I spend a lot of time explaining Henry’s disability to people — teachers, coaches, other parents. I try to do this proactively, before there is an issue or a problem, because I want to be sure that everyone understands that I’m not making excuses for him. He occasionally needs specific accommodations in order to succeed, but beyond that, I don’t want anyone letting him off the hook just because he’s different.
But it can be hard to distinguish an explanation from an excuse, and Henry and I are both having to work to see the difference.
The summer before sixth grade, we took Henry back to the psychologist who initially diagnosed his ADHD (when he was five) for another round of testing. This time she gave us a slightly new set of labels to work with: generalized anxiety disorder, disorder of written expression (or dysgraphia, if you’re old school like I am), ADHD (again) and sensory processing disorder. Taken together, she told us, it added up to Asperger syndrome, and she gave us some recommendations on ways to talk with Henry about being an Aspie, as well as resources and strategies for helping him connect with other kids like him.
We had known two things going into this round of evaluations: the first was that we would need to talk with his teachers about his quirks and how they affected his ability to function at school, both socially and academically. The second — and in our minds, the more difficult — part was going to be talking to Henry. Because the last thing any kid wants to hear, particularly in middle school, is that he’s different from his peers.
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