by Tammy Dasher
She sits on the edge of her seat, across the table from me, white knuckling her purse straps. The scene was familiar—long years of sitting across a table from pre-k teachers with worried frowns, or from special educators at endless IEP meetings, or maybe the middle school principal when the bullying was so bad, or more recently the high school guidance counselor tallying up his credits. It was familiar, but it was uncomfortable.
“You know the prayer of moms with kids with special needs?” she asks. I do know it: God, please let me live just one day longer than my child so I can always make sure he is cared for and loved in this world that can be so cruel. When I nod she continues, “I don’t even need one day; I pray I live just one minute longer than my child.”
Though her words are sad, she doesn’t cry. She looks at me with the eyes of a mom who has fought long and hard for her son. While weary from always feeling like the only one in his corner, her eyes let me know she still has plenty of fight left when it comes to her boy.
April is Autism Acceptance Month, and the autism community is lighting it up blue, wearing red instead, proudly displaying their puzzle piece t-shirts, and embracing the neurodivergent infinity symbol. It is the month when parents can find resources and advocates at the numerous events held in parks, libraries, and schools all over the country.
At NextStep at Endeavor Academy in Marianna, Florida, every month is the perfect month for showing acceptance for neurodivergent people. NextStep is a two-year transition program for autistic adults which focuses on employment, independent living, and community connection. Since 2022 we have had hundreds of enrollments in our full-time Transition Academy and our part-time short courses. Our social short course, Stepping Out with NextStep, currently has nearly 40 participants in our groups in Marianna, Tallahassee, Panama City, and Dothan. 100% of our Transition Academy participants have been competitively employed upon graduation and remain so to this day.
I tell the mom across the table from me all this.
“He stims,” she says.
“Everybody stims,” I respond gently, “and we don’t mind that here.”
Autism acceptance is more than a celebratory month at NextStep. It appears daily in our interactions with the adults we serve. We recognize and value the unique characteristics that come with an autism diagnosis, and we also appreciate the unique characteristics we all have that make us human. Acceptance is something all of us are looking for—we all want to be seen and heard and valued. In his book Flourish: The Art of Building Meaning, Joy, and Fulfillment, author Daniel Coyle writes about what makes a meaningful life. Connecting with others is key; finding acceptance where we can “let our armor down” is the first step.
I look past the mom’s shoulder into our NextStep common area and kitchen, thinking about all the parent conversations I have had over the years. We’re Scared to Let Her Near the Stove was pulling a pound cake out of the oven, We Don’t Think He’ll be Able to Hold a Job was headed to the restroom to change into his work uniform, and We’re Heartbroken He’s Never Had a Friend was playing Battleship with his buddy. Across the way at NextStep Apartments, I’m Worried He Will Never Be Independent was putting his groceries away in his kitchen, I’m Afraid She Won’t Ever Be Able to Drive was getting into her truck to go to work, and I Just Want Him to Experience All the Things Other People Get to Experience was getting ready to go out to dinner with friends.
Just like you and me, people with autism thrive when they feel accepted and valued. When the right supports are paired with meaningful work, they are some of the most loyal employees you will ever have. When taught with patience and evidence-based practices, they will succeed in ways you never dreamed possible. When mastery of skills turns to fluency with skills, they will feel safe enough to strive for goals with confidence. When parents have hope that there are places like NextStep, they can let their armor down a bit, too.
I smile at the mom across from me then, getting up and moving away from that table between us. “Come and talk to our students,” I say, leading her toward them and already imagining all the wonderful accomplishments He Stims will be making in his next two years at NextStep.
Tammy Dasher is the director of NextStep at Endeavor Academy. She can be reached at TDasher@NextStepatEndeavor.org.
