By Kenneth L. Hardin

I’m blessed to have a happy, healthy and energetic five-year-old grandson. He’s full of energy and doesn’t seem to have an off switch. He enjoys everything about the outdoors and doesn’t mind playing in the sweltering hot temperatures. He loves playing in the array of trees in our backyard, often jumping up and grabbing a handful of leaves to pull a branch down to his level. There’s an ornamental tree in the front yard with branches just thick enough to allow him to climb halfway up and perch. He’s got a basketball goal in the garage but enjoys kicking the ball more than shooting it. Strewn throughout the inside of the house is his own dinosaur kingdom. He has every large and small classification of beast and can name them all correctly. He often takes the toy Tyrannosaurus and wraps his jaws around my fingers pretending he’s bitten Pop-Pop. He’s very protective of his kingdom and will politely take any out of your hand if you  pick one up. On the large flat screen looking down over his kingdom on the den floor either the Disney movie “Ice Age” is playing on repeat or a cartoon simulation of two massive dinosaurs engaged in battle. Did I mention my grandson has a mild form of autism as well?

I purposely didn’t because his Level I diagnosis has no negative bearing on his intelligence, wonder, happiness, capabilities or his future. He has a strong family support system that doesn’t treat him as if he has any form of a communication developmental disability. It’s noticeable in his difficulty understanding social cues, and how he speaks in broken sentences, which limits his ability to engage in back-and-forth conversation, but still allows him to follow commands and directions perfectly. He doesn’t like a break in daily patterns or routines. Loud noises and sensory overload can lead to a crisis. Although we struggled early on from a lack of understanding and going through a few organizations that promised assistance but didn’t deliver, we’re finally at a point where we’ve found an excellent school, Compleat Kidz on W. Innes St. They’ve done a remarkable job with his speech development, behavior and motor skills. Other integral people and businesses have shown him immense love, patience and understanding like the Above the Collar Barbershop. There are some we’ve encountered who I’ve been less than happy with as they didn’t seem to have an ounce of awareness, empathy or concern. Admittedly, I do worry about him as he gets older and moves more into his independence in the world. Until then, his support system will ensure he’s ready to accept all challenges. Regardless, I’ll be his most fierce advocate and protector and I won’t be nice or cordial to anyone who doesn’t show him a basic level of compassion and consideration.

I was a bit more restrained last Sunday afternoon as his dad took him to an athletic shoe store in the Wallace Commons business plaza on Klumac Road. He called 15 minutes later to say they were unable to accomplish it and left the store because my grandson went into crisis and had a meltdown. To the casual observer, this may have looked like a temper tantrum. I made that mistake early on in his diagnosis. Instead of implementing calming techniques, I tried to instill disciplinary language which made the crisis more intense. I’ve since learned how to get him to a calmer, more equal state without resorting to showing irritation and frustration at the behavior.

I told my son to wait in the parking lot as I made the 10-mile trek to meet them so that we could pick up the new sneakers. When I arrived, he was out of the store, much calmer and back to his normal state. I brought our dog with me as that always seems to immediately calm him down. I calmly explained to him why he needed new shoes and told him we were going to go back inside. As I held his hand, and started towards the door, I could feel his little hand tightening up around mine. I could hear sounds of whimpering and tears started forming in his eyes. When I went inside with him, I could tell why it sent him into crisis. It was darker than most stores and they had loud, hard-beating background music playing. I approached the cashier and asked her if she remembered him and explained why he may have had the crisis. In all her seeming 18-year-old nonchalant innocence and look of unconcern, she simply stared at me and shook her head.

During the entire encounter, as his emotions started to increase and he repetitively said he wanted to leave, she stood back away from him as if he was radioactive. She never tried to engage, talk, soothe him or offer any words of comfort. Even when she brought the two pairs of shoes out for him to try on, she handed them to me, took a few steps back and just stood there silent. I asked her a couple of times if she could see where his toe was and she acted hesitant and afraid. When we got to the register to pay, I gave my grandson two $50 bills and instructed him to hand them to her and say thank you. She again never engaged with him. Slightly irritated, I asked her if she had ever dealt with an autistic child and she responded, “Back in school I used to see them sitting in a classroom.”

After that interaction, I thought to myself, my grandson is not the one with the developmental and behavioral problems. He’ll be fine in the world. Its people like the cashier who need more help than him.

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists.