Valerie Paradiz http://www.valerieparadiz.com

Kindred Spirits on the Subway

The other day, as I was on my way to work in the subway, I encountered two “kindred spirits.” It was rush hour in New York City, and even though the day had hardly begun, I was already exhausted. I have been adjusting to my new life as Director of Education at the Asperger Institute, where I’m working with a team of wonderful educators and therapists in New York University’s Child Study Center. Together we are designing and offering a model educational program for children with Asperger’s syndrome.

When I entered the subway heading downtown, I had pressed myself into a crowded car, glad that on this morning I was not feeling overly sensitive to all the bodies sandwiched together and touching mine. Finding no available seat, I held myself steady, grabbing onto the overhead railing above my head, gingerly placing my hand somewhere in the puzzle of other hands and arms that were also clutching for support.

Just then, I saw my two “kindred spirits” enter the subway car, a mother and a small child of 5 or 6 years. “STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS,” a prerecorded subway voice piped in, resounding through our car. In that moment, everyone in the space seemed to compress themselves into even smaller beings, filling up every nook you could find. Once the doors had closed, the train lurched forward and out of the station, gaining speed, hurtling south toward Times Square.

As the subway barreled along, the mother and her small boy were still scrambling to find a secure place to stand. Spotting a slice of open bench where her son could sit down, she pointed at it and said, “You can sit there.” The boy moved toward the narrow spot meant for him, but then he balked. “NO! I won’t sit there,” he shrieked. “I need to get out of here!”

Clearly, he was panicking, and his outburst sent a heavy wave of emotion through all the people standing in the car. Their adult bodies grew taut. Some of their faces squeezed up into expressions of distaste. Others remained flat, seeming not to care.

Since my move to New York City, I have observed that during rush hour, few, if any, people talk on the train. It seems to be an unspoken social rule, part of the “hidden curriculum” for subway riding when the car is packed full like a can of sardines. So, you can imagine what a shrieking child meant in that kind of environment. The boy’s mother was scorned by many of those silent faces. They grimaced at her, then at her child, then back at her again.

The whole scene happened so quickly it took me a while to realize that, in spite of the child’s obvious fear, and in spite of his mother’s efforts to console him and bring him through his anguish, no one got up to offer them a seat. What did stand out for me, however, was that the boy had a comic book clutched beneath his small arm, and in between his screaming and panicky fits, he’d open the book up, boring his eyes into the colorful pictures on the pages, closing out the difficult scene around him.

His mom spoke gently with him, breaking the silence of the train to do so. This meant that all eyes were on her. Having nothing to hold onto to steady herself, she fumbled to keep her son standing upright each time the subway bucked or braked. Then, he’d screech again, trying to break free from her grasp. “Don’t touch me!” he yelled.

This caused a woman sitting near them to shoot a most derisive glare in the child’s direction. “He is not offending you,” the mother defended him, almost in a whisper. “He is not harming you in any way.” The crowds around, including me, watched and said nothing.

The little boy wrested his arm away from her again, “No touching!” he screamed. “Honey,” she replied, very softly yet clear with her words, “I’m doing this to keep you from falling down.” Upon hearing this, the boy immediately allowed his mom to take hold of him again. Then he telescoped his gaze into the comic book once more.

Yet, each time he was distracted from those images in his book, he’d send out another loud protest for all to hear. He even lashed out at his mother once, his little body tensing up from the over-stimulation of the loud train careening along its metal rails. “You may not treat me that way or talk to me that way,” the woman responded. She did so calmly and without judgment, which caused his little body to soften. His eyes pored over the comic characters.

When the subway pulled into Times Square, it was time for me to get off. The doors opened, and like a burst balloon, crowds of people in our car began pouring out, hurrying off to work in all directions. Others filed in, yet the car had certainly thinned out. I was relieved to see that the mother and her small boy had captured two seats for themselves.

She looked depleted to me. I knew that together they had had many days of situations such as these, and I knew that there were more to come. They would happen in that familiar and unremitting stream of menacing uncertainty that demanded every ounce of their combined energy.

I also saw their isolation. How could I not? I am on the autism spectrum, and I have parented an autistic son, who is now 16 years old, through many similar and lonely incidents. “STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS,” the prerecorded voice blared out once more. That’s when I decided not to get off the train.

I wanted to say something to this woman, yet I was terrified of breaking the code of silence in the subway. I managed to position myself to stand just in front of her and her son. Although there was no longer a crush of bodies in the subway car, it was nonetheless crowded. I gathered up my gumption, gripped the overhead railing tightly, and bent down toward the woman to speak.

“You are an extraordinary mother,” I said, “and he is a trooper.”

