Our son, who has autism spectrum disorder (ASD), was often an inadvertent contributor to his problems by his lack of social savvy—but not always. Bullies can rise up anywhere and everywhere. And at any age. (Apparently, bullies never grow up.) They may even take the more insidious and impersonal form of institutional and systemic bias.
Children with physical, developmental, intellectual, emotional, and sensory disabilities often seem to have a prominent “Kick Me” sign on their backs, a seemingly irresistible target for the bullying mindset. Try as our son might to blend in or stay unnoticed, his “marching to a different drummer” routine attracted attention—especially from those kids who judged him ripe for their mocking, harassing, teasing, taunting, badgering, and bullying.
Often, bullies’ exploitive route is through their victims’ lack of peer support. Having friends can prevent and protect against bullying. But children with special needs often fail to make friends, and may have difficulty getting around, trouble communicating and navigating social interactions, or display signs of vulnerability and emotional distress. All of these challenges mark them as “different,” and increase their risk of aggression from bullies.
Stepping Stones: our pathfinding adventure with Asperger’s introduces the concepts required to continue organizational change. And to all parents and caregivers of children with ASD, this true tale offers pragmatic guidance, self-help encouragement, and real reason for hope. tinyurl.com/4c6bxw4s
“One of the exceptional gifts of Asperger’s Syndrome is the ability to perceive an issue from a unique perspective, which can lead to fresh or surprising solutions.” – from Stepping Stones: our pathfinding adventure with Asperger’s.
Despite some very rough times growing up, when our son’s autism spectrum disorder (ASD) hindered his social development, that same gift later enabled his success as a research engineer with a Master’s in physics.
Stepping Stones is the story of the paths we carved while raising a child on the high functioning sliver of the autism spectrum. We offer it as a trail guide of hope for all parents and caregivers of children with ASD.
We are offering a free ebook copy (pdf or epub) to all who leave a message of “book” with an email address. (See contact page.) All we ask is that you provide an honest review on Amazon when finished reading it. We wish all the best in their daily challenges!
The image shown comes from the book’s back cover. It was created by our son by plotting the solutions of millions of polynomial equations on the complex plane, and stacking and colorizing the result.
Supportive relationships bring vitality to reality. We are very grateful to our friends and family who have stood by us during some of our most challenging times. This year, we were able to publish our story of raising our youngest son on a high functioning sliver of the autism spectrum. As the first student in the school district diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, he became the blunt instrument of change it required but didn’t know it needed.
Each phase of life can be a stepping stone to progress. From the distinct advantage of countless wayfinding steps more than 20 years in the making, we’re now able to tell the tale of our passage. But at the time, we hadn’t a clue to the route, or the fuss we would create.
Words of faith determine the journey’s end before I arrive. In October this year, we celebrated our 45th anniversary. We couldn’t have imagined most of what our lives have become, but we know Who holds our future, and that faith has both carried us through and worked out all things for our good.
Intentional steps bring opportunities that alter destinies. In February, Philip obtained a position as a Research Engineer, after the persevering quest of 7 years and 840 job applications. We helped move him to Webster, NY and unload the truck during a winter squall off Lake Ontario with -10° windchill and near-whiteout conditions!
A strong sense of purpose overrides the pain of fulfilling it. The bold statements in this post come from several of the chapter openings in Stepping Stones: our pathfinding adventure with Asperger’s. In it, we share how we hadn’t planned to be pioneers in an arduous journey—but that’s where we have found love, courage, hope, faith, learning, humor, growth, failure, trial, and triumph—everything that rounds out a life well-lived.
Only by overcoming challenges to my progress do I advance toward it. Stepping Stones is a trail guide of hope for all the parents and caregivers of children who: appear to have advantages, but somehow do not; want to be happy and fit in, but largely cannot; yearn to be treated respectfully, but usually are not.
I affirm the worth of my potential and progress toward a favorable future. Despite advances in diagnoses, therapies and other accommodations, many systemic inequities against the neurodivergent remain to be dismantled. This book introduces the concepts required to continue organizational change. And to all parents and caregivers of children with Autism Spectrum Disorder, this true tale offers pragmatic guidance, self-help encouragement, and real reason for hope.
Ignorance imprisons the mind, but learning liberates the spirit. Philip wrote the last chapter of the book, recounting the life lessons he learned in grad school and in securing a full-time job. He also created the back cover artwork and others in the book. Produced by solving and plotting the results of hundreds of millions of polynomial equations, and then stacked and colorized, he’s named this type of mathematical art “polyplots.”
Sit in peace. Stand on principle. Soar with purpose. Stepping Stones is available in print or ebook through our website timandcarolherd.com, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and other booksellers.
