RIGHTS OF ADULTS WITH AUTISM

Merlin L. Taylor, Jr. has sent in "RIGHTS OF ADULTS WITH AUTISM"



RIGHTS OF ADULTS WITH AUTISM
1. Right of access—equal to that of any other member of the community—to all community facilities
2. Right to confidentiality of communications with helping professionals
3. Right to manage one’s own appearance according to one’s own tastes (within legal limits)
4. Right to education and training that fits the following criteria
a. Adapted as necessary to individual weaknesses and strengths
b. Appropriate to age and abilities
c. Relevant to individual needs and desires
5. Right to engage—without force, hindrance or manipulation—in interpersonal relationships, including (but not limited to) relationships that are
a. Clinical (e.g., with a physician or therapist—unlike other relationships, these cannot be combined with any other type of relationship)
b. Mentoring (wherein exchange of knowledge is involved)
c. Occupational/professional (in the workplace)
d. Personal (e.g., friendships)
e. Social (e.g., members of the same church congregation)
f. Sexual (with legal adults, by the consent of all involved)
6. Right to experience the natural consequences—positive and negative—of one’s own actions
7. Right to freedom from harassment, repression and violence
8. Right to request and receive—or to refuse—necessary assistance from willing and able individuals (e.g.: treatment from a physician, mentoring from a teacher, etc.)
9. Right to request and receive—or to refuse—physical touch from willing and able individuals
10. Right to request and receive protection by appropriate legal authorities against violations of one’s rights
11. Right to request and receive respect for one’s own
a. Sensibilities
b. Humanity
c. Individuality
d. Ethnic and cultural background
e. Sexuality and gender
12. Right of self-advocacy (speaking out for one’s own interests vocally and/or in writing)
13. Right of self-defense (both verbally and—as a last resort—physically)
14. Right to self-expression (within legal limits)

Inclusive Education Plan

Dave Farrell has written a piece called "Inclusive Education Plan" from LinkedIn.

Inclusive Education Plan

Let me tell you a true story about a small town in rural New Zealand with a community of less than twenty thousand. Not just Cambridge by name but also Cambridge by education akin to the world's most elite university.

This week my wife and I braced ourselves for the bi-annual Individual Education Plan (I.E.P.) for our twelve year old daughter at the local middle school. A group discussion involving eight adults and a young child - daunting by all accounts. I take care not to share that I am an active autism advocate so as not to add further complication to an involved process.

• Will they cut her funding?
• Is she getting her allocated hours or is the school 'pooling' the funds?
• Are the teachers trained and equipped?
• Is her teacher aide helping or herding?
• Is our daughter being meaningfully included in all activities?

What unfurled was emotional and inspirational.

Her co-teachers understood our daughter's needs - they make the time to ensure she stays abreast - they have created an inclusive class culture where the kids take her with them on every venture, they also refuse options that take her away from the mainstream. Their compassion, empathy and respect is over whelming.

Her two teacher aides - so in touch, relevant and celebrating her astonishing personality. A exceptional triad stretching and comforting one another ensuring challenges are dealt to.

The wonderful representative from the Ministry of Education who listened, directed, suggested and inspired - so sharp with the business at hand yet pertinent to our daughters inclusion and buy-in.

The professional facilitating of the assistant principal showed passion and kept the discussion focused, relevant and uncomplicated.

Did I expect this - not by a long shot considering my involvement and the current publicity of so much that goes wrong in the world of Autism. Here in this precious community people were listening , suggesting, solving and celebrating without prejudice or agenda.

The meeting wound up with each professional recapping their role in the plan of action for the next six months then asked our thoughts.

In the same confidence my daughter portrayed throughout the session she requested the same teachers next year - which in itself says it all. Apart from my wife's comment. "This is the happiest we've seen her."

Enough said.

Inclusion = Unconditional Love + Intent Listening + Meaningful Support + Respect the Individual

Heads up and gratitude to everyone involved throughout the country - IEP can work, it does work. All that needs to change is the 'I' to read Inclusive Education Plan.

I am invisible

Briana has written I am invisible.



