We Need Change.

In the second class I help with, they added a new child to my group. From what I was told, he’s one of the kids they’ve had “issues” with. And sure enough, on my first day with him, I saw him flip desks in frustration, his emotions boiling over in a way he couldn’t control.

But I didn’t see a “troublemaker.” I didn’t see a kid who wanted to disrupt or cause chaos. What I saw was a child overwhelmed—overstimulated by an environment that doesn’t quite fit him. He’s learning English after being a Spanish speaker only, placed in a setting where the expectations are already too high and the patience too thin.

Later, I was told he had autism. In that moment, something clicked. I felt a sense of comradery, because I have Asperger’s myself. I know the feeling of being misunderstood, of being seen as difficult when in reality your brain is just wired differently. I know how it feels to be capable of so much, yet constantly measured by the wrong yardstick.

So I simply treat him with respect. When I need his attention, I say his name, tell him what I need, and finish with “please.” That’s it. No yelling. No shaming. No stripping him of his dignity. And when I do, he follows along. Not because I’ve forced him into submission, but because I’ve invited him into cooperation.

I don’t see him as incapable. I see him as extremely intelligent—someone who just learns differently, someone who gets distracted in environments that expect every child to sit in a line and absorb the same lesson at the same pace. What he needs isn’t discipline for failing to fit in. What he needs is an environment that recognizes his potential and allows him to thrive, instead of treating him like one of twenty kids to be kept “in line.”

Working with him reminds me that education too often focuses on control rather than connection. That’s a failure, not of the child, but of the system. And maybe, just maybe, the least we can do—the very least—is to start with respect.