Linking vaccines to autism is harmful to autistic children

An Autistic's guide to autism: Most people don’t like math: the flaws in modern math education

Most people don’t like math. While this may not be so true of the Bowdoin populace (the population of Searles at any given time should attest to the inaccuracy of “most” in the case of Bowdoin), it is certainly true of the general public. There is a stigma that surrounds mathematics, a perception of math as an esoteric subject only the odd enjoy. Some might have found high school geometry pleasing, others may have enjoyed algebra, and some may say that they at least found calculus interesting, if not enjoyable. However, the vast majority of students can attest to having found at least one math class insufferable. “I hate math” is not an uncommon phrase in a math class.
Why is this? What part of mathematics is so intolerable that it can evoke such wrath, from children and adults alike?
I believe the flaw lies not with mathematics itself, but in the way it is presented.
Take as juxtaposition an art class: art assignments might range from painting a picture, to sketching an object, molding clay or capturing a photograph. These tasks are often simple, for the purposes of teaching, just as in math class one starts with the basics: addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Unlike in mathematics, there is an unspoken, almost unthought-of assumption and understanding that runs through any art class: that there is more beyond this. An artist practices his or her art so that he or she may move on to do better art, knowing full well that others have done this in the past. There is a cultural knowledge of art that, while not deep, is widespread. A child in their third grade art class is aware that art isn’t just making macaroni sculptures and drawing crayon flowers. They have heard of figures like Van Gogh and Picasso, perhaps not specifically of their accomplishments, but at least that they are artists and that they are important.
The same cannot be said for mathematics. Even a well educated individual may be under the impression that math stops at calculus, and even those interested in math— labeled as being gifted in the subject —may be under the impression that professional mathematics is like a competition, where mathematicians pose each other problems to solve, and whoever does so quickest wins. In reality, mathematics is a subject-spanning body of knowledge built up from logic to reveal truths about itself and the world. Modern mathematics comprises an enormous body of work, done by hundreds of thousands of men and women over the course of millennia, and stretching in scope from the simplest properties of numbers and shapes, to the truly abstract objects by which no real world object could ever hope to be modeled.
Modern math education teaches mathematics as a cut-and-dry way of finding answers to problems that ,to most students, didn’t need answering anyway. If instead, time was spent introducing children to the great accomplishments of mathematics: from simple to state problems like Fermat’s Last Theorem, to theorems which place limits on our ability to find definitive answers, like Gödel’s incompleteness theorems, to the problems which have yet to be solved, like the Riemann Hypothesis, then they may not have as much reason to hate the subject. If children knew the stories of great mathematicians like Euler, Gauss, Cantor and Galois, perhaps they might realize that there was more to math than saw in the classroom. Perhaps, their curiosity would be sparked, and one day they would go on to solve the great problems they had learned about. Pleasing ‘if’s indeed, but it is difficult to be curious about a world you do not know exists.

An Autistic's guide to autism: You don’t look like you have autism—the unintended impact of words

“You don’t look like you have autism.”
“You don’t sound like you have autism.”
“I wouldn’t know you had autism if you didn’t tell me.”
People have told me things like this many times over the years. As someone well adjusted to his autism, my behavior does not often match the autistic stereotype. Others often comment on this fact. While I know that people mean well, their words carry implications that can be hurtful.
When someone says that I “don’t look like I have autism,” I like to think that they are implying that I seem unperturbed by the difficulties faced by other autistic individuals. I do not noticeably rock in my seat, I do not reflexively vocalize at high volume and I do not flap my arms or find great difficulty in communicating with my peers. In other words, I appear “normal” to them—whatever that word may mean. It is true that I have learned to adapt to being autistic over the years: learning coping strategies that help me navigate social situations and other situations that I might otherwise find overwhelming, but saying something like “you don’t seem autistic” ignores a very real fact about me—I am autistic.
In my daily life, I maintain a constant stream of consciousness, tasked with keeping me adapted to the world around me. In order to maintain an air of ease in social situations, I practice conversations and “what if” scenarios in my head—sometimes a dozen at a time—just in case those situations might arise. I go to the dining halls as they open, so as not to be overwhelmed by the roar of a crowd I am certain to find at 9 a.m. or 6 p.m. The degree to which I make contact with others, the places I frequent and the people I spend my time with, even the music I listen to and the foods that I eat, are dictated by the fact that I am autistic. Most of the time, this is not an issue: not because it has never been an issue, but because I have adapted to being a certain way in a society designed for people who are different from me.
When people tell me that they would not know I was autistic if I had not told them, what I’d like to think they are commenting on is my success at adjusting to society.
What they are actually often trying to say is “you don’t seem to have anything wrong with you.” I resent that. There is not anything wrong with being autistic. Being autistic can be difficult, yes, but that does not equate to being defective. While I understand that people are trying to be kind when they separate me from my autism—and I appreciate the attempt—their implication is a little hurtful. I wish others would, as I have said often (and in jest) when presenting on the topic: “watch your language.”

An Autistic's guide to autism

Linking vaccines to autism is harmful to autistic children

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

Ben York

Contributor

November 18, 2015

Vaccines don’t cause autism.

In an ideal world, this article would stop with that sentence. Those words would be only an obvious reminder of a fact long accepted into the collective consciousness of civilization. This is not, however, an ideal world, and there are still those who believe there is a link between vaccination and autism. To these individuals, I could show the numerous studies and trials—involving millions of children from around the world—that show no correlation between vaccinations and autism. However, these individuals cannot and will not listen to logical arguments: arguments of reason, rationality or science. In a way, this makes sense.

Many who espouse the connection between vaccines and autism are parents. Mothers and fathers whose children are autistic, or who know parents whose children are autistic. To them this connection provides an explanation for why their children are different from the children they expected, or a reason why they as parents are protecting their children more than other parents. This thinking is misguided.

As an autistic person, when I hear the phrase “vaccines cause autism” I do not just hear a scientifically inaccurate statement. What I hear is the gravest insult I could ever receive. The diseases that vaccines protect from—measles, small pox, flu—are deadly. They kill people. Entire communities have been wiped out because of these diseases. When I hear someone say that they will not vaccinate their children because it might give them autism, what I hear is that what I am, who I am, the very essence of my being and identity, is worse than death itself. I hear that they would rather have a dead child over an autistic child. I hear that I am broken.

As a child this was harmful for me. I took from this that I was mistake: something that should not exist. This is a not something a child should think of themselves. When you walk into a restaurant, hungry and just wanting a meal, and find that you can’t eat anything on the menu because it is all too over stimulating; when every time someone grabs your shoulder—to congratulate you or comfort you—you tense and shriek and rock because even that touch is far too intense; when you realize in the dead of night that you do not know the color of your mother or fathers’ eyes because you have never made eye contact with them; when you feel isolated and alone and powerless because you are incapable of interacting with those you love in the way they so easily interact with one another, you do not need society telling you that you are broken. You need love and support and caring, a community with whom you can feel understood.

I do not fight for the truth that vaccines do not cause autism merely for the purpose of scientific literacy. I fight because I do not want children feeling about themselves the way I felt about myself. No child deserves that.

Comments are permanently closed.