We believe in the message our little memoir contains, and we’re trying to reach as many people as possible. We are available for speaking to groups and for book signings. If you are an active Amazon customer, you can post a review, regardless of where you have purchased the book.
We offer this story of our experience to the great range of parents, caregivers, therapists, and support networks—as well as those who are on the autism spectrum themselves—as our like-missioned, kindred spirits. And we thank you for your support.
another heartwarming episode of “Life as I Remember it Ought to Have Been”
Today is another day of cancelled school while the populace waits for its hopeful interrupting snowfall. In anticipation, the streets have already been sprayed with snow-melting solution, the public works guys are counting overtime hours, and it’s a great excuse for a surprise holiday.
Remote workers: you got nothing.
But back in MY day, an accumulating snow, much less a forecast of it, was no reason for changing the day’s plans.
(Disclaimer: my bachelor’s degree is in forecast meteorology; and this is no bash against my brother and sister prognosticators!)
But as I was saying, back in MY day, things were different.
I have a vivid memory from a particular wintry day back in the early 60s, when Good Ol’ Bus 4 ambled up our unnamed road to our farm in rural Moore Township, Pennsylvania. Cold. Windy. Snow covering the yard, feeding troughs, fields, road and everything. Me, bundled in my red coat with the hood up and tied tight round my face with a threaded shoestring, wearing tall, black rubber boots, each with a half-dozen railroad-track latches, and clutching my metal Donald Duck lunchbox with matching thermos inside, I stood dutifully next to our mailbox held aloft by a red, white and blue painted plank figure of Uncle Sam.
The bus arrived just as expected, I giant-stepped into the maw of the yellow beast, and it trundled its load of captive minors toward another day’s sentence in jail (which today might be called “The Learning Facility.”)
But in just another two hundred feet or so, the bus lodged itself in a blustering snowdrift that had dammed the roadway between our barns. “Schlegel,” the bus driver, gave it the old college try to plow his way through, but today the game appeared to be already decided with the low score of Stubborn Snowdrift: 1, Good Ol’ Bus 4: 0.
I quickly and opportunistically offered to hop off and go back to the house and tell my parents. But Schlegel wouldn’t have it. With an order to his charges to “Stay on the bus!” he abandoned us to trudge back to the house. Inside, my parents allowed him to use the party-line telephone to call the school (what were they thinking!?) and let them know we were stuck in the snowbank between a pair of barns isolated in the backcountry wintry wastes.
Eventually, Schlegel returned and resumed his seat at the front of the bus, and closed the bifold door. And there we all sat in the damp cold on the hard bench seats. And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And then, in the distance, appeared an growing yellow smudge amid the swirling snow: Rescue!
Another bus crawled toward us from the other side of the world, turned itself around, backed up to “Our Drift,” and invitingly opened its door to the frigid wilderness.
With Schlegel stomping a path through the monstrous frozen whitecap, each of us snow-hopped across to Mean Ol’ Bus 6, retook our seats, and resumed the long, cold trek to No Excuses Consolidated Elementary School.
I couldn’t possibly tell you what I learned that day in class, but the memory of that singular adventure is a permanent fixture of what happened back in MY day!
Note: I sure wish that my dad had hustled outside with his Argus and taken a Kodachrome of that stuck school bus, but he stayed inside while all us kiddos built character. Instead, I offer these photos from another winter’s day when the Township’s bulldozer eventually got us plowed out—after we had run out of food, and my dad had skied into town to fetch some groceries.
Carol and I were very fortunate to meet Temple Grandin last week when she spoke at the National Recreation and Park Association’s Conference in Phoenix.
Dr. Grandin is a gifted animal scientist who has designed one-third of all the livestock-handling facilities in the United States. In 2010, Time Magazine named her one of the 100 most influential people.
She is also autistic and a strong advocate for those who think differently from most of the rest of the world. We have learned from her since our son was first diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome as he entered junior high school.
Temple spoke of her personal experiences navigating life experiences, and about the strength that diversity of perspectives and abilities brings to park planning—as well as all of life.
Her collaboration with the playground design firm Play & Park Structures is one of the first to address the needs of neurodivergent individuals and those with different minds who have different play needs and styles.
America’s first fully mobile environmental education facility
On this date 35 years ago I founded The Roving Nature Center, America’s first fully mobile environmental education facility. It conducted environmental education programs at all kinds of indoor and outdoor sites from Boston to Erie to Virginia Beach. It won national recognition in the Take Pride in America Awards program for its “commitment and exceptional contribution to the stewardship of America’s natural and cultural resources.” It provided jobs to nearly 400 people and sustained my family for 18 years before I sold the company in 2005. I remain very grateful to for the unique opportunities and blessings it provided me.
