Annie Lubliner Lehmann’s son Jonah was diagnosed with autism at the age of three. After twenty-two years of struggling to change her son, Lehmann writes that it was Jonah who finally changed her:
Not long ago, I came across a basement copy of “Cinderella.” It reminded me of a time when he was 5, when I last tried to read it to him. Well, not read, exactly; Jonah has always had
a low tolerance for traditional reading, and stories must be sung or recited rhythmically.As I sang “Cinderella,” he rolled on the floor, seemingly oblivious to the story. Still, I clung to the idea that I might be able to engage him, so I left a sentence for him to complete.
“The clock struck 12,” I sang off key, “and Cinderella ran down the palace steps, leaving behind a glass . . . .”
He continued rolling while I waited to hear him say “slipper.”
At last he finished the sentence for me. “Of milk,” he said.
I smiled, and I’m smiling still. For Jonah had made a student of his teacher. I would never again be able to read or think of “Cinderella” without seeing a tumbler of milk on the palace steps.
Jonah turned 25 last fall, and when I look at him I can’t help wondering if the past years weren’t some heaven-directed scheme meant to humble us and teach us the value of acceptance. Understanding that we couldn’t change him had changed us . . . .
He remains a man of very few words. But though it took us years, we have finally learned that there was something to hear in his silence.
