Response to the tragedy, from an inclusion perspective

This is a difficult post to write. I’ve been writing it in my head for days, as I struggle to process what occurred in Newtown, Connecticut last week. I can’t stop thinking about the pain the families are experiencing right now, the heroism of the staff at Sandy Hook Elementary who put the lives of the children before their own, and also about my own friends who have small children and how vulnerable they must be feeling right now. But, below all of that something else is stirring in me. Early on in the news coverage I began to hear speculation that the shooter (I am choosing not to use his name) had a diagnosis of Asperger syndrome. My first response was irritation at the media. This was reported without confirmation, and was based on young people who had gone to high school with him, and as they said, “had been told he had Asperger’s.” I was very concerned that this would lead to more stereotyping of people with Asperger’s, and showed a general misunderstanding of the diagnosis by the public at large. I felt it would do a great disservice to the autism community, and I was concerned.

Several days later the diagnosis was confirmed, and many medical experts came out saying that there is no link between autism spectrum disorders and violence. And, in fact, individuals with a diagnosis of autism or Asperger’s are more likely to be victims of violence then perpetrators of it. While these statements are important, I am not sure this is enough to counterbalance the public perception as we all engage in sense-making in why a tragedy like this would occur.

While I believe that the Asperger’s diagnosis is irrelevant to the crime, and is just another descriptor of the person who committed the most terrible crime imaginable, I can’t help but listen to what his classmates and others who knew him are saying. In a 60 Minutes interview on Sunday night a young woman who sat behind him in a high school class made a statement (that I am paraphrasing), “He kept to himself and wanted to be left alone, and so we all did. I never saw him talking to anyone.” One of the misconceptions about people with autism spectrum disorders is that they “want to be alone.” I can’t help but wonder what isolation and a lack of feeling connected to your community does to a person.

So, in addition to the other changes I hope we make as a country as a result of this tragedy, including stricter gun control and better mental health services, I hope that as a field of people who care for children we add a commitment to the list. I would like us to rededicate ourselves to caring for every child in our classrooms, our programs and our communities. To look beyond a façade of “not caring” or “wanting to be alone” and reach out to know every child we care for. To help them find their way in the world, and to help them make connections when they struggle to do it on their own. Some children are harder to love than others. They don’t try to please you as other children do. But they need you too. It is often those children who need you the most.

If you, or the staff at your organization feel like you need help understanding, supporting or serving children in your program, we invite you to reach out to Kids Included Together. We have a team of inclusion specialists who can help you work to make sure that every child feels a sense of belonging and connectedness to you, their peers and their community.