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Listening: How Love Grows
By Carol S. Siege, PCC
Founder, Family Pathways Coaching, LLC
On the heels of Valentines Day, I have been thinking about how we show our children love. Listening, I believe is the surest way to create an atmosphere where tenderness, respect and caring can thrive. To that end, I offer four lessons I have learned listening to my wonderful, noisy, neurodiverse sons.
- Autistic kids are not broken!
When one of my sons was about 12, we met with a coordinator for a program for kids on the spectrum. We were chatting so she could determine if he would be a good fit for the group. To my surprise, my son talked about a then-current controversy: whether vaccines caused autism. To my son, the conjecture wasn’t just wrong, it was offensive. It disturbed him for two reasons. First, as a budding scientist, it was clear that any evidence was an example of correlation, not causation. In other words, just because parents found changes to their children’s behavior at about the same age when they received vaccines did not mean the shots caused the differences. Additionally, he felt personally insulted because it seemed to him that parents who denied their children vaccines for fear they would become autistic were saying they would rather have their children contract a disease than develop autism. “I’m not broken,” he said with conviction. Amen to that.
2. If the neurodiverse world is expected to change to be more acceptable to the neurotypical world, shouldn’t it work the other way around too?
Recently another son and I were discussing how we interact with friends. My son is extremely logical, and he does not always take the time for the kind of small talk that can help form relationships. He also does not always readily smile. He is not unhappy, but if he isn’t feeling particularly joyful, he doesn’t naturally smile. We were talking about how smiling is an easy way to help people feel at ease and happy to be around us. He understood my point, and he had another thought as well. If he and others who we now define as “neurodiverse” – that is, people who relate to others, and whose brains process the world, differently -- were expected to act in ways that appease others, shouldn’t it work the other way as well? For example, if he should work hard to smile so others feel comfortable around him, shouldn’t neurotypical people also work hard to accept him, quirks and all?
3. Sometimes kids don’t want to hear our advice.
I am proud to say that my boys talk to me. They share, sometimes they even divulge. These conversations are precious to me, and I consider them a gift. That said, occasionally (or maybe more frequently… oops) I use these conversations as opportunities to offer my advice. Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?
We have perspective, we have experience, maybe we even have answers. Alas, sometimes none of that matters. When he was in high school, one of my sons was struggling with a school situation. I offered to help, but my son’s response was clear: “Fine, just let me talk and don’t say anything.” He didn’t want to hear mywords of wisdom, not at that moment. He wanted to vent and then find a solution himself. That, I soon realized, was a moment of growth, when he learned to resolve problems on his own. Being there to listen silently allowed him to think out loud and expunge the frustration. Maybe his conclusion was right, maybe it was wrong, but he would never learn to face challenges if he didn’t have the chance to try.
4. Maybe we can’t see it, but our kids really are trying.
My sons are hardworking, intelligent boys. They did their homework in school, and they truly enjoy learning. One of my sons, who struggles with dyslexia, had a particularly hard time in a high school class because the teacher relied on rote memory – not a strong suit for dyslexics. Although he understood the concepts the teacher was presenting, he wasn’t able to prepare for exams that depended on memorizing multiple names, dates and places without context. Although I knew my son had studied – I had been there with him – he received a “D” on one test, and I fell into the trap of assuming he hadn’t tried hard enough. I told him he wasn’t allowed to participate in his after-school activities until he was able to improve his grade. What a mistake! What I didn’t know then was that 1) he was trying; 2) he needed to be taught using a narrative, not disconnected facts; and 3) canceling the fun is not the way to motivate a student!
Live and learn. Listen and love.
