Growing up, we all knew who was “in” and who was “out”. We knew that this kid was cool and this kid was not. We knew who belonged to the jock clique, the band clique, the smart clique, the stoner clique and the kids who didn’t belong to any clique. And I know that even though we knew about it, we lived it, and sometimes we were hurt by it, we did not have access to where we belonged and where we didn’t 24 hours a day, 7 days a week like our kids do today. The Social Media Sh** Show is a show our kids sit through every single day, even if they didn’t buy a ticket.
 
Last weekend was Ryan’s high school homecoming dance. He got ready alone, he ate dinner alone and he stood in the endless line to get in alone. I tried hard not to let my sadness of seeing him standing in a line of hundreds of kids alone overshadow the courage it took to stand in that line alone, but, I still sobbed as I pulled away. Then I went home and looked on Facebook…the grandest of The Social Media Sh** Shows and I cried harder.
 
I saw this kid who likes Ryan, that kid who admires Ryan, this kid who was in the musical with Ryan and that kid who sat next to Ryan in Algebra all smiling with their dates, their friends, their clique. I get it, I’m not naïve enough to think that on one of the holiest days of the high school year, kids are going to go out of their way to think outside their social circle and include someone new, so they certainly aren’t going to include someone they don’t quite get, someone who is “different”. I don’t like it, I think it sucks for my son, but, I honestly recognize that they are teenagers trying to find their own way too.
 
What I don’t understand, is the need to torture myself further by getting my ticket to The Social Media Sh** Show and reinforcing my awareness of the high school hierarchy by continually checking Facebook and Instagram.
 
Yet, with each sharp knife to my heart from this update and that one, I continued to scroll and see face after face that I recognized who all think Ryan is "so sweet". I told myself to put my damn phone down and go open a bottle of wine (I did open the wine, but, kept scrolling as I poured). I thought to myself, maybe I should have posted a photo of Ryan standing in line alone to see the impact that might have, but, I knew it would have little impact on the kids because, well, they are kids, but, then I thought maybe such a stark picture of what reality is like for some kids would have had an effect on parents. Then as I continued to scroll, I realized we parents feed into the frenzy.
 
We spend hundreds of dollars on the clothes, the nails, and the hair. We rent limos, make dinner reservations, secure a perfect place for the perfect photos, and pray our kids get invited to “the” after homecoming party. I’m not pointing a finger at anyone, unless of course I’m standing in front of a mirror, because I was just as guilty of chumming the waters when my oldest kid was “in”.
 
All I could think, as my fingers kept scrolling, is that if it hurts me as a mom, imagine what it is doing to our kids? Imagine what it must feel like to pick up their phone, enter their pass code and within seconds they see and they know right where they stand that day and where they don’t. They can see instantly as it is happening if they made the cut or not.
 
It. Must. Be. AWFUL.
 
Here is the funny thing, as hard as The Social Media Sh** Show is on me, my Ryan could care less about it. Even if they were giving tickets away to the show that included a lifetime supply of Auntie Anne’s Cinnamon Sugar Pretzel Nuggets, he still wouldn’t go. He has a Facebook account which he NEVER uses, an Instagram account that he might look at once every other month and no Snapchat or Twitter accounts. Some might argue that since social struggles are a hallmark sign of individuals with autism that it makes sense Ryan isn’t interested in the social going on’s of others. Some might argue that the pain of not being included is too much so that’s why he has no interest. And some might believe that since Ryan doesn’t have many friends, he would never get followers and likes, so what's the point? I'm here to tell you that it is none of that, and I ought to know, because I went straight to the source.
 
And in Ryan’s words, “Social media is about people acting ridiculous and that’s not who I am plus, I think it’s a complete and total waste of time.” Where were those words of wisdom on Saturday night when I spent two hours wasting my time on The Social Media Sh** Show when I could have watched two episodes of Outlander?! 

Once again, Ryan has proven that he is smarter than me…smarter than most of us.
 
Ryan came home from the homecoming dance and said it was “great”. He met a friend there, he danced and he stayed for an hour and a half. Do I think he would have liked to have been included for something with someone before the dance? Of course I do. Do I think that if he would have been included that he would have immediately posted a pic of that moment on social media for everyone to see? Of course I don’t, because in his words, “What’s the point of it?”
 
Exactly.
 
I read an article once by a researcher who believes that autistic individuals are more evolved than neurotypicals. Well, in the world of social media, my kid is a young man walking on two feet and I am still scampering around on all fours like an ape. I guess that puts him in the Evolved Clique. We should all aspire to be in that clique and I hope someday I am...right after I post this blog to my Facebook Page.

