Saying "yes" to individuals on the spectrum

We were spread out on the grass for our working lunch on “class management and safety” at my canoe instructor training last Sunday, when I raised the question of how best to tell someone that they are not qualified to take our class, even a basic, introductory one. 

“Yes,” a seasoned instructor from across the circle chimed in, “Think of all the parents who bring their kids with attention and focus issues. It’s a real problem for the other participants.”

Oh dear, I thought to myself. I had been thinking about someone morbidly obese with a high risk of cardiac arrest, not a kid, like mine, on the autism spectrum.

So I didn’t waste another breath before responding, “But that’s a group that really needs us. Think about all the kids—and adults—on the autism spectrum. We could be serving them so much better.”

It was Mother’s Day, and though I was in southwestern Virginia, nearly five hundred miles away from my kids, I was thinking about them and how paddling has been such a big part of our life and what a loss it would have been if someone along the way had told us, “No, don’t join the canoe class, because it’s a real problem for the other participants.”

Sure, it isn’t always pleasant to be out on the water with Julian. He complains louder than my other kids when he’s tired and hungry, says things that are inappropriate, and likes to paddle his own course. Lining up behind me and playing “follow the leader”—a basic paddling game— has never been his thing.

And, yet, when my husband Jeremy and I shift our perspective, and follow him, or at the very least, allow for the possibility for him to chart his own course, beautiful things have happened: he has become a competent, often enthusiastic, paddler, who is intuitively figuring out advanced concepts like edging and bracing.

Doing this kind of paradigm shift when it comes to teaching individuals with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) is something that we need to be doing more of, or, at the very least, thinking about.

That’s why I was pleased when Beth Wiegandt, our lead instructor and the chair of the Introduction to Paddling Committee at the American Canoe Association (ACA), affirmatively responded to my suggestion that the ASD population can indeed be better served in the world of paddling. She explained to our group that the ACA’s Universal Paddling program has long had an Adaptive Paddling program that serves individuals with physical disabilities. The same committee recently developed and is now offering Advanced Communication to create paddling experiences for those with communication challenges.  Future plans include curricula that train instructors how best to meet the needs of students with disabilities that range from emotional to intellectual, and would include those on the autism spectrum.  

As an autism mom, Functional Nutrition and Lifestyle Practitioner (FNLP), and newly minted ACA-certified paddling instructor (!), I am thrilled to hear about such a development. The key element, as I see it, is effectively communicating what participants should expect. A schedule, preferably a visual one that is distributed before the class, would detail each activity, from warm-up games to what time and where instruction on the various strokes would commence. 

For day-long excursions, telling participants exactly where they will have lunch and where the bathrooms are, is critical. Now this might sound obvious, but, let me tell you, when you’re paddling even in a not-so-remote location, figuring out where to pee takes planning and ingenuity.

Of course, instructors will deviate from the schedule. It happens. But having a clear set of expectations will help enable success—and, frankly, this kind of clarity will help everyone. 

As Julian’s mom, I can tell you that if you give him a map and let him plan the route with you, he will be engaged; in fact, he might even help you lead the trip!

And, as an FNLP, allow me to also add that ensuring that participants are well rested and have eaten a protein-rich breakfast—and snacks and lunch replete with fat, fiber, and protein—will also make for a better day out on the water. There’s no question: days when we fuel ourselves with eggs/meat/nuts/seeds in the morning, versus ones when we start with boxed cereal, are always going to be better. But this is true for all of us, disability or not, and, much as we want teachers to help us improve our skills, they can only do so if students come to class with their basic needs met. 

The fact is all of us have strengths and challenges. Individuals with ASD might have more pronounced ones, but to leave them out of the class for fear they might ruin it for the next person is, I’ll wager, going to be a missed opportunity. By design, ACA intro to canoeing classes are small with a 1:6 instructor ratio. Another instructor can always be added and preparatory work can be done in advance to ensure success. Parents of kids with special needs, like myself and my husband, are often more than eager to help. 

During our training, time was set aside to discuss diversity in the paddling community. As confirmed by the 2019 Outdoor Foundation’s “Participation Report,” the majority of outdoor recreational participants are Caucasian. This was borne out in our class: of the 18 student participants, there was one black man, the rest of us—15 men and two women—were white. Becoming more racially (and sexually!) diverse is among the top priorities of the ACA—a move that I wholeheartedly support—and, at the same time, I want applaud efforts to embrace neuro-diversity as well. And, not to belabor the obvious, but I’m talking the kind of ASD that can be much more debilitating than that which seemingly affects Elon Musk and Bill Gates, although I’m curious to see them paddle a canoe.

Back to the issue at hand, sometimes a “special class” is warranted. But when we look at all our students as unique, with their own ways of learning, we make the most progress, and, just as important, have the most fun. So, fellow ACA instructors—and, for that matter, all parents and educators: let’s figure out a way to say, “Yes,” to as many people as we can, including children and adults with all kinds of physical and so-called “invisible” disabilities. Let’s do this not only in paddling sports but wherever we have the opportunity to make the world a better place.