended one arm and shoved my son face-first into the door jamb. For no conceivable reason, except that his instinct seemed to be to shove whatever was in his eye line. My son wasn’t blocking his path in any way. It was a pointless gesture. My son was shocked, distressed, and sobbing, but not seriously injured. But it was just such an unprompted burst of sheer aggression, I was stunned. I was even more stunned when the boy’s father sauntered past, smiled — as if that were an appropriate reaction — observed our distress, and kept walking. Literally. It took me a few minutes to recover my equilibrium, and to comfort my son, but then I felt I had to say something to him. Something. I just asked, “Is that your son?” And he must have sensed I was put out, because he offered, a bit touchy, and a bit defensive, I thought, “He’s autistic.” As if it ought to have been obvious. As if I were the one being insensitive. This prompted me to totally lose my temper with him and shout at him full in the face in front of a few dozen people. My anger was simply channeled toward one statement: when you hurt someone, you apologise. And you explain why we don’t hurt people. You apologise. And you don’t do it again. He looked at me with a baleful, genuinely baffled, increasingly touchy mien, and really seemed to be taken aback that I would confront him and not simply take autism as an alibi for — anything. I realise the child has no idea what he’s doing. It’s not malicious. I get it. But all the more reason for the adults around him to set boundaries, develop coping strategies, address the predicament. It won’t help him at all in the long run to be enabled. I get that it’s agonising for the parents. But think about it — as I did, instantly — what if my son had been at the top of a climbing frame when this boy just decided to shove him off for no reason? ….what if he’d been on a bike? Etc. I’m sorry but I think you oversimplify the issue and there are genuine concerns that are not simply due to privilege, etc.