A hair-dryer kid in a toaster-brained world

When my son Bud was in fourth grade, his teacher invited me to talk with his classmates. They had approached her with a lot of questions about Bud and about autism. She knew his classmates cared about him and that their questions were coming from a good place, but she was not sure how to answer them. So she handed out index cards and asked them to write down their questions, and then she passed their questions on to me. They were incredible:

What is autisim
Do you know all the Diffrent ways Bud learns?
How come nose bother Bud so much
Why Dose Bud repet so many lines from TV shows or movies?
Why Dose Bud Have to move so much?
- What disability does Bud have?
- Please explain.
- Was he born this way?
- How did it happen?
- What goes on in Bud's head?
- Why does he repeat things?
- Why does he run in circles?
- How can I help?
- How come Bud gets attatched to people and then always wants to be with that person?
- Does Bud know he's different?
- Why does Bud have Awesome hearing?
1. When Bud grows up will he be like us or will he be like he is now?
2. Why can't he say stuff in full sentenses like when he keeps saying the same word in one sentens?
3. Everybody thinks he's much different then us. Is he reely much different?
4. Why is he like that? Is that the way he was born?
5. does he know that hes different from us.
Why does Bud have such sensitive hearing?
How do you deal with Autisum?
How does Bud have such great humor sometimes?
Why does Bud repeat things that are on TV? Why doesn't Bud not like to be with oter kids? And how can I be a person Bud would like to hang out with? Please anwser. (PS. Does Bud know that hes diferent?)
1. What is otizim?
2. Does it help you?
3. Was Bud born with Otizim?
4. Is Otizim suff you need to take meds?
Why does Bud repeat things?
Why does the fire alarm noise scare him?
What is atisum?
How can I help Bud not worry about things.
Why is Bud scard of loud noises.
Why does Bud move in circles?
Why does Bud always miss you.
Does Bud know that he is different from some other people.
- How different is Bud from us?
- What are Bud's conditions?
- What was Bud born with?
- How dose Bud's brain work?
1. how does Bud think?
2. What is Why does he need Movement breaks?
3 Wyy Why does loud noises bother him?
4 Why does he repeat things?
5 How can I help?
6 Does he know he's diffrent?
7
My Questin are
1. What is otisem
2. What dose Bud thinck like
3. Dose Bud have otisem
4. Why dose Bud hate loud noses
thease are the questins I want to know if these questins are parsin that is fine I don't mind
5 How can help Bud
6 dose Bud Hate thunder storms
7 dose Bud know He's diffrent
Bud is funny, exciting, and a REALLY good friend
1) how does he remember things from really long times ago?
2) Why does he walk in circles and murmer to himself?
3) What do pills help him do?
4) What can I do to be a better friend to Bud?
5) is it always quiet in your house just for Bud?
6) Why does he hate it so much when it's loud?

I had no idea what I would say to Bud’s classmates, but I agreed right away to set a time to meet with them. We decided it would be best to make it optional for the students and to hold the meeting at a time when Bud was doing something else.

Ultimately, we decided to hold the meeting over lunch and recess, and to my surprise, almost all of Bud’s classmates decided to stay for the discussion. It was amazing. I'd prepared myself for some snickering. I'd prepared myself for some walls of coolness and some discomfort with difference. But the classroom was completely void of attitude. There was plenty of laughter, but it was the laughter of recognition and understanding. There was plenty of laughing with, without a hint of laughing at.

I'd planned a presentation and I'd hoped for some conversation, but I had no idea how eager these children would be to interact. They were fully engaged, their hands flying in the air, their eyes shining, hoping for the opportunity to let me know how well they knew Bud, what they had seen, what they had wondered, what they already knew and understood. And as they spoke, I realized: they got him. They may not have known why he was the way he was, but they understood and respected that he was the way he was.

They had all gone down to the cafeteria to get their lunches, which they brought back to the classroom. They arranged their desks in a circle, and we began.

