I got a message from a family yesterday that I hold near and dear to my heart. Ellen and Larry are raising three great children, one of whom has an autism spectrum disorder. Joey is a child that makes me rethink everything I think I know about autism. He constantly pushes me to be more creative, to think miles outside the box, and to see the world from a perspective that sometimes seems as alien as a Martian landscape. Joey is a child that could easily be lost in the clinical terminology and educational minefields we often see in autism spectrum disorders. It would be easy to say there’s nothing that can help, no way to connect, no bridges to build, no sense in even trying to understand his alien little world. It would be easy but it wouldn’t be in Joey’s best interest.

You see, I believe in Joey.

I believe he has more to offer me than I could ever offer him. I see beyond the labels and beyond the needs and beyond the struggles to some core spark that only Joey has. It might be easier to say we’ll never understand Joey, but sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.

The message I got from Ellen was an update on Joey’s feeding progress. I myself have dealt with feeding problems and the kiddo on the spectrum—Ewan is the classical ‘complex’ kid—not just autistic but dealing with co-morbidities and difficulties that lie outside the spectrum. Ewan has dealt with his own feeding aversions and medical care but when I think of Joey, I think of the mother of all feeding problems.

Joey is about 5 minutes away from supplemental tube feedings and in reality, the reason he currently doesn’t have a tube already is because there’s just no way the ‘autistic’ part of Joey could handle the intrusion. Joey’s mom and dad have fought harder and longer and without break than any other parent I’ve ever met—fought for every bite, every sip, and every foray into the world of food. The fact is that for some children with autism—eating is not instinctual. The fact is some of them will starve before eating what's on their plate. Eating is hard work for these children. It takes every ounce of their strength to sit at the table day after day and night after night. It takes every ounce of resolve to look at this alien food item and put it in their mouths. We rarely recognize the sheer determination these children have in coming back to the table again and again. And we rarely respect what they can and can't handle.

The fact is children with feeding problems often don’t recognize food as food. For us, as adults, we recognize food versus non food items pretty easily. That is, until we visit another country with differing views of what the word ‘edible’ means. Plop most of us down in the Amazon and the majority of us won’t recognize the ‘food’ readily available.

It’s all about context.

As adults, we have a lifetime of learning experiences that have taught us what food is, where it comes from, what it might taste like, and what our preferences might be. Children lack that context. Children lack that experience. It’s as if they are continually foraging in that Amazonian jungle looking for the neon sign flashing, “This is edible.” This is why food education is so important to all children, but most especially children who see food a little bit differently.

For Joey, food looks like leaves. Joey has had some tough times in his life but right now he likes spinach leaves. Last summer, he was interested in the Hosta plants and peppers found in his yard. In his mind, what looks like food should look like some variety of vegetable—he is the ultimate hippy, the ultimate vegetarian, the ultimate gatherer. Ellen and Joey’s feeding team (Food Chaining gals) were able to ‘chain’ Joey’s interest from the pretty Hosta plants in the yard towards spinach and he now eats that by the truckload.

Yesterday, Ellen let me know that while on the playground Joey went over and started picking and eating clovers. Based on that, Ellen sent Joey to school with a big bag of wild baby arugula. The staff placed the arugula out in the yard and let Joey ‘forage’ for his food. And he loved it. And he ate the whole giant bag of it. And he also ate some clover and some dandelion as well. It was probably the most nutritious snack being eaten in a 40 mile radius yesterday—and for Joey it didn’t need to come prepackaged in a sterile little plastic bag.

Now, is this a very different way of approaching the idea of eating and food education? Yep, it sure is. But sometimes we must force ourselves out of the box to see the world from an autistic standpoint. Sometimes we’ve got to blow the box up into a million tiny pieces and allow ourselves the ability to strike out in a brave new way and see the world from an autistic perspective. Sometimes we need to chuck the status quo out to have eyes that see.

Sometimes we don’t need a bowl of salad—sometimes we need a yard salad. If we continually try and push this child into the ‘typical’ mold we may just miss the boat entirely. This child needs us to be flexible, needs us to change the way WE think, needs us to find new and CREATIVE ways of teaching. We often expect the child with autism to conform to OUR way of thinking, to OUR expectations, to OUR standards. Yet we don’t often have those same expectations of ourselves.

It’s about building bridges: bridges between the world of autism and the world of the neurotypical. Joey’s bridge is the edible yard and Ellen is already planning her garden and summer plantings. Stretch your imagination. Find your edible yard. Look for bridges wherever they might be. And if you decide to pick up some clover and start chomping—add salt, it helps with digestion!