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.
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