About year ago, an awesome group of fathers of children with autism allowed me to interview them – six African-American, college educated men, who were married to the mothers of their children with autism, and very well networked. Their careers were diverse and included: pharmaceutical sales manager, educational software salesman, business manager, banking executive, graphic artist, and information technology professional.
They answered questions about the ways they learned about fatherhood, their own fathering experiences, and how being African-American influenced their experiences as fathers. They openly shared how, at times, they believed their race influenced the quality of the services offered to them and their children with autism by doctors, schools, and other providers. One father said he made a conscious decision to not assume the posture that could be interpreted as the “Angry Black Man”, but rather one that might be considered less intimidating or confrontational. This posture he called the “Help Me Understand Man”. The "Help Me Understand Man" asks more questions, makes fewer assumptions in times of conflict or misunderstanding, and is potentially perceived less threatening to his child’s teachers and service providers. I could learn a thing or two from the ‘Help Me Understand Man’… In the last 4 weeks, I've had experiences with my son’s teachers in which I've assumed both postures. The circumstances have sadly reminded me – again – that race still matters. It matters for me, AND it matters for my son. I would argue that Avery is not being challenged academically and socially as much as he should be challenged; my wife agrees. His teachers, while well-intentioned, may not appreciate the depth and importance of his education RIGHT NOW as a 4th grader. However, we know and are absolutely aware about the social and developmental transitions on the immediate horizon for my son with a different-ability. These middle years are critical for our young men. We know from research that the educational experience and focus shifts from academic to social. What are we doing to meet their social needs? That is the question I posed to anyone who would listen. Do you remember this time for yourself? If not, allow me to remind you what you may have been experiencing developmentally. You likely became a bit more aware of interpersonal dynamics. What people said about you – in the classroom, on the basketball court or soccer field – began to matter a little more. You probably had your first crush. S/he was the finest person you’d seen: EVER IN LIFE!!! How people responded to you mattered, even if just a little more than before. Other people, and their opinions, likely influenced your decisions at that time. Do you remember? I remember. LaChan remembers. Nile remembers. And Avery will remember. After numerous email exchanges between us and his teachers, we found ourselves in a “spirited” phone conversation, only precipitated by LaChan’s comment ‘I can be at the school in 20 minutes’. My anger was palpable. How did I know? After about 3 minutes, I was yelling. My anger reflected frustration because his teachers were non-communicative. They didn’t have the same sense of urgency for addressing the needs of a young black male student as I did, let alone one with a so-called disability. My anger reflected how they didn’t appreciate the idea that– because of his diagnosed developmental differences AND his identity as an African-American boy – he could not afford to have school experiences void of rigor and challenge. Apparently, I didn’t realize I was yelling. After interrupting me, LaChan redirected the conversation and tried to reframe my concerns. I became an angry Black man in that moment. My son’s needs were being overlooked. The teachers responded (to my yelling) by telling us, “we didn't think he needed any additional support because he’s doing so well”. Wait, what? If one of my kids’ strengths is in memorizing spelling words – and he keeps getting perfect scores on spelling tests – WHY DOESN'T HE GET SPELLING WORDS THAT ARE MORE SOPHISTICATED?!?!?! Giving him more sophisticated words is an example of what educators call differentiated instruction, or adapting their teaching style and technique to meet students’ needs. When did teaching to the middle become okay? When did ‘normal’ become the new craze? What’s so special about normal anyway? I was full of questions that weren't being answered so I did what many of us do. I turned inward and became reflective. My devotional time for me is just that. As I prayed one morning, I wondered two things: Do Avery’s teachers experience me as a resource or an obstacle? Could the anger I expressed create a contentious environment for Avery? Avery’s teachers aren't spiteful, but people are susceptible to misdirecting anger, frustration, or impatience. My son doesn't deserve any of that. In the most recent days, my posture and Avery’s teachers’ posture has had to change. They are more willing to listen and hear feedback, and I am more willing to do the same. Now, my questions reflect a desire to understand. I could ask… Why? Why you haven’t given Avery more sophisticated spelling words? Why haven’t you responded to my emails about Avery’s behavior in class? Why haven’t you asked ME what would help my child to be more successful? Instead, I’ll say, Help me understand... Help me understand how these spelling words are going to challenge him academically. Help me understand what would help you communicate with me better about him. Help me understand what you need from me to support you in understanding my son’s strengths and growth areas. It’s immensely frustrating to have to reframe my concerns so that Avery’s faculty and staff don’t feel threatened. It’s more frustrating that his teachers seem to not appreciate his trajectory is inherently different because of his race and other ways he is different from his peers. LaChan and I have to trust that Avery’s teachers will grasp how important this is for him and us. And, in the most ideal circumstance, they would recognize that this experience is important for THEM, too, as educators. So, what am I learning in this experience? I’m learning that when we meet with his teachers and therapeutic staff face to face within the next 10 days, I need to think more about my son than about how offended I’ve been with his teachers’ behavior. I’m learning that it’s less important to fuss about their responsiveness to me and more important to help them in their responsiveness to my son’s needs. I’m learning that I better embrace the Bible verse, Philippians 4:19, where it reads, “And my God will liberally supply your every need according to His riches in glory…” Help me understand, man…
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AuthorI'm Mike. If you have an interest in mental health, family functioning, and disability advocacy, this blog may be of interest to you. Archives
January 2016
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