My Tell-Tale Heart

[Editor’s note: I wrote this post based on conversations with my son, Jack. He read it over and asked me to tell you that he always has a sandwich after school now, except on Tuesdays. On Tuesdays he likes to have cereal.]

 

My Tell-Tale Heart

Hello.

I am Jack.

I am a teenager.

I have autism.

I am not like everyone else.

I jump around the room to calm my body.

I have a hard time

to find the right words.

I have very big thoughts

like an elephant in a crowded elevator.

Disney movies.

Cake recipes.

The weather.

 

All the time we talk about autism in my family.

At first for me

I was mad to talk about it.

But now, for us it is normal.

It is not a secret.

I am not a secret.

All throughout the house

I leave clues.

Stacks of cups in the cabinet,

organized by color.

Grocery lists by the bed.

Movie times in the calendar.

I am not a secret.

I am a boy.

 

My school is different.

Two years ago,

I did not want this school.

I screamed and said bad things.

I tried to run away.

I had my madness.

Two years now.

Two years, and

things have started to change,

like magic.

Not rabbit-out-of-the-hat magic.

More like caterpillar-into-butterfly magic.

Slow.

Slowly.

I let go of my madness

and made space in my brain.

I am learning.

I am knowing things.

Newton’s Law of Motion.

How to solve 5x – 2 = 18.

The Tell-Tale Heart

by Edgar Allen Poe.

Yes, it takes me longer

to learn the equations and the laws and the words.

I reread,

and repeat,

and redo.

Until it makes sense to me.

 

I am not like anyone else.

My mother says.

I am a luna moth

lighting in a snow tree.

Uncommon.

Unusual.

Magnificent.

 

This week, she came from a meeting,

called the I.E.P.

Individualized Education Plan.

This is where

my mother and my father and my teachers and my therapists and my case manager

sit around a shiny wooden table.

To talk about goals

and progress

and autism.

 

When my mother walked in the door,

her face was mismatched.

Wet eyes.

Smiley mouth.

Busy, happy hands.

Jack! Jack.

Upturned eyes from my after-school sandwich.

Jack. We met with your team.

 

I waited without words.

 

They said it is possible

you could graduate

with a high school degree.

 

A high school degree. 

A high school degree.

When I am eighteen years old.

Right away I thought about all the things

other people have

which might also be mine.

A white tent in the backyard.

Long sandwiches across the table.

A cap on my head and a diploma in my hand.

A degree. For finishing high school.

 

She said

there is work ahead of me.

Volunteer time.

A senior project.

School all year round.

More algebra.

But I can do it.

She thinks I can do it.

They think I can do it.

 

I am not like everybody else.

I have a small fire within me,

                                                                and every day it burns a little brighter.

I will not give up.

My tell-tale heart.

A heart.

That tells it’s own tale.

 

Jack-a-boo? Buddy? What are you thinking?

 

Only I couldn’t find the words to explain

what is in my head.

I am Jack.

I am fourteen.

I am possible.

 

Objects in motion will stay in motion.

 An object in rest will stay in rest.

For every action there is equal and opposite reaction.

2022