Scenario
A:
It’s Monday morning. You wake up, shower, get dressed, and eat
breakfast. Equipped to face the day and
a new week, you hop into your car, snag a cup of coffee in the nearby drive
through, and embark on the commute to work. This is the same adequate and reliable routine
you have been practicing for years. Upon arrival to the office, you settle in and commence
working on a project you left unfinished on Friday. Your boss interrupts your current activity
and assigns you a new project. You
casually comply, temporarily putting your current project on hold while you contend
with the newer and more urgent task. It’s
not a big deal. You have no problem transitioning from one
task to another one. You are
Neurotypical.
Scenario
B:
It’s Monday morning. You wake up, shower, get dressed, and eat
breakfast. Equipped to face the day and
a new week, you hop into your car, snag a cup of coffee in the nearby drive
through, and embark on the commute to work. This is the same adequate and reliable routine
you have been practicing for years. Upon arrival to the office, you settle in and commence
working on a project you left unfinished on Friday. Your boss interrupts your current activity
and assigns you a new project….you flip out.
A thousand things are going
through your head right now. You were
knee-deep in another project. You are
unsure how to complete the newer project.
Don’t they know you were already busy and you already have a million
things to do?! How can they expect me to just change projects
like that?! Unbelievable! You snap at
your boss, who now asks to see you in his office. Embarrassed and disoriented, you reluctantly
comply. What just happened? That
one slight speed bump in your daily routine, that one little detour, that one
tiny request to shift your attention from your current project to a new one,
created a disastrous response within you.
You are Autistic.
You see, folks on the Spectrum have
a difficult time transitioning between tasks, circumstances, and events. This hardship spans across a variety of
environments and situations. We
Autistics crave sameness and routine. We
actively pursue consistency and order.
And when our patterns of thoughts and behaviors are interrupted, we recoil
from it. A deviation from our routine
can be a catalyst for undesirable behaviors, anywhere from negative thoughts
and feelings, crying, and withdrawal, to verbal altercations and physical responses.
Transition happens throughout our
daily lives. At school, students change
assignments and subjects several times within a given class period. Students morph from the classroom to the
cafeteria to the playground to the gym and back to the classroom. Frequently, teachers and school staff are
able to set up daily routines and rituals that our Autistic students can fall
into, some with guidance and others on their own. However, transitioning from one task to
another does not always go so effortlessly.
For instance, a student who is using a computer to complete a math
assignment online may struggle to remove their attention from the current activity
and lead into the next. High school becomes tough, as there are few natural
routines and even fewer teacher-made routines, resulting in chaos in the mind
of the Autistic individual. And substitute teachers… nightmarish for many
on the Spectrum at any grade level!
At home, we transition from sleep to
wake, home to school, school to home, TV to dinner, dinner to bath time, story
time to bed, and back to sleep to wake.
Within each activity there are smaller routines and transitions that
transpire, such as a routine for brushing teeth during a routine for preparing
for bedtime. A child might visit the
home of a friend or relative over night, and upon return have to readjust to
make things steady once again. We transition
to and from the car, to and from the grocery store, to and from the park and restaurants
and gyms and practices.
And then there are the major
transitions, moving from house to house, city to city, graduating from one
school to another, and going from job to job.
These transitions occur over time, and so do the effects of the instabilities
of them.
Some of the behaviors that might be
evident when a person is struggling with a transition are similar to (or might
even include) those of a meltdown. An
Autistic individual may withdraw from others, seek sensory input, or seek a
comforting person or item to help balance their wavering world. They may show irritability, anxiety, or anger
upon forced shift in attention or unexpected change.
What can be done to help our
Autistic peers in times of transition?
There are a variety of strategies, and the ones you choose to select
will depend on the individual and their response to the tactic. One straightforward rule of thumb is this:
the more advance notice of change given, the better. Much of our anxiety and inability to shift
attention comes from the new, the unexpected, and the unfamiliar. The more notice and clarification provided,
the more manageable and uncomplicated the transition will be. Some tools that can help include visual
timers and visual schedules. Being aware
how much time we have to complete the present activity, and knowing what
activity will follow the present one, can help ease some of the apprehension
and dread. Using countdowns can help,
as well as task completion lists. Using
the strategy of “first/then”, in which a person is told what they will do now
and what will follow, can be powerful.
Having a dependable, steady routine in place and following it closely,
with planned time for transitions, can help, too. However, it is important that Autistics be
given the opportunity to practice unexpected transitions in a controlled and
safe manner. Plan for “pop transitions”,
and demonstrate to the person that the change in routine is safe, as well as
teach strategies for regaining personal control.
Growing up on the Spectrum, I really
grappled with transitions. One distinct
transition I recall is a time when my family was on vacation, visiting some
relatives who lived about a six hour drive away. I was relishing in spending time with a
cousin whom I was (and am) extremely close to.
He was like another brother to me, and we didn’t get to see one another
nearly as often as we would have liked. We played video games, talked and laughed, and
teased our younger siblings. Hoping to delay the inevitability of my
leaving and returning home, my cousin and I concocted a shenanigan of a plan in
which he could return home with us and stay over spring break. It was a sure fire proposal. Or so
we thought. We were denied our request
and I was forced to leave without him.
The six hour journey home in the car was engulfed with my sobs, screams,
wails, cursing, head-banging, thumb-biting, and withdrawal. There
was nothing that could satisfy me. My
meltdown wasn’t due to the fact that he couldn’t come home with us, nor was it
caused by the idea that I was told “no”.
Rather, it was the feeling that my world was out of control. First of all, my plan made absolute and
undeniable logical sense TO ME. I was
blind to the points of view of the adults in charge. In addition, I didn’t KNOW when I could see
him again. I didn’t KNOW how much time
we would have next time. It was all of
this unknown that fueled my enduring, six hour Chernobyl moment. I don’t know what age you might have pictured
me to be when reading this personal account.
Maybe 8 ? 10? 12?
No. I was sixteen years old. Sixteen and unable to handle transitioning
from one moment to the next. Sixteen and
Autistic.
If you are a parent or teacher
reading this, be mindful that those on the Spectrum struggle with transitional
moments daily. Implement routines that
are safe and work well for all. Have us be part of the creative process when
designing routines. What you think may
work well may make no logical sense to us.
Strive to find out WHY we like to do things a certain way or in a
certain order. Give us as much
forewarning as possible when there is a transition approaching. Be patient.
If you are on the Spectrum, create routines for yourself. Share those routines with the ones who care
about you and work with you, so that they can do their best to help you. Know
that transitions are inevitable. Seek healthy
and attainable ways to keep your world in balance. Just
hold on tightly, be patient, and ride it out.