From across a busy hallway that is filled with sounds of adolescent chatter, I observe a petite frame hunched over in a chair like a little old man. Intensely focusing upon the small round Tupperware dish in his lap, he hastily picks away at it like some starving little bird that happens upon some tasty morsels buried under deep snow during winter. Completely unaware of the activity and business of the environment around him, he is purposeful upon his task. After all, he only has five minutes left for lunch and he must remain on schedule in order to avoid completely ruining his whole day! Behind him, large window panes brightly outline his small frame allowing an unexpected sun ray to highlight the strawberry blonde hues in his hair. Tucked ever so carefully under his chair, sits his orange and black backpack. Beside it on the floor, is an orange binder and an orange pencil case stacked “just so.” His orange lunchbox sits neatly beside his binder and pencil case and they all match the un-tucked orange plaid shirt that he wears. “Orange is my most favourite colour you know,“ he once said to me.
“Alison, I – I – I cannot go to class until I, until I, finish eating first. I became distracted by (? – I didn’t hear this part), and I simply, I simply just cannot continue onto my, to my, Keyboarding class until I finish my lunch and you, you, you just cannot make me go until I am ready. I’m going back to my table now so – so – so I can finish and so, and so, I won’t ruin my day and I will be able to focus better on my Keyboarding class.”
Smiling to myself as I walked away towards my own student, I could not help but think that I am convinced that despite the classic high functioning autistic traits that he displays, that he indeed, has an old soul in that little body of his.
