Star performers
I have two stories of absolute heroes. My son is five, and struggles so much out in public due to his sensory issues: he hates crowds and loud noise, bright lights etc.
When he was two we were on the bus going to visit his great granny, and it was packed, hot and loud. He started to stim (hum and screech) and a few people were staring and tutting at this point. Then he started to lash out at me. I struggled to control him and tears started to well as I heard some comments from a man getting off.
I was just about to give up and get off the bus to head home with him when a lady came and sat next to us; she didn’t say a word, just pulled out a teddy and started singing to it.
My son grew more interested in what she was doing and calmed down after a few minutes. She carried on singing and even got others on the bus, including my son, to join in. I’ll never forget the day that 20-odd strangers sang Twinkle Twinkle to my son. I smile every time I think about it.
Kaye Blairs
Supermarket superhero
Another hero works as a cashier at Tesco in Greenfield. My son was four and sitting in the trolley seat, as he would run off or refuse to move during the shop. A stranger had said to him: “You’re too big for that seat. You’re not a baby, are you.” He is big for his age so looks a bit older than he is.
Unfortunately, that bit of unwanted attention, combined with the lights and speakers, drove him over the edge. He was biting and scratching my hands and screaming so loudly.
I’ve learned to ignore this behaviour and just get to the till as quickly as I can, to get out of there, but the young man on the till was still serving another woman. All the while my son carried on screaming and biting.
When he started scanning my shopping, he said: “Wow, I really admire your patience.” He could have said any number of negative things that I’ve heard a hundred times before, but that one bit of praise for my parenting meant so much.
Kaye Blairs
The comfort of strangers
My son, who’s almost three years old, has recently been given an initial diagnosis of high-functioning autism. I don’t drive so we rely on public transport. Mostly, he enjoys it, but sometimes when it’s busy he gets overwhelmed.
This happened a few weeks ago. The bus was very busy and he was in his pushchair, but we couldn’t put it where he likes to sit (on the right-hand side facing the front of the bus); I had to put him to the left side of the bus facing into the aisle, then stand in front of him.
He began getting upset and was kicking me, telling me to turn him around and sit down. He also kept pushing one foot against the shopping trolley of an older lady who was tutting and muttering about him, even though I moved his foot each time and told him not to do it.
He managed to calm himself, which is a minor miracle, so, as always, we did our “high five for calming down” routine. This prompted the older lady with the shopping trolley to loudly exclaim that it was “ridiculous to call that an achievement”. I was on the verge of opening my mouth (and possibly getting an asbo) when a lovely lady sitting next to my son touched my hand and loudly said: “I don’t mean to offend, but may I ask, is your son autistic?”
I almost cried with relief – and replied that yes, he is. She went on to tell me her grandson had been diagnosed recently and behaved the same way when things got too much. A young couple opposite joined our conversation and politely asked what being autistic means, so I spent the remainder of our journey chatting with the three of them, while the trolley lady kept her head low and didn’t make another sound.
So our unsung heroes are those three strangers – and everybody like them – who were not judgemental when they saw a small overwhelmed boy “acting out”, who politely asked for information to help them understand, and who can silence the tutting, ignorant people who judge without knowing. I send out a huge thank you to them all.
Leigh Rose
Teenage tolerance
My son, who was about nine at the time and is severely autistic, threw a whole bottle of fresh orange juice all over a teenage girl in McDonald’s as he was upset I’d got him the wrong drink (he is nonverbal and throwing things is one of his favourite ways of communicating).
The teenager was amazing. She had orange juice dripping from her hair, face and clothes, but she just went over to the counter and ordered my son a replacement drink and asked her boyfriend, who was working there, to come and help clean up. I remain full of admiration for her wonderful attitude.
Jackie Trayling
A bus to call your own
My son Henry is nine years old and suffers from severe high-dependency autism and ADHD, as a result of which we practically live at the local hospital, especially considering his older sister has Asperger’s as well. As a single mum and full-time carer who has struggled my whole life to cope (I am awaiting ASD diagnosis myself) I do not drive and have to take the bus.
The bus to my local hospital runs by a college and is always packed, a situation that distresses Henry on a good day. One day we were running late and the bus was standing-room only as it came to the stop. I motioned towards it and Henry instantly went into meltdown.
The conductor noticed and asked what was wrong. I explained Henry was autistic and crowds made him panic – and we were running late. He finished filling the bus and asked us to wait as it departed.
He got on his radio and called for another bus urgently, which turned up completely empty. He ushered us on, explained the situation to the driver and asked other passengers to kindly wait for the next bus. The driver took just the two of us directly to the hospital, where we made our appointment on time. When I returned to the station to pass on my compliments, the lady behind the counter spent 20 minutes explaining how I could obtain free travel for my autistic children. That day was a great day.
Clare Western
A jewel among men
We have a son (now 13) who has Asperger syndrome. When he was five he could be very fidgety and his curiosity could be a bit of a problem.
Back in 2008 we had an appointment to meet with Jonathan Swan at The Workshop in Lewes. He was making wedding rings for us and we were going in to discuss them. The gallery part of the shop had lots of glass cabinets and, on entering, our son started to fiddle with the cases and locks. We told Jonathan that he had Asperger’s and were expecting to explain what that meant. He responded in a rather booming voice: “How wonderful! Some of my best friends have Asperger’s.” He then spoke directly to our son, asking him what he was interested in. He proceeded to take him into his workshop to show him the tools of the trade, spending about 20 minutes doing so. At one point he demonstrated what a blowtorch was for, and allowed our son to hold it and melt a piece of metal. We were very moved.
What was interesting was that at no point did he ever talk down to our son, who in return responded with due respect for this amazing man. It seemed that he intuitively knew that children will mirror any behaviour they are demonstrated and respect goes two ways. Instead of saying “how awful”, he said “how wonderful”, and we will never forget that.
Juliet Docherty
To find out more about autism, the person, and what to do visit autism.org.uk/tmi
