Why labelling kids is wrong...

We’ve been pretty lucky health-wise with our kids (touch wood!). Two of them have never seen a doctor for anything other than immunisation, and apart from the time when four of them came down with chicken pox, we’ve been troubled by little more than the odd sniffle.

We did, however, go through a scare with the ten-year-old boy several years back, when we thought he might be autistic. I’ve chosen to write about this because only last week yet another friend confided she was having two of her kids tested for autism, and it struck me that this is something I hear all too often from other mothers.

Before I go any further, I want to say two things: firstly, I’m not a medical expert, and am talking purely about my own experiences. Secondly, autism is a very serious condition and my heart goes out to anyone with an autistic child, it is not an easy path.

But I do wonder if these ‘spectrum’ conditions – such as autism, Aspergers, ADD -- are over-diagnosed at times.

When my son first started school his teacher pulled me aside and asked me if he had hearing problems. He didn’t, I told her, but was often ‘on another planet’ and didn’t listen. She raised a sceptical eyebrow.

A couple of weeks later, she told me he was showing signs of dyspraxia – his fine and gross motor skills weren’t very well developed and he was uncoordinated; he might need therapy. These words were unfamiliar to me, and I was fearful. Were things really that bad? I wondered. Sure, he was a bit clumsy, and a little ‘odd’; he tended to fixate on things, and at the time was obsessed with Pinocchio. The obsessions shifted over time from Greek Gods, to Woody from Toy Story (he would  stare at his picture on a piece of paper for ages...just staring). He wouldn’t look you in the eye.

Some months later we moved to the UAE, and having seen his school report, his new school refused to admit him until he was psychologically assessed. I was frantic; what if they wouldn’t take him? What if he if had to go to a special needs school?

Mercifully the school were satisfied by the assessment, and grudgingly admitted him, but his behaviour over the following weeks became increasingly erratic. He would throw tantrums each morning before school, would escape from his classroom and generally cause mayhem. And the swearing! Words like Tourettes, Aspergers and dyslexia were tossed casually around by the teachers.

He couldn’t read. During a school show, while the other six-year-olds read lines from cards, he tumbled around at the back of the stage yelling rude words until he was removed. I clamped my mouth to conceal my hysterical, terrified giggles.

I was advised to have him formally assessed again. This time the psychologist concluded he was on the autistic spectrum, albeit high-functioning.

I was frightened; my shy, gentle, odd little boy was dragging me into new territory; a terrifying world of appointments and therapy, of special needs assistants and labels. What did the future hold for him?

His teacher confided one day that she felt he lacked confidence, partly due to his inability to read.

I mulled this over for a while, and then as with all of life’s quandaries, took to the internet to find a solution. I came across a programme claiming to help children to read (easyreadsystem.com), and I signed up immediately. And reader, it was magic! Fifteen minutes a day for a week is all it took for him to be able to read simple words. In a month he was level with his peers. After two months I cancelled my subscription, his reading level had shot up, and his bad behaviour had stopped entirely.

My son is now ten, and although still a little unusual, I love him all the more for it. He spells better than me, reads voraciously into the small hours, and is a gifted and creative writer who invents his own words. Yes he’s a bit of a loner, but kind and empathetic. He can look me in the eye.

I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had gone down the route of therapy with him; if I had -- at such a young age -- marked him out as ‘different’. If I had pandered to his so-called ‘special needs’, as so many other frightened and confused parents do these days. Who knows,  I’m just glad I didn’t find out.
(This column appeared in Good Taste Magazine in June 2013).