Autism as a disability, or “the D word”

Two of my friends recently used the word “disability” in connection with Singularity in two separate conversations. In both cases, Singularity’s peers had excused some of Singularity’s unexpected behavior on account of his disability. (The term “unexpected behavior” comes to us from Michelle Garcia Winner’s “social thinking” curriculum.)

Did I ever mention that we are incredibly fortunate to be part of a school community that does an excellent job of educating children about autism and promoting tolerance of all kinds of differences? Right, I probably do that in many posts I write here. But it never hurts to be grateful.

Anyway, I confess to being taken aback at hearing the word disability. I didn't feel offended that they might think of him that way, just startled. You see, I don’t really think of Singularity as being disabled. I just think of him as, well, himself. In most ways, I am not blind to the degree to which he requires accommodation. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about and making arrangements to accommodate Singularity. But when I think about my relationship with him, we are both just who we are – no accommodations needed. Or maybe much of my approach to him is accommodation, but I’m so used to it that it seems normal.

Klailklop (my husband and Singularity's father) just read the paragraph above and asked whether I didn't think that every relationship is accommodation. Indeed. However, I also think that most relationships involve reciprocal accommodation, but relationships with Singularity tend to rest upon the other person's ability to accommodate him. And there's the disability part.

I also see Singularity’s autism as the wellspring of his superpowers and his unique view of the world. One of his superpowers is mathematical ability. Warning: if you are not interested in math and geometry, you may want to scroll down a few screens!

One of Singularity’s current special interests is solid geometry. We have pages and pages of information about it in Singularity’s math binder, which we started Singularity was in first grade and became obsessed with enormity in general and exponents in particular. This is our second time around with solid geometry, as he was quite interested in it toward the end of second grade. (He is in fourth grade now.)

Singularity was interested in Pascal’s Triangle, a triangular array of numbers that leads in many interesting directions. And he has recently been interested in the sequence of Triangular numbers. 

The sequence of these numbers is present in  the diagonal line starting at the first (or last) 1 in the third row of Pascal’s Triangle.

Is it common for high-functioning people on the autism spectrum to love triangular numbers? Daniel Tammett writes about his childhood interest in triangular numbers in his autism memoir, Born on a Blue Day.

Anyway, this week, Singularity  started talking about “tetrahedronal numbers”. Now, I don’t think that he read about them anywhere, although he does have excellent information-seeking skills. I think that he was thinking about triangular numbers and tetrahedra (otherwise known as a pyramid with a triangular base) and realized that you can build a tetrahedron by stacking triangular layers on top of each other. It is interesting (to me at least) to note that the sequence of tetrahedral numbers is present in the diagonal line starting at the first 1 of the fourth row of Pascal’s Triangle. 

Here’s the page I had to write out to make sense of tetrahedral numbers for myself:

This is an amazing synthesis of information from Pascal’s Triangle and solid geometry. As you can see, Singuarity’s autism can a great strength. His brain is wired up a bit differently, and it helps him to make this kind of mental leap.

While I’m here talking about disability and strengths, I thought that it would be interesting to do a quick review of some other perspectives on the disability status of autism:

• The Social Security Administration considers autism a disability, and people with autism who are not able to work as the result of their autism may be eligible to receive disability benefits. 
• The disability rights community has fought valiantly over the last fifty or so years to eliminate discrimination against people with disabilities, and we can thank them for such landmark pieces of legislation as the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA).  IDEA specifically addresses autism as one of the “umbrellas” under which educational services are provided, via the loved and hated instrument of the Individual Education Program (IEP).
• Many members of the autism self-advocacy community, such as the Autistic Self Advocacy Network  (ASAN), also embrace the view of autism as a disability. The neurodiversity movement is an outgrowth of the self-advocacy community and sees autism not as a disease to be cured, but rather part of the natural variation in humanity. 

It is the neurodiversity movement that I find particularly encouraging. They have done an excellent job of highlighting the special abilities of high-functioning people on the autism spectrum while also advocating for appropriate levels of accommodation for others who are affected more severely by autism, and it is becoming more common for corporations and universities to seek out autistic people for jobs in research labs, and as programmers and software testers. As Temple Grandin is often quoted, "Some guy with high-functioning Asperger's developed the first stone spear; it wasn't developed by those social ones yakking around the campfire." These employers are prepared to make accommodations for the disabling aspects of autism in order to have access to what these workers uniquely have to offer. It gives me, as an autism mom, a great feeling of hope that there will be a place in the world for my treasured child to live a happy and productive life.