All a Matter of Trust

So on Tuesday I went on an adventure. I’m sure, to many of you, a shopping trip would not be classed as an adventure, but this one was, for any number of reasons.

A shopping adventure!

I went with my friend Eleanor (@thesaltedtail) and our mutual friend Sam into Norwich to buy a toy white pony. This was at Sam’s request - something to do with Mr Tumble - so we sallied forth, in a state of unbridled (forgive the pun) excitement.

Our boy!

I have written about Sam before. He was a pupil in my class until I retired, and has since become my friend. He is thirteen, almost fourteen, has severe autism and a host of associated difficulties and it is fair to say that Eleanor and I love him. It is also fair to say that we don’t ‘play safe’ when we take him out - ice skating, ten pin bowling, new places to eat - and he invariably copes with all that we throw at him!

On the bus

It wasn’t until I was looking through the photos that I took yesterday that I thought about how amazing Sam is. From the point of view of ‘autism professional’, we broke all the rules yesterday, and it could, and probably should, have been an unmitigated disaster. We used no visual supports, he had no timetable, we took him into a shopping centre and overloaded all his senses and even decided, at the last minute, to take him on the Park and Ride bus. And yet he coped. 

Phew, not too busy...

He happily rode upstairs on the bus, saying ‘cheese’ for the selfie, and looking at the things we pointed to out of the window. He used an underpass, following our direction, as well as escalators. He navigated crowds of people without invading their personal space or holding onto our arms, and entered the hell that is the Build a Bear Factory far more happily than I did! Fortunately it was quiet and Sam was able to identify the white pony he wanted and take it to be stuffed. 

This is the one!

I have to say at this point that the girl in Build a Bear was brilliant. Not patronising or over-compensating, just matter of factly helping Sam stuff his pony and instructing him on not touching hot things and waiting while she finished stitching. Just as she would anyone else. Perfect. 

Of course his name is Cecil...

Sam duly typed out his pony’s birth certificate (White Pony Cecil) and proudly carried his purchase from the shop.

Lunchtime

Then lunch in the mayhem that is a shopping centre food court. So many choices. So many places to get chips and gravy. And yet Sam happily accepted a jacket potato with cheese and beans, eating it beautifully while White Pony Cecil looked on. Feeling more confident and embracing the ‘what else should we do’ vibe, Eleanor thought it would be nice for Sam to choose a birthday present for his sister. After texting his Mum for ideas, we set off to the toy shop. 

So many things!

More overwhelming lights, small gangways and brightly coloured ‘stuff’ piled high on shelves. Sam was fascinated by everything with a number or alphabet on it, but managed to choose a gift, pay and leave as if he did it every day. We’d promised him a brownie, so we visited Eleanor’s shop so he could choose one. Then, rotters that we are, we told him he could eat it on the bus. And yet he accepted this, even letting us take him into Tiger, just to look at all the cool things. He chose a pull toy for his dog and paid for that too, before catching the bus. It was only on the bus that he got a bit noisy, but I think that was the sugar rush of a brownie!

So proud!

Honestly he was brilliant, and we were both so proud. We’ve already decided we’d like to take him clothes shopping, although he’s rather keener on getting a saddle for White Pony Cecil! 

So why wasn’t it a disaster? How did Sam cope with all of that without a melt down, or at the very least a refusal to wait for his brownie? It is true that we have learned to give Sam lots of time to process verbal instructions and information, and Eleanor had checked that White Pony Cecil was in stock, but what it really boiled down to was trust. For the past five or six years we have worked at building relationships with Sam that are wholly based on trust. He has learned that we mean what we say and will follow through. In the early days this could be challenging, but by persisting and being consistent, Sam has come to trust us. If we say he will get to eat his brownie on the bus, he knows we will let him. If we say he will be fine, he believes us, even when we are pushing his feet into ridiculously rigid ice skating boots! 

Definitely needs a saddle!

I like to think I taught Sam a great deal while he was my pupil, but the ability to trust has perhaps been the greatest gift, and one that will hopefully support him as he gets older and moves towards more independence. Sam has a brilliant family that love him dearly. And he knows this and tests the chinks in their unconditional love armour at every turn. My children were certainly always better behaved when they were with someone else!

So, my message to all the teachers and support workers out there, about to start working with a child with autism in your setting - be consistent, mean what you say and don’t say things you can’t follow through. Use all the tools that research tells you will support their learning and their understanding - it’s these things that help them to feel safe. Develop ways to communicate, and always listen and acknowledge what they are saying- even if they’re telling you they want a balloon in the middle of a maths lesson. You don’t have to give them a balloon, just let them know that you’ve ‘heard’ them. Yes it’s relentless, yes it’s tedious, but the outcomes can be amazing. Every child with autism is different, they all face different obstacles to learning every day and some may continue to express their anxieties through challenging behaviour.  But don’t you think that the very least they deserve is someone in their corner that they can believe - someone they can trust when they say, ‘Come on, just try, you’ll be fine.’ Trust - if only we could bottle it.