The woman looked up at me, and for a brief moment, our gazes matched up with one another. Then tears began streaming down her cheeks. She shook her head “no.” “Truly, truly, you are,” I quietly insisted, finding that I myself had begun to cry, too.

What a sight we must have looked: two strangers on a rush hour train, weeping, with scores of people all around us watching.

“NEXT STOP, 34TH STREET, PENN STATION,” the conductor announced through the raspy PA system. The little boy was calmer now, his mom holding him close beside her.

When the subway doors opened, I stepped out. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to them. I knew that had I said anything more, it might have disrupted the boy’s small moment of ease, cycling them both back into the panic he had felt before.

The subway doors closed behind me, and I struggled to find my way through the myriad of scurrying commuters. I walked, as if in a dream, through the filthy subway station, up a narrow, cavernous stairway with mysterious liquids dripping down from the ceiling above, and emerged into the loud and teeming streets of New York City.

I was still crying, thinking of my son, and grateful to have had the chance to say to a mother the words that would have lifted us up when Elijah and I were still very new to our life with autism.

—Valerie Paradiz
Entered 660 days ago


24 Comments

Please note that the comments are posted as is and are not representative of the views of Valerie Paradiz, nor does she bear any responsibility for their content.

Bart, your friend wrote

654 days ago

It made me cry too, Val.

Jo Sue wrote

649 days ago

Wow!! Made me cry!! I have been there with my son and grandson who both have Aspergers. My grandson is 15 now. I have had him since he was 2 years old. People look at you like “Why don’t you discipline your child”!! They make rude comments, etc. It is tough on the family and double tough on the person with Aspergers to live in this cruel world of ours!!! God bless you.

Sandy Perez wrote

649 days ago

I can understand how you felt asI have a son with Autism, I have wondered what his future may hold but to hear from an Adult with autism, it makes me know that my son has a future as well. Thanks for your story.

Cynthia Whitfield wrote

649 days ago

I don’t have autism, but my youngest son is diagnosed with autism and cognitive disability. No one else in my immediate family has autism, although we do have family members who have struggled with depression and borderline OCD.
I have three other children without autism or Asperger’s.

My son with autism is 13, but is very low functioning. He will never be in the kind of work you do, but we hope he will lead a happy and meaningful life nonetheless. We are all working very hard to make this a reality.

In the meantime, we do have a very hard time with people giving us strange looks—they can’t understand why a 13-year-old boy would be acting like a 3-year-old. But the truth is, that’s where he is developmentally. We also feel we are blamed for having “bad genes” that created his problems—made doubly insidious because he is biracial (I am black, and my husband is white). Someone even asked me, “Do you think his problems are because he’s half-black?”

Anat Ofeck wrote

649 days ago

How perfectly you have captured a moment in the life of any parent of a child on the spectrum. Thank you for really understanding and acknowledging. You have put into words what I find impossible to explain at the end of each day.

Judy Barron wrote

649 days ago

I cried too. How aften I have felt the isolating stares of strangers as my 5 yr old son chews on his chew toy verbally stemming. The stares of children are sometimes the hardest. I wish I knew had to just focus on my son and shut out the outside world and the hurt strangers can cause without words.

Amy Hollopeter wrote

649 days ago

This story made me, like many others, cry. My son is almost 5 yrs old and I go back and forth believing that he is high functioning enough to be able to live a fulfilling life and thinking this is never going to end.

latha wrote

649 days ago

yes, it is hard to bear the isolation and the hurting and bruising looks of strangers.
but mothers, why do you not look upon these moments as opportunities to bring about public awareness of what autism is?! why do you not tell people that your child is behaving in such a way becoz he/she is afflicted with a problem called autism that impairs a child’s social and communication abilities during the developmental years? i am sure your short explanation will be received with surprise, understanding and even empathy occasionally. and it may even trigger somebody’s curiosity to know more about this autism and it may even lead them to become a special educator one day. yes, believe me, thats how i became a special educator and now a counsellor who guides parents with developmental disabilities :))
the crowd and their looks always seem very unfriendly and hostile to a mother who has a kid whose problem others have never ever faced. but the awareness can touch a cord somewhere in somebody’s heart that can prod them to alleviate sufferings of so many such people later on in life, like how i am doing today. and the satisfaction that i derive from doing so is nothing short of that eternal bliss :))