​I sat at my bestie's kitchen counter and tried to put into words my feelings as I fought hard to hold back the tears. I rambled, I stammered. I said things like, "I know it might not bother him the way it bothers me..." and "I know kids might not see him as a close friend..." and "...after all these years, it still feels like a knife in my heart". She nodded, she empathized, she understood. Then in seven simple words, she stopped my rambling, "You want someone to think of him."

No more rambling, no more stammering. In seven simple words, my bestie summed up the words in my heart that my brain couldn't seem to muster. Yes, it's that simple, I want someone to think of him.

To parents loving a child with autism, I know you will get how profound those words were to me. The words may not seem Maya Angelou like for many of you, but, for moms who “get it”, we would like that quote on a bracelet, in a meme and for this mom, those seven words might possibly be my next tattoo.
 
Like every parent everywhere, we want someone, just one person, to think of our child. For parents loving a child with autism, we have watched repeatedly how those someones may want to try with our child, but, they just don't quite know how to do it, so they quickly give up, walk away and stop trying which leaves our kids isolated and alone. Frequently.  

We have also watched our children try with those someones too and more often than not, our kids walk away too...feeling confused, overwhelmed and ready to run back to that isolation. Until the next time they sum up their courage to try again.

I want someone to think of him and that has been all I have wanted since the first time we heard The A Word.

When I found him at daycare under the slide alone not knowing how to play, I wanted someone to think of him and sit silently next to him digging in the dirt.

When he stood by the doors of his elementary school waiting for recess to end so he no longer had to worry about bugs, thunderstorms, and wind, I wanted someone to think of him and stand by the door next to him while he waited for the bell to ring.

When he sat alone with only his mother, the chaperone, on every single field trip, I wanted someone to think of him and come sit next to us at our empty table.

When he invited friends to his birthday parties I wanted someone to think of him and reciprocate the invitation when their birthday celebration came around.

When he struggles with what to say or do next in a social setting, I want someone to think of him by helping him out with prompts or suggestions on how to respond.

When he doesn't say or do the "right" thing, I want someone to think of him and suggest what he should say or do the next time so he isn't afraid to try.

When he pulls away because he fears rejection or some type of social blunder, I want someone to think of him by always standing by his side and making him feel like he belongs and that he is not less.
 
When he struggles with initiating a conversation among his peers, I want someone to think of him and talk to him about Pokemon or Minecraft, his safety net, so that he will feel like he belongs somewhere and that someone cares about his interests. 
 
When the musical, the play, the chorus recital or the school year ends, I want someone to think of him and ask him to join them for pizza or a movie or better yet, some Pokemon raids.

When he feels less, I want someone to think of him and assure him he is more by accepting him and being his friend.

I want someone to think of him. 

And yes, I'm aware that these statements all begin with "I" want, not "He" wants, and I don’t proclaim to know what Ryan wants at all times, but, I do know that he has felt invisible, that he has felt isolated and alone and that there are times, HE wants someone to think of him.

A note to teachers:

As parents, we may have spent years grappling with and accepting our child's disability. We may have searched high and low to explain this behavior or that learning struggle. Once our child received a diagnosis, a label, we had to accept it and then we struggled with what to do next.

"Next" typically came in the form of internet searches, speaking with "experts" and probably even coming to you for advice on how to help our child learn and how to help them be successful in your classroom.

"Next" also included hours preparing and attending INDIVIDUALIZED Educational Program meetings, coming up with accommodations and SPECIALLY Designed Instruction for our INDIVIDUAL child. Chances are in those meetings we cried, we rejoiced and we tried to be your partner in our child's INDIVIDUALIZED journey.

For our children who learn differently, "next" for them meant spending hours crying over homework, trying to learn like the next kid and trying to fit the proverbial mold that was not ever intended for them. Our children want to have A's and B's, they want to feel confident and smart, they want to rejoice at all the victories, big and small, but, mostly, they want to learn and be successful. They need you to teach them.

Our children who learn differently are not trying to make your job hard or your day long, in fact, they can see in your face and hear in your words your frustration and to them your frustration feels like disappointment. Again. They just want you to accept them and help them, in any way you can. They need you to help them break the mold.

They trust you, and so do we.

So, out of respect for our children who learn differently and continue to try and be successful in an educational system that is not a one size fits all system, and out of respect for all that we as parents have done to try and help them succeed,  what we are begging you to do "next" is take the time to actually READ the INDIVIDUALIZED Education Program, not because helping kids learn is in your job description, but, because helping kids, ALL kids, succeed is in your heart.

Thank you,

Parents
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P.S. We are grateful to the many teachers who take the time to read the IEP's for each of their students, who go out of their way every day to change the mold to fit each of their students, but, we parents (and our kids) are fully aware there are some teachers who absolutely, without question, do not.