I started by thanking them for inviting me to their class. "I hope you know," I said, "that you are really, really important people to Bud. He doesn't always show friendship the way other people do, but believe me—you are important to him. He talks about you all the time."

They grinned their response.

"I also want to thank you for asking such great questions." I held up their index cards. "Your questions were fantastic, and they tell me that you really pay attention to Bud."

Dan raised his hand. "I wasn't here the day they wrote cards," he said. "But I do have some questions."

"That's great, " I told him. "How about if I answer the questions that other people have asked first, and then if I haven't answered your questions, you can ask me more about them."

Dan agreed, and I turned to the rest of the class. "You can all ask more questions. Sometimes when something seems different, people can get nervous about asking questions, but I want you to know that I want you to ask questions. It's the best way to learn about things you don't understand."

My intro was over, and it was time to get into my answers to the questions they'd written. I'd prepared ten pages of notes. I wanted to help the kids understand Bud's differences, but I didn't want to present him as "other," as though he were an alien living among them, as though there were something wrong with him, so I'd developed some analogies—some things that I hoped would help them relate Bud's experience to their own.

The first one felt the riskiest. It was my make-or-break analogy—the one on which the rest of the presentation hinged. If it didn't resonate with them—or, worse, if it seemed lame—I was afraid I'd lose them. I knew that one ill-placed snarky comment from one of the kids could make the whole thing unravel.

So I took a breath, and I started talking.

"The first question that lots and lots of you asked is ‘What is autism?’

"Autism is something that people are born with—you either have autism or you don’t have it. You can’t catch it.

"Having autism means that your brain is put together differently. Your brain still works perfectly well. It just does things differently from other people’s brains.

"Let’s think about the brain as a machine. You know that your brain controls everything you do. You use your brain to think about things and to make your body do things. Your brain also controls things that you don’t even think about. You don’t have to remember to breathe because your brain does it automatically for you. You don’t have to remember to blink because your brain does it. So, sometimes you USE your brain to do things and sometimes your brain just does things because that’s what it’s wired to do.

"The same thing is true in autism. Bud uses his brain for everything, too. But because there are differences in the way his brain is connected, there are differences in the way his brain reacts to things.

"Now, we all know that your brain is a machine that's made of tissue and neurons and nerve cells. But let’s pretend it was a simpler machine. Let’s pretend your brain wasn't made of tissue and neurons and nerve cells, but instead, it was made of metal and plastic and electrical wires. And let's pretend that when you put that metal and plastic and electrical wire together, it turned into a toaster."

Here, the class laughed—the good kind of laughter. I carried on. They were with me.

"And let’s pretend that MOST of us had toaster brains. Some of us might make white toast and some wheat toast or rye toast, and some of us might make light toast and some of us dark toast. Some of us might only toast bagels, and sometimes we might even burn the toast, but for the most part, all of our brains would be able to do the same thing: make toast.

"Now, think about the pretend world that we have just created. In our world, MOST people have toaster brains. So, when we make the rules for our world and decide how we want to spend our time, what do you think we’ll decide is the MOST important thing a person can do?"

Nora raised her hand. "Always try hard and do our very best?"

"Yes!" I said. "And WHEN we do our very best, we will be doing a great job making..."

"Toast!" they responded in unison.

"Yes! Because we have brains that are really GOOD at making toast—so we will want to have a world where it's REALLY important and REALLY valuable to make toast. Right?"

Heads nodded around the room.

"Now let’s pretend that Bud’s brain is ALSO made of metal and plastic and electrical wires, just like our brains, except that when HIS metal and plastic and electrical wires get put together, they turn into a totally different kind of machine. Instead of being a TOASTER, Bud's metal and plastic and electrical wires turn into a HAIR DRYER."

I swear, I heard gasps.