Brandi wrote

649 days ago

Iatha, public awareness brought me great peace when I first thought to print up a business card with web addresses on one side to educate and an explination on the other to explain what i felt needed to be justified. Daniel is now 7, 5 1/2 years later he is still non-verbal and low functioning, of course I would still like to enlighten the world around us, however, I am tired. Tired of defending what I spend every moment researching, pondering, reconsidering, fighting for and defending some more; with people who work with or care directly for my child. I am glad that you are spreading your eternal bliss. Perhaps after putting in some overtime for the next five years you will not have grown weary of trying to sovle the mistery, raise other children, stay married, attend IEP meetings and….....Well, keep up the good work counselor:-)

jane wrote

649 days ago

Let me applaud you for having the courage to speak, when many wouldn’t have. Those words will mean so much to that mother, now and a long time from now. I know because someone said them to me once, and to this day I remember the very moment it was said, and the wieght it lifted from my heart. A complete stranger knew I was being the best mom I knew how to be, even If i didn’t know it at the time…I have a quote i found, unfortunately I can’t find who the author is…. “Courage does not always come with a roar. Sometimes its the quiet voice that comes at the end of the day that says “I’ll try again tomorrow”.

Khalilah wrote

649 days ago

How beautiful. My son with autism is 19. We had many a public meltdown when he was younger. His autism changed our entire lives and of course is still impacting us all: myself, my husband and his 21 year old sister and, of course, him. I am not sorry for the growth, introspection and changed worldview having a very different child “forced” upon me. The re-examination of identify, values and priorities serves me to this day. I am sorry for the pain our increasing isolation as a family cost our daughter. She never knew how much I hurt, never saw me cry. It’s only in the last few years I’ve shared this pain with her. I did have a gentleman in the parking lot of a mall share a similar sentiment. I saw him watching us. My son was much older at the time, say 16 or 17. His less than articulate use of language and loud whining was more like a 5 year old. Quite a contrast with me at 5 feet 2 and him at 6. By now I was quite practiced at ignoring other people and focusing on only as much as I needed to safely and efficiently accomplish whatever task was at hand. He invoked God’s Blessings upon my patience and skilll as a mother. I was not offended. I thanked him and somehow it helped me forgive all the other people who stared, or said dumb or rude things. Yes. A little compassion goes a long way.

Paula Hughes wrote

649 days ago

Bravo to you!
It is an amazing moment when someone steps out of the “crowd” to recognize a struggling mother’s efforts.
I also experienced a moment in which my daughter’s pediatrician recognized a job well done. The sad part was that he felt like he had to explain himself first before he complimented me, how sad our world has come to that.
He said to me, “This may sound a bit strange but I have encountered a lot of mothers in my profession and I think that you are the BEST mother I have ever met. What makes you special is that you have never seem to view your daughter’s autism as a disability and that is unique”.
Of course I thanked him, a bit stunned by his words. I think I even hugged him goodbye. This amazing doctor has been in our lives for seven years and I credit him with pushing to have our daughter assessed initially when she began to fall behind in her developmental stages. Our daughter was well into therapy by the time she was thirteen months.

I realize that I still have a long journey ahead with my daughter but I remember those words almost daily. I hope someday to be able to communicate to this doctor just how important his comments were to me. He stepped out of the crowd and recognized this mother’s efforts. I guess healing comes in many forms.
I loved your quote Jane. I have taped it on my refrigerator door, next to our “PECS” board.

Martha-ann wrote

648 days ago

I am a new teacher of exceptional students. Each of my students have different abilities and different needs, and each one has a special place in my heart. For a parent or a child to have to endure critical attitudes is so unfair. I pity those who won’t look beyond circumstances and see the individual. My exceptional students teach me so much and give back more than I will ever be able to give to them. I am amazed at How hard they work, how they fight against staggering odds to acheive, how much they appreciate simply being appreciated. As a teacher and a parent, my heros are these students and their families who make the most of life when so many who literally “have everything” waste it.

Michael Burgman wrote

647 days ago

I can identify with both Val and the mother and child in the story. I have been raising my grandnephew since he was 6 as a single parent and have experienced the looks and stares and much unwanted and unasked for advice and the feelings of isolation often waits around the corner to confront me. On the other hand, on this journey I have learned a lot about myself, and that the key to staying sane is to reach out to others like Val did to this mother and child. Like her I often struggle with whether to say something or not. Recent events in my life have helped me see that all of us need to know that someone is willing to walk with us a ways and bear our burdens with us. I have come to appreciate all parents, not just those of us with autistic children, and often wonder how my parents stayed sane raising eight of us!

Nell Galyean wrote

647 days ago

Thank You! I hope more people become aware of autism and aspergers. As a mother of a 5 year old boy who is autistic I understand.
These children are more brilliant than the rest. They will make us stronger.

Ronni Blumenthal wrote

647 days ago

Many years ago, a parent of a child with Autism showed me a small business card that said something like “My child has Autism” on one side and some quick facts on the back. I believe it came from ASA or some other large group. It really was a wonderful tool for education and a way for parents who are scrutinized by others to respond without having to say a word.
Anyone know where to get these? Are they still around?

