Ten Things
    from the book Ten Things Every Child with Autism Wishes You Knew by Ellen Notbohm, 2nd edition 
    Bronze Medal in Psychology, ForeWord Book of the Year Awards  l 
    Reprinted in its entirety with permission of author

    "I rely on you. All that I might become won't happen without you as
    my foundation. Be my advocate, be
    my guide, love me for who I am,
    and we'll see how far I can go."
    Thanks to a professional photographer who volunteered her time and with permission from
    famed author Ellen Notbohm, we're shining a spotlight on several of our amazing students, who
    are excited to share all of the things they want you know about autism.
    We hope our multimedia project will generate interest and support long after Autism Awarness Month
    in April, and we hope that you'll share this information with your family, friends and colleagues so they'll
    better understand how autism affects children -- and what they can do to help.
  • 10Things  
    Some days it seems the only predictable thing about it is the unpredictability. The only
    consistent attribute—the inconsistency. Autism
    can be baffling, even to those who spend
    their lives around it.
    The child who lives with autism may look “normal” but his behavior
    be perplexing and downright difficult.
    Autism was once labeled an “incurable disorder,” but that notion has crumbled in the face
    knowledge and understanding that increase
    even as you read this. Every day, individuals
    with autism show us that they can overcome, compensate for and otherwise manage many
    autism’s most challenging characteristics. Equipping those around our children with simple
    understanding of autism’s basic elements has
    a tremendous impact on their ability to
    journey towards productive, independent adulthood.
    Autism is a complex disorder but for purposes of this article, we can distill its myriad
    characteristics into four fundamental areas:
    sensory processing challenges, speech/language
    delays and impairments,
    the elusive social interaction skills and whole child/self-esteem issues.
    though these four elements may be common to many children, keep front-of-mind the fact
    that autism is
    a spectrum disorder: no two (or ten or twenty) children with autism will be
    completely alike. Every child will be at
    a different point on the spectrum. And, just as importantly,
    every parent, teacher and caregiver will be at a different point on the spectrum. Child or adult,
    each will have
    a unique set of needs.


    Here are 10 things every child with autism wishes you knew, featuring students from
    Mrs. Richter's class:
  • 10Things

    I am a child.
    My autism is part of who I am, not all of who I am. Are you just one thing, or are you a
    person with thoughts, feelings, preferences, ideas, talents, and dreams? Are you fat
    (overweight), myopic (wear glasses) or klutzy (uncoordinated)? Those may be things
    that I see first when I meet you, but you’re more than just that, aren’t you?
    As an adult, you have control over how you define yourself. If you want to single out one
    characteristic, you can make that known. As a child, I am still unfolding. Neither you nor
    I yet know what I may be capable of. If you think of me as just one thing, you run the danger
    of setting up an expectation that may be too low. And if I get a sense that you don’t think
    I “can do it,” my natural response will be, why try?
  • 10Things
    My senses are out of sync.
    This means that ordinary sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches that you may not
    even notice can be downright painful for me. My environment often feels hostile. I may
    appear withdrawn or belligerent or mean to you, but I’m just trying to defend myself.
    Here’s why a simple trip to the grocery store may be agonizing for me.
    My hearing may be hyperacute. Dozens of people jabber at once. The loudspeaker booms
    today’s special. Music blares from the sound system. Registers beep and cough, a coffee
    grinder chugs. The meat cutter screeches, babies wail, carts creak, the fluorescent lighting
    hums. My brain can’t filter all the input and I’m in overload!
    My sense of smell may be highly sensitive. The fish at the meat counter isn’t quite fresh, the
    standing next to us hasn’t showered today, the deli is handing out sausage samples, the
    baby in line ahead of us has a poopy diaper, they’re mopping up pickles on aisle three with
    ammonia. I feel like throwing up.
    And there’s so much hitting my eyes! The fluorescent light is not only too bright, it flickers.
    The space seems to be moving; the pulsating light bounces off everything and distorts what
    I am seeing. There are too many items for me to be able to focus (my brain may compensate
    withtunnel vision), swirling fans on the ceiling, so many bodies in constant motion. All this
    affects how I feel just standing there, and now I can’t even tell where my body is in space.
  • 10Things
    Distinguish between won’t (I choose not to)
    and can’t
    (I am not able to).
    It isn’t that I don’t listen to instructions. It’s that I can’t understand you. When you call to
    me from across the room, I hear “*&^%$#@, Jordan. #$%^*&^%$&*.” Instead, come over to
    me, get my attention, and speak in plain words: “Jordan, put your book in your desk. It’s time
    to go to lunch.” This tells me what you want me to do and what is going to happen next. Now
    it’s much easier for me to comply.
  • 10Things
    I’m a concrete thinker. I interpret language literally.
    You confuse me by saying, “Hold your horses, cowboy!” when what you mean is, “Stop
    running.” Don’t tell me something is “a piece of cake” when there’s no dessert in sight and
    what you mean is, “This will be easy for you to do.” When you say, “It’s pouring cats and
    dogs,” I see pets coming out of a pitcher. Tell me, “It’s raining hard.”
    Idioms, puns, nuances, inferences, metaphors, allusions, and sarcasm are lost on me.
  • 10Things
    Listen to all the ways I’m trying to communicate.
    It’s hard for me to tell you what I need when I don’t have a way to describe my feelings.
    I may be hungry, frustrated, frightened, or confused but right now I can’t find those words.
    Be alert for
    body language, withdrawal, agitation or other signs that tell you something is
    wrong. They’re there.
    Or, you may hear me compensate for not having all the words I need by sounding like a
    little professor or movie star, rattling off words or whole scripts well beyond my developmental
    age. I’ve memorized these messages from the world around me because I know I am expected
    to speak when spoken to. They may come from books, television, or the speech of other people.
    Grown-ups call it echolalia. I may not understand the context or the terminology I’m using. I just
    know that it gets me off the hook for coming up with a reply.
  • 10Things
     Picture this! I’m visually oriented.
    Show me how to do something rather than just telling me. And be prepared to show me
    many times. Lots of patient practice helps me learn.