“I’m not real, I don’t exist.” This is what I would repeat to myself when I just could not handle things anymore, when I was lost and couldn’t find my way out. It always helped, if only a little. When I got older, I mentioned this particular repetition to someone, who took it as a wish to die. It wasn’t. I have never wanted to die, just to fade away for a bit, and come back when things are not so hard. You see, if I’m not real, if I don’t exist, then whatever is so wrong doesn’t really matter. If I don’t exist, if I am not real, then my world isn’t either. It always made a lot of sense to me. It never occurred to me that wanting to temporarily disappear would make others think I was suicidal. After that I didn’t do it as much, and remembered to never tell a counsellor about that particular coping method. Thinking about it, others are likely to misunderstand my ticking like a clock under my breath, and remembering that everything always ends, just as badly. They were a reminder to myself that I would always get through the bad things, if only I waited long enough. I don’t want things to end prematurely, I want to outlast what breaks me down. My mother always told me that everything will work out, and it always has eventually, with varying degrees of success. I believed her. I still do, most of the time. Even if I forget all the other amazing things she is and does, I love her for making it so I always have hope.
But even if I believe that everything will work out, that we will figure it out, I still often wish to disappear. To revel in the invisibility I have crafted for myself. You see, even with my strangeness and my piercings and my often coloured hair and my tattoos, I am invisible. I have been since second grade, when being smart and crazy turned into a bad thing and I lost all the friends I thought I had. And since third grade, when I made up a game to play with the friends I had left. Together we created a world of magic. I lost them too when I got accused of bullying. I still don’t understand why she didn’t tell me she didn’t want to play. And someone else created a rule I thought was a bad idea anyway, and said so. I got blamed for that too. So I started to create my own worlds. And because I am invisible, I was never bullied. Okay, maybe I just didn’t notice. Girls can be very subtle, and I certainly wasn’t included. But no one ever physically hurt me, or called me names or made fun of me where I could hear them. Except once. 
Someone once told me nobody picked on me because they were afraid of me. Because I have a tendency to look angry, and I am strong and good at ignoring. So far this has been good. I can feel safe walking downtown streets at night. I worry someday It will bite me.
So perhaps I am not always invisible. But I can be. And for now I am okay with that. I listen and watch and learn. I pass for neurotypical most of the time, and avoid the stigma that comes with being openly autistic. I don’t point out the fact that I am aromantic and asexual, and therefore let others assume I am straight. I live on the edge of my life, looking in. But I hope that someday I can be seen, and be okay with that. That I can stim in public and not feel judged. That I can go to pride and not feel like I shouldn’t be there. That I can be colourful and loud and flappy and spinney. And while I hope that others will change their perceptions of acceptable, I will try to be a little more seen, regardless.

The Big Open-Ended Question: On Loving and Accepting My Asperger’s

Magenta has written "The Big Open-Ended Question: On Loving and Accepting My Asperger’s" on The Toast.

The words always stood out ominously: “Tell me about yourself.”

Any time I met potential new friends or went on a date or had a job interview, that’s when I’d get into trouble. Sooner or later, there would be the big open-ended question. Sooner or later I’d have to talk about myself.

I would try and start off by listing and explaining my interests, and then after a while I might say, “Well, I’m a little awkward.” If I were drunk, maybe I would be a little more daring and say, “I’m bad at socializing.” But even if that went over well—and I was constantly afraid of the day it didn’t, the inevitable day when what I hoped would come off as endearing would backfire—I might want to say more, but feel profoundly afraid of doing so.

I always felt the constant spectre of the unsaid, of wanting but not knowing how to disclose who I really am. I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment when I started feeling uncomfortable with who I was; I guess it’s when I realized that simple friendship and even just talking to people was hard for me. I couldn’t tell you at what point I diverged from the rest of the people on my Facebook feed, when they all started getting photographed at pool parties and baby showers that I wasn’t invited to, while I posted selfies and funny subway ads. It is common knowledge that making friends can become harder as you get older and are forced to find your own group – when you’re not at school among your peers, all day, every day. I am aware that I’m not the only person who gets anxious and sad when thinking about her social life (or lack thereof). But for me, much of the anxiety and sadness stems from the feeling that all of this is beyond my control.

Read More on The Toast.