The Planet APSE

This week I gave a presentation on autism and no one, not even one person, during or after the presentation, or even the next day, mentioned the movie Rain Man to me. This is a first. Rain Man has come up at every talk I've done before this, through, I promise, no fault of my own. I have always tried to respond politely that yes, that is one way autism can look, one of many, many ways. It was nice not to have to do that.

What was even better, what was amazing to me about this particular group, was the way they listened. No one argued against what I said about person-first language. Instead, someone asked me afterward how professionals could help spread the word about the preferences of autistic adults without appearing to be ignorant of the more accepted standards used in particular fields. No one even tried to steer the conversation toward the imaginary epidemic, though I'd opened the door for them to do so. As a matter of fact, every question directed toward me was thoughtful and relevant to the materials presented and given in a spirit of obvious respect for the autistic persons in the lives of the askers. I felt almost as if I had landed on a different planet.

The name of this planet is APSE (formerly the Association of Persons in Supported Employment). These are the folks who work with employers to develop, facilitate or create jobs for people with a wide range of what society views as disabling conditions. What they do best is listen. They listen to what employers need and to what the individuals they serve need and value and want to do. As a group, they understand the true meanings of words like "ally" and "empower" and they know how to step aside when they start getting in the way.

The talk I gave this week was for the APSE conference in my state. It was about Autism at Work, and partly based on my personal experiences and those of other autistic people I know. It was attended by a variety of professionals, several of whom also have autistic family members. None of them said anything like, "You are not like my child; my child is really autistic." In other words, they didn't disrespect, disregard or call me a liar. They listened. They shared their own stories with me. They waited patiently and respectfully as I tried to remember the words for things.

Not everyone was so perfectly nice, of course; these are human beings after all, and there was an incident I didn't appreciate in the least. I may write about that in a day or two, after I've gotten some distance from it. It was a different experience overall, though, and one I'm very happy to have had.

I made it through almost the entire three days without a word about Hollywood portrayals of my people (other than Jerry Espenson, of course). Then on the way out, someone stopped me. "Have you seen the movie..."

I was reminding my eyes not to roll. No worries, though. She just wanted to know if I'd seen Mozart and the Whale, if I'd liked it. I gave it a mixed review. At least it was something from this decade.