    supports help me move through my day. They relieve me of the stress of having to
    remember what comes next, make for smooth transition between activities, and help me
    manage my time and meet your expectations.
    I need to see something to learn it, because spoken words are like steam to me; they
    evaporate in an instant, before I have a chance to make sense of them. I don’t have
    instant-processing skills. Instructions and information presented to me visually can stay
    front of me for as long as I need, and will be just the same when I come back to them
    later. Without this, I live the constant frustration of knowing that I’m missing big blocks of
    and expectations, and am helpless to do anything about it.
  • 10Things
    Focus and build on what I can do rather than what I can’t do.
    Like any person, I can’t learn in an environment where I’m constantly made to feel that I’m not
    good enough and that I need fixing. I avoid trying anything new when I’m sure all I’ll get is criticism,
    no matter how “constructive” you think you’re being. Look for my strengths and you will find them.
    There is more than one right way to do most things.
  • 10Things

    Help me with social interactions.

    It may look like I don’t want to play with the other kids on the playground, but it may be
    that I simply do not know how to start a conversation or join their play. Teach me how
    to play with others. Encourage other children to invite me to play along. I might be
    delighted to be included. I do best in structured play activities that have a clear beginning
    and end. I don’t know how to read facial expressions, body language, or the emotions
    of others. Coach me. If I laugh when Emily falls off the slide, it’s not that I think it’s funny.
    It’s that I don’t know what to say. Talk to me about Emily’s feelings and teach me to ask,
    “Are you okay?”

  • 10Things

    Identify what triggers my meltdowns.

    Meltdowns and blow-ups are more horrid for me than they are for you. They occur because
    one or more of my senses has gone into overload, or because I’ve been pushed past the
    limit of my social abilities. If you can figure out why my meltdowns occur, they can be
    prevented. Keep a log noting times, settings, people, and activities. A pattern may emerge.
    Remember that everything I do is a form of communication. It tells you, when my words cannot,
    how I’m reacting to what is happening around me.
    My behavior may have a physical cause. Food allergies and sensitivities sleep problems and
    gastrointestinal problems can all affect my behavior. Look for signs, because I may not be able
    to tell you about these things.


  • 10Things
    Love me unconditionally.
    Throw away thoughts like, “If you would just—” and “Why can’t you—?” You didn’t fulfill
    every expectation your parents had for you and you wouldn’t like being constantly reminded
    it. I didn’t choose to have autism. Remember that it’s happening to me, not you. Without
    your support, my chances of growing up to be successful and independent are slim. With
    your support and guidance, the possibilities are broader than you might think.
    Three words we both need to live by: Patience. Patience. Patience.
    View my autism as a different ability rather than a disability. Look past what you may see as
    limitations and see my strengths. I may not be good at eye contact or conversation, but have
    you noticed that I don’t lie, cheat at games, or pass judgment on other people?
    I rely on you. All that I might become won't happen without you as my foundation. Be my advocate, be
    my guide, love me for who I am, and we'll see how far I can go.

  • 10Things
    A big thank you to Emily Yoder-Scheider, RHS Class of 1997, for taking these photos.
    And thank you to Lorrie Beard for editing the photos.