Who has the time to read??

I rarely have the time to read anything other than lists, kids’ books, bills, and notes from teachers. Once in a while I will force myself to read a book with the urging of my mother. I am always glad I give into her constant nagging (with love) because I loved reading before I became a mother.

 The book I chose was one I read out of necessity but quickly realized I continued reading out of enjoyment. "Look Me in the Eye", By John Elder Robison is a must read for all ages and backgrounds. It is his memoir of dealing with Asperger's before a time of diagnosis let alone acceptance. It is about his personal struggles and insight into the mind of a brilliant child gifted with Asperger's.

 With the world so diverse and our lives increasingly intertwined it is impossible to not come in contact with a person of special needs. I believe this book will help those on the outside gain understanding into what life is really like for a person that is not deemed "normal" by society's standards. Most people are afraid of what they do not have knowledge of, reading this book will offer that knowledge to those that seek it. I wanted to share a passage from the book that I think clearly defines the mind of a child with Asperger’s.

At first, I was excited. As soon as I saw the other kids, I wanted to meet them. I wanted them to like me. But they didn't. I could not figure out why. What was wrong with me? I particularly wanted to make friends with a little girl named Chuckie. She seemed to like trucks and trains, just like me. I knew we must have a lot in common.

At recess, I walked over to Chuckie and patted her on the head. My mother had shown me how to pet my poodle on the head to make friends with him. And my mother petted me sometimes, too, especially when I couldn't sleep. So as far as I could tell, petting worked. All the dogs my mother told me to pet had wagged their tails. They liked it. I figured Chuckie would like it, too.

Smack! She hit me!

Startled, I ran away. That didn't work, I said to myself. Maybe I have to pet her a little longer to make friends. I can pet her with a stick so she can't smack me. But the teacher intervened. 

"John, leave Chuckie alone. We don't hit people with sticks."

 "I wasn't hitting her. I was trying to pet her." 

"People aren't dogs. You don't pet them. And you don't use sticks." 

Chuckie eyed me warily. She stayed away for the rest of the day. But I didn't give up. Maybe she likes me and doesn't know it, I thought. My mother often told me I would like things I thought I wouldn't, and sometimes she was right. 

The next day, I saw Chuckie playing in the big sandbox with a wooden truck. I knew a lot about trucks. And I knew she wasn't playing with her truck correctly. I would show her the right way. She will admire me and we will be friends, I thought. I walked over to her and took the truck away and sat down.

 "Miss Laird! John took my truck!" 

That was fast! 

"I did not! I was showing her how to play with it! She was doing it wrong!" But Miss Laird believed Chuckie, not me. She led me away and gave me a truck of my own. Chuckie didn't follow. But tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow, I would succeed in making friends.

 Word Count: 614