Useful metaphors for explaining Autism to NeuroTypicals - Part 1

The Autism "Puzzle" is a fairly loaded metaphor.
There are multiple understandings of what it is meant
to symbolize, and some Autists are insulted by the
"missing piece" and dehumanizing connotations
which are among the symbolisms regularly referenced.

April 2nd, 2010 was World Autism Awareness Day.  April is National Autism Awareness Month in the United States of America.  People and buildings across maps are decking themselves out in blue and puzzle-themed paraphernalia.  In a very general sense, it seems to be working.  These days, if I take my son to the park, other parents much more easily wrap their judgment in the casual politesse of, "Oh, he's Autistic, right?"  And yet, their that-solves-that is tinted by confusion, and shaded still with the fear that the riddle of my child might be contagious.  They'll oh-so-kindly ask for my number so perhaps their whisked-away-child and mine can play together again -- they know enough to know I must be pining for acceptance -- and yet they never use the number, if I give it.  There's sympathy, but not empathy.  There's increased awareness, but understanding hasn't caught up yet.

Since understanding tends to precede not just tolerance, but acceptance, I thought I'd make my first article within Autism Awareness Month one about some metaphors I, personally, have found useful in explaining facets of my child's Autism, to NeuroTypicals.  There is some irony in the fact that I've found metaphors one of the most useful tools in this endeavor, of course, because one stereotype of Autism itself -- based particularly on Autists at the Asperger's Syndrome end of the spectrum -- is that Autists do not use, and cannot understand metaphor.  This would be slightly more ironic if I was an Autist myself, but all the same it is prone to frustrating many of the adult Autists I know who do fit that particular stereotype.  Regardless...

Let's begin tangentially, with that same stereotypical set of traits: that Autists use and relate to language differently than most neurotypicals do; they don't "get" indirect language forms such as simile and metaphor, irony, sarcasm, some forms of humor, colloquialisms, or things such as dishonesty, even in its "nicer" forms, such as diplomacy, or "tactful" avoidance of certain conversational taboos.  While this is not always the case, it can be.  Unfortunately, the sense that Autists to whom these things apply are speaking another language, even while using the same one, can trigger that, "They must be an idiot" reflex that too many Americans have when faced with someone who isn't fluent in their tongue, before thinking about the fact that they are probably fluent in their own language.  Well, those that maintain that reaction even after thinking about it, I can't do much about with this metaphor....but for the rest, I've found using the language-fluency metaphor to be useful.  Some Autists are, while using the same words, syntax and grammar, actually speaking a slightly different language than we are, because -- lo and behold -- they are coming, metaphorically speaking, from a different place.  Think about it.  If you visit almost any country outside of the United States, you will find that word-to-word-translation-style-fluency will still leave you at a loss, because all of those indirect language patterns and "rules", and how they are used, are at least somewhat different.  It's the difference between the textbook fluency gained through language classes and textbooks, and the conversational fluency gained through learning from someone who lived wherever the other language is used.  It's not that a NeuroTypical and an Autist necessarily don't ask the same kinds of questions or have the same kinds of answers, there's just a language barrier in-between them, which needs to be broken by a translation that understands differences in how the language is used by each.

What happens if you're telling this to someone who has difficulty understanding the "coming from a different place" part of the metaphor -- because they don't, after all, understand much about Autism yet -- and decides to mouth off (and imagine what THAT calls to mind, for someone who takes it literally) about the fact that an Autist-in-question is in the same place they are, so why the-rest-of-the-metaphor?  Ask them if they've ever had to use a computer that, for whatever reason, had it's default language coded in to be something other than the common language of the country the computer was sitting in.  The computer was capable of functioning within the more expected language, but they had to go in and change the settings, right?  For an Autist-in-question, the language issue can be kind of like that.  They have the information inside them, and are capable of using it, but effort needs to be made to change and then apply what doesn't come most naturally to them. 

I've actually found that the majority of the metaphors I've used with success are technology-based.  Perhaps this is because it's a point of common knowledge/experience among most people these days.  Although today's children are more tech-savvy than many people of my own generation were even in college, I do find, though, that the tech-based metaphors make more sense to adults.  So, before getting into more of those, I'd like to share how I dealt with the commonly-dreaded question of, "What's wrong with him?" when it came from a NeuroTypical child.  In my case, the child was a twelve year old, and also, my son's neurological disabilities come from his medical history of extreme prematurity and other life-threatening conditions at birth; both of these things shaped how I phrased my answer, but I expect they can be adapted to suit a range of other circumstances. I was bad, I admit, and answered her question with another question.

I asked her if she'd ever had a test coming up in school -- maybe the first test of the year, so before she knew what the teacher tended to do -- that the teacher had told the class about on Monday, and she'd thought the test was going to be on Friday, but when she checked her planner Tuesday night, she realized she'd misremembered, and the test was really the next day, Wednesday, instead.  She'd nodded, with a vaguely haunted expression, so I went on.  I told her to think about how she probably rushed to study as much as she could, but there wasn't really enough time to practice, and the next day when she took the test, she was probably pretty stressed not just because she'd had to rush her way through not enough study time, but because she just hadn't been expecting to have to do this yet, and the rest of the class looked a lot more confident.  She probably made mistakes, maybe put some multiple-choice circles in the wrong spots, or didn't write her essay very clearly even though she knew what she wanted to say, because of all this.  It was probably really frustrating to her, because she was a very smart girl, and she knew she should've been able to do better.  Her grade in the class was affected, there was no way around it, but with enough time and hard work she could bring it back up to almost what it would've been if she hadn't had that rough start, and if she got enough chances for extra credit, she could totally make up for it.  She was still nodding a lot.  Well, I told her, my son kind of had/has the same problem.  He was born before he was done getting ready for life, and because he was born sick, it was very important that he rush to get ready for a LOT.  Because he was rushing and stressed out, his brain made mistakes.  With enough time and hard work, he can still do well, but it's important that he doesn't feel bad, or stupid, and give up.  ...Now, please consider my use of the word "mistakes" within the context.  That girl left the conversation with an answer she understood, and with a comfortable empathy for my child.

I wouldn't be the first person to ever suggest that it can sometimes be harder to explain things to an adult than to a child, because the adult already thinks they know more.  I've certainly had to explain what is and isn't "wrong" with my son more often to adults than to children, and it isn't because they outright ask more often.  With that in mind, move on to Part 2 for more of the metaphors I've found useful in explaining facets of Autism...