Autistic
Not broken. Not in crisis. Not an object of intervention. A way of being.
Autistic, in this archive, is used as an identity, a politic, and a framework for understanding experience—especially in hostile systems. It is not a diagnosis to be fixed, but a neurotype with its own sensory logic, relational depth, and communication patterns. This tag collects writing by and with autistic people, especially children and families, on surviving education systems that were never built with us in mind.
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The cancellation
When the principal cancelled the volleyball game, she did more than remove an afternoon of play from a group of eager children, she transformed what should have been a moment of joy and collective affirmation into despair and humiliation, converting what should have been an opportunity to connect and excel as a team into a…
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This isn’t a unique case, is it?
My children’s father said in a meeting: “Surely you’ve dealt with this before and you have a solution? This isn’t a unique case, is it?” The question hung in the air, simple and devastating, exposing in one breath the entire pretence on which school leadership rests. The question matters because it cuts through bureaucratic delay…
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The fallout of regressive discipline: from community trust to mental health
In schools across British Columbia and beyond, discipline often unfolds not as a considered intervention tailored to individual needs, but as a blunt, collective act that seeks to restore order quickly by suspending joy or opportunity for all. The cancellation of recess, the revocation of a field trip, the withholding of an earned privilege—all for…
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The legal playbook every parent needs
When your child’s education is on the line, every conversation with a school team feels like walking a tightrope: you want collaboration, but you also carry the weight of knowing that human rights are not polite suggestions — they are legal obligations owed to your child. And here’s the truth: the minute you bring up the Human…
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Disgusted with myself: how school advocacy erodes self-compassion
Some days I feel my own face harden, the jaw locking and the air leaving my lungs in a clipped exhale, the eyes narrowing into a refusal that feels like muscle memory. It is the same recoil I have seen across the meeting table, the same signal that too much has been brought into the…
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Parenting through gaslighting and grief
In the early days, our relationship was luminous, almost feverishly bright with attention and agreement and what I understood then as love—its intensity, its precision, the way it seemed to reach for every part of me, even the parts I kept hidden, even the ones I feared were too strange or fragile to show. I…