Carol and I ate at a Cracker Barrel restaurant tonight, where it’s like dining in a museum—or a barn—what with all the old stuff hung on the walls.
We were greatly entertained by a nearby family with two young boys. The older one, at about 5, reminded us of our oldest son at that age: endlessly curious, amiable, energetic, chatty, and just ready for anything—to the ultimate exhaustion of the loving mommy!
The young boy pointed to a portrait on the wall above our heads of a woman in the 19th Century:
Who is that? His mom was quick with a reply:
That’s the one who cooks and bakes all the food we’re eating.
What’s her name?
Mrs. Cracker Barrel.
I was wondering where the name came from.
We get it. Our Andrew once had so many questions about a box of Keebler cookies and where it came from that Carol finally answered: “It fell out of the sky!”
Months later, as we drove past the Keebler plant on Route 22 in the Lehigh Valley, that absorbent kid, who couldn’t yet read, pointed to the green and red logo on the side of the building and exclaimed “Fell outta the sky!”
While the drama was undeniably amusing at the time, it’s a great example of one of the mistakes we made—and the lessons we learned—in nurturing our son’s personal development as he grew up.
A little boy sitting on a big rock pouting.
“I’m just going to go across the road and… DIE!”
So declared my then eight-year-old son, who has Asperger’s Syndrome.
What caused him such overwhelming agony that he felt he simply could not go on?
I moved a forsythia bush in the yard from there to over there.
And while the drama was undeniably amusing at the time (and required pains to hide it), it’s a great example of one of the mistakes I made—and the lessons I learned—in nurturing my son’s personal development as he grew up.
As mainstream recreational programming widens to welcome more children with special needs, and the real opportunities to raise these children’s future prospects grow, I humbly offer some of the simple strategies my wife and I learned in raising our young son, which may help in providing a more nurturing aspect to your programming.
1 Practice coping mechanisms. Aspergers kids often suffer from sensory overload, detecting every sight and motion, every sound and smell, every texture and sensation. Our son was unable to tune out the background clamor most people don’t even notice. Because it’s not possible to control all surroundings, we introduced and practiced coping mechanisms that helped him manage the overload. Things like deflecting anger with humor, providing a safe place of retreat (very important!), and teaching him how to read facial expressions helped him cope when tensions ran high.
2 Pick Your battles. Because he needed social interaction, but would never choose it on his own, we limited the battles on that front to just two that did him a world of good: Boy Scouts with its outdoor adventures; and marching band with its required precision that appealed to his mathematical mind. Knowing what’s really important, rather than what’s merely a preference, helped us focus our care where he needed it most, and avoid needless confrontations and frustrations.
3 Provide stability. Aspergers kids love their ruts. That’s where they’re comfortably ensconced. They’re happy there, with no need to ever change. Routines are important. Rules are important. So as much as possible, we provided stability at home with our routines and consistency in enforcing rules.
This youngest child of four shared household chores with his siblings. Saturday was yardwork, Sunday was church. Every evening at 5:30 the whole family sat down together for supper. And after we were done eating, we lingered together to share in a variety of subjects—from listening to a piece of music to discussing current events to admiring artwork, or something from science, history or literature. One springtime we read the entire book of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer aloud in small segments after supper. Provide stability.
4 Prepare for changes. You thought you hated change? Try being an Asperger’s kid with absolutely zero tolerance! Here was my mistake in moving the bush: I never warned him. While he was at school one day, I decided on the spur of the moment to transplant the shrub. It was already a done deal when he got home. NNNOOOO!! He simply could not cope with its suddenness. His life was over. The only thing he could do was to go across the road and die!
We learned to prepare our son for changes that will come. One year, we had a great three-week vacation at the end of the summer. When we arrived home, we realized, “oh, yeah, school starts next week.” What! A! Disaster! From that episode we learned to prepare him for transitions. “Son, school starts in 4 weeks, 3 weeks, 2 weeks, next Tuesday…” “You’re going to have to start wearing pants again soon instead of shorts, because the days are getting colder and you’ll freeze your buns off!” Prepare for change.
5 Persevere in unconditional love. No matter the depth of his meltdowns or how he acted out, our love and acceptance as a vital part of our family was never questioned. We approached it from this truth: “Son, you have an amazing gift in being able to view the world from a unique perspective—and you will find purpose in it. Hang in there. We love you intensely!” Persevere!
So for those who have or are working with young children on the autism spectrum, I offer this encouragement and hope: My son —the physicist with a Master’s degree in nuclear physics!—is now working two research jobs with Penn State. Hang in there! It’s hard to predict the ultimate destination of these kinds of adventures. But you have both the opportunity and the ability to make a difference in these children’s lives and their futures. My absolute best to you!
