The open sores on Conner Ridges’ hands have disappeared since he began attending Boulton Elementary in Bountiful, Utah, in November.
Instead of biting himself, he has learned to chew something less personal, such as a plastic toy or a phone cord.
Were he a different boy, brown-eyed Conner with his sweet, mischievous smile would be in fifth grade. But as an autistic child, he is in a special classroom where his success is measured by the healing scars on his hands.
These days he is less aggressive, less likely to melt down in class. His teacher believes more words may eventually emerge from the nearly silent boy.
Assuming he never receives a high school diploma, Conner, 10, has the right to stay in public schools until he turns 22. In the next dozen years, he will need one-on-one help from teachers with a world of patience.
But he is not unusual. Many autistic kids are not as severely disabled as Conner, but he is among thousands of autistic children whose ranks in Utah schools are growing.
Since 2000, the number of autistic children ages 3 to 21 in Utah public schools has jumped from 642 to more than 2,200 – a nearly 250 percent increase. New research released Thursday said one in 133 Utah children have a form of autism – the third-highest rate among 14 U.S.
sites that gathered data.
Researchers chiefly attribute the higher numbers in Utah and across the nation to a broader definition of autism spectrum disorders and better recognition of affected children.
Schools are addressing the growth by working with parents, teachers and other professionals to help them understand autism. They can be a savior for parents, providing routine and specialists who expand vocabulary and teach agitated children to find some degree of peace.
Families, however, say autism can be misunderstood, sometimes resulting in teachers disciplining children for behavior they cannot control. Specialists don’t work with children as much as some families would like and “regular” teachers don’t always have adequate training, parents say. Families move from districts or schools searching for the right fit.
“Parents are scared because they see their child retreating into a world they don’t understand,” said Utah autism specialist Jocelyn Taylor.
Terrified for the future, parents want the best for their children, and school is where they hope to find the answers.
It’s said that if you’ve seen one autistic child, you’ve only seen one. A student may be silent or may be inclined to lecture. He may be withdrawn, or interested in friends but clueless about how to make one. Someone else’s facial expressions and body language may be meaningless. Certain sounds and textures – such as children’s voices or a shirt tag – can be agonizing.
For many of these children, it will be the school’s job to teach them how to live. Academics will remain important – particularly for the verbal, intelligent students – but speech pathologists, occupational therapists, psychologists and others often work with autistic students on the basics.
Depending on the child, the school’s responsibility can be huge.
Specialists may teach children how to start a conversation, make eye contact and listen to others. They can learn, through stories, not to scream and flap their hands in response to difficult situations.
Occupational therapists help students calm down through “deep pressure,” placing a weighted vest or blanket on them.
It could even fall to teachers to figure out why a student refuses to cross the threshold into school that day. Yet another autistic child in regular classes may need nothing more than help on his social skills.
For some parents, schools’ efforts are simply not enough. What exists now is like giving a kid with cancer “significantly diluted chemotherapy,” said Diana King, who spent $300,000 over six years on her autistic child, primarily on one-on-one treatment.
When the boy was about a year old, he stopped responding to his name and looking at his family. She was devastated.
The family gave up on public school after the parents realized it would not provide the level of help the family could purchase.
Now the fifth-grader attends Salt Lake Arts Academy, a charter school, and is a top student. Looking back, the mother believes the state should have paid for the services the family sought out themselves.
“In other states, there is funding for kids with autism to get help they need,” King said. “That is the biggest travesty of our state.” But King’s story is far different than the one told by Emilie Tanner, who praises public schools as the main reason her son has made impressive strides in the past three years. He is now in a special-education kindergarten class in the Jordan School District and has improved more quickly than she ever imagined. Despite being told her child would probably never speak, he initiates play and can ask for what he wants.
Parents often agree the best situation for their child involves some exposure to “regular” students who may help them learn social skills.
Even the Carmen B. Pingree School for Children with Autism, a private K-6 school in Salt Lake City, works to expose students to nonautistic children through an integration program. About 170 students are on the waiting list for Pingree’s preschool for students with autism, which is paid for by the state. Tuition for the K-6 option is $25,500 this school year, but scholarships are available.
When Conner’s mom first learned her son had autism, she remembers opening a book that compared autism to diamonds. Both last forever.
That was about seven years ago. The family can’t go on vacations together anymore because Conner doesn’t sleep if he is not in his own bed. Their big trip is to Wal-Mart on Sunday mornings when it’s quiet and empty and Conner won’t be upset by the chaos and noise.
Sometimes he’ll be silent for days. Sometimes he’ll scream for an entire weekend. The 10-year-old can be a tornado, Lisa Ridges, his mom, said, describing his skill at getting into the pantry and opening child-proofed doors. Conner, who hates U-turns and inexplicably said the words “space shuttle” for about six months, rules their world.
But she feels they were meant to have the boy. Whether it’s because of a new combination of medications or purely his school, Conner, a diamond, has transformed.
“Our whole life is so much better because he’s happier,” Russ Ridges, Conner’s father, said.
(The Salt Lake Tribune is a member of the ap News Service.)
