Manners matter with autism

When Kennedy, Alex and Bella first started down the road of all the applied behavioral analysis therapy for autism, one of the first things they tried to teach were greetings. One thing struck me, though. The only words Kennedy spoke at the time were “please” and “thank you.” But no one seemed to think it was vital to keep it in their “manding” vocabulary. The dictionary, bless Mr. Webster, says that manners are “the prevailing customs, social conduct, and norms of a specific society.” Their social awkwardness is hard enough already – using manners gives them a way to initiate conversation or get something they need.

And I’ve noticed a lot of kids, not just the autistic ones, have an appalling lack of manners. Not to go overboard, but manners should be one of the FIRST things we work on with our autistic kids. Why? Because it gives them a social contract they can act out with other people without really having to try and read body language or social cues. Always say “please” when asking for something, and “thank you” afterwards. Easy to remember – and use within context. That’s what we did. People always seem surprised that our kids have good manners (when they remember them!!), and I totally don’t get it. Structure is the one thing they do get and are able to apply. Don’t get me wrong, they don’t deviate a whole lot from the template. If Kennedy introduces herself to someone and says, “Nice to meet you,” she expects an appropriate response completing the social contract – “I’m so-and-so, nice to meet you, too.” And shake hands. If they just stare back, she will repeat the process until the kid figures it out. Or they can be mean, and I have to explain to her that not all kids are nice. You’d be surprised how many adults aren’t, either. But I was also pleasantly surprised how many people respond to her and draw into conversation, telling this kid their life story.

Autism is a gift that erases color, creed, religion, gender, orientation, disability.

Kennedy addresses movie stars and the janitor with the same high regard. I love that. We were at California Adventure (next to Disneyland) and Kennedy approached this little boy in a wheelchair. Brian (not his real name) had pretty severe cerebral palsy. All three of my kids talked to him, asking him if he liked Disneyland and what his favorite ride and character was, etc. Random questions kids ask. His mother started to cry and I freaked. I thought one of the kids said something mean or inappropriate. No. She was crying because they were the first kids to really talk to him, or even look at him. That was the first time Andy and I felt their autism was a gift.