Lori Flick wrote

645 days ago

For years I knew something was up with two of my daughters. My almost thriteen year old hasn’t been officially diagnosed with asperger’s but my youngest has. I related so much with the article written. My 13 year old was always described as lazy and a discipline problem by teachers. Which is far from the truth. She has learned to adapt somewhat. But she is not social and she has auditory processing problems. Until this year, it was always, what is wrong with your family. Now it is, wow, my girl is autistic. I know there is hope. She is a brilliant artist, and someone I can always rely on to help me without attitude. My other child with autism also a girl, is only 8. She has much adapting to do. I love her and her sister just the way they are. It is like they are untainted by this world. My second daughter is much more prone to acting out. She can’t deal with change. People give me more stares with her. She interprets her world in movie lines. If she loses something important to her she freaks out on the impact of the knowledge. It is an interesting journey we are on. Not hopeless, just a lost of learning to do. I am glad to find a place where other parents experience something similar.

Christina Chambers wrote

645 days ago

Kudos to that mom, for her passionate, calm defense of her son & his behavior!! God bless you, Valerie! Words like yours have been a “cool cup of water” to me many times when I was struggling with one of my children. I have an 8-y-o boy who is very high functioning, poss AS; a 6-y-o boy w/”mild” ASD, emerging verbal skills; and a NT 3-y-o son. In addition, I’m starting to suspect that I, too, am on the spectrum. Valerie, you are amazing to me, and I bless you for your openness in sharing your strength with people, in your work, in this forum, and “in the trenches” of real life.

Val wrote

642 days ago

Friends! It’s been so wonderful reading your comments to “Kindred Spirits!” Happy Thanksgiving and remember to keep giving to one another! We all need that!

Susan Bernofsky wrote

641 days ago

Val, what a moving story. If only more people were able to be more aware and kind, this woman’s journey would be a little less lonely. I’m so glad you let her know you saw and admired what she was doing, I’m sure the encouragement made a difference to her.

Becky Griggs wrote

641 days ago

Val, Thank you so very much for sharing your experience, and for letting the mother know she was doing the right thing. If only more people understood, and would have the courage to speak up. I am sure your kind words gave the mother that little extra boost she needed to get through the rest of the trip.

Sincerely, Becky
Mother to James 16 yr olds Austim, epliepsy, CP , MR, ADHD, ETH (Explosive teenage hormon….our DX for the teen years)

Dawn Loudenback wrote

640 days ago

I have a 9 year old with High Functioning borderline Aspergers. I am in the middle of Due Process, I live in a very small town and can not find a advocate to help me. The school is now allowing my son to go to school for 2 hours a day. He was being suspended every day for behavior. The behavior is due to their lack of training in Autism and that they do not want to deal with him. He is the first child they have had that is on the Autism Spectrum. Everything I ask for is just pushed to the side. I am learning everything I can through the internet. I am asking anyone that can help with things I could ask for and make the school respond in writing as to why they are not providing things I ask for I would greatly appreciate it. I was wondering how do I ask for more OT time as the last IEP they took away his 15 min a week and he has sensory issues. And how do I ask for Tech Ass. as I believe the constant writing at school is adding to his frustration? Thank you for just listening as it is very lonely with no one that understands in the town I live in. Thank you for noticing you have no idea what you did for the mother.

Karen Gallagher wrote

639 days ago

I have a 5yr old son with autism. While we have our good days and bad days, there is not a day that goes by that he doesn’t make me smile. Our family is lucky to have such a beautiful little boy whose innocence and funny little ways endear him to us. I thank God that he chose to walk across our path as he has invoked a feeling of compassion for others within the rest of my children. We take each day as it comes and do not look upon him as having a disabilty but rather as a child who is different to his peers…this difference is beautiful. Its just a pity that others can’t see it.

Val wrote

638 days ago

Dear Friends,
As I read through your comments on “Kindred Spirits in the Subway,” I want to remind parents of one important thing.
If you feel overwhelmed by the IEP process, and it causes you to want to “give up,” please, don’t give up. Find people and resources in your area and online who can assist you in navigation and strategy. This can be in the form of a lawyer, a local autism or disability organization, or online resources. Sometimes we are so busy, we feel we don’t have time to do the legwork. It IS daunting, but as my friend and fellow Autie Stephen Shore says, no one will approach you or your child with a list of suggested accommodations to choose from. This is a painful truth. Remember: the more you’re able to carve out time for advocacy and connecting with the autism community, even if it’s for ten minutes a day, the more you’re modeling self-advocacy for your child.