"Now, there’s nothing WRONG with a hair dryer, right? Hair dryers are great! There are some things that hair dryers are really good for. There are some things that a hair dryer can do even BETTER than a toaster. But it is REALLY, REALLY hard to make toast with a hair dryer."

They laughed again, and nodded, and totally, completely got it.

"So, in our pretend world, even though Bud has a perfectly wonderful hair dryer brain, it’s going to be hard for him, because we toaster-brained people have decided that the most important thing that people do in our world is make toast. And Bud probably can make toast with his hair dryer, right? But he is going to have to work a lot harder to make toast with his hair-dryer brain than we will with our toaster brains. It will probably take him a lot longer to make his toast. And no matter how hard he works, his hair-dryer toast will probably always look different from our toaster toast."

The room filled with murmurs of understanding.

"But, on the other hand—think about THIS! When we toaster-brain people have wet hair? We are REALLY going to hope that Bud and his hair-dryer brain are around."

Nathan piped in. "Because we could get ZAPPED if we tried to use our toasters!"

"Exactly," I continued. "And the same thing is true in the real world with our real brains, that are made of tissue and neurons and grey matter and, uh..."

"And important stuff," offered Travis.

"Yeah, and important stuff," I said. "Because for most of us, when that important stuff gets put together, we have a certain type of brain. And we have created a society that says the most important things are the things that most of our brains are really good at—things like:

"Talking and communicating with people;

"Making friends and spending time with people;

"Doing lots of different kinds of things, having lots of different kinds of interests, and trying new things.

"Most of our brains are really GOOD at those things, so we try to spend most of our time doing them. But those are all things that, because of his autism, Bud’s brain has a really hard time doing.

"Language is difficult for him and he doesn't talk the same way as other people.

"Being social and knowing how to interact with people is difficult for him.

"Changing his routine and trying new things is difficult for him."

The classroom resonated with affirmation. Bud's classmates knew exactly what I was talking about. They knew, without me explaining any further, what kinds of behaviors I was talking about. I could see the understanding in their faces.

"But remember how there were some things that the hair-dryer brains could do better than the toaster brains? There are ALSO things that Bud’s brain is really GOOD at doing. There are things that HIS brain can do better than a lot of our brains can do.

"I bet you can guess what some of those things are. Can you?"

Hands flew up all over the room, and without my prompting, they recreated the list I had written in the notes in front of me.

"He's really great on the computer. He's better at it than LOTS of people."

"He has great hearing."

"He can remember lots of lots of things."

"He can remember all the words to TV shows."

"And he can remember the words to songs."

"He is very musical."

"He's a great speller, too," I added. "Once he learns a word, he usually remembers how to spell it."

"If I had a brain like that," said Nathan, "I'd read the whole dictionary and learn all the words."

"That would be a great thing to do," I said. "And it reminds me that Bud is also a really good reader."

Molly raised her hand. "And he has a great sense of humor, too."

"He does have a great sense of humor," I said. "And that's one of the ways that his brain is a lot like other people's. What are some of the other ways that Bud is just like everyone else?"

Again, the hands flew up.

"He can see just like everyone else."

"He looks just like everyone else."

"He's human."

"Yes! He's human—which means that he has all the same feelings that everyone else does. And he loves the people in his life. And he likes to play and have fun. He likes to laugh, he likes to swim, he likes to eat pizza. In lots of ways, Bud is just a regular kid."

I looked around the room at the smiling faces of Bud's classmates—his friends, with their toaster brains firing.

"But a lot of your questions were about some of the ways that Bud is different from you and about the things that are harder for him than they are for a lot of other toaster-brained people. So, let’s talk about some of those questions.”

Coming soon: The rest of the questions.

This post is a compilation of writing that first appeared on the blog Mom-Not Otherwise Specified in February and March of 2010. It was revised in 2022.

Image is a picture my son took of his hand when he was five years old, which I used as the logo of the Mom-Not Otherwise Specified blog.