Send in the Idiots: Stories from the Other Side of Autism

But one little boy, Craig, has echolalia, 'the constant, disconnected use of a particular word or phrase,' in this case, 'Send in the idiots.' Thus, Ms. Russell would read, 'Gridlock continues between the White House and Congress,' and Craig would chime in, 'Send in the idiots.' How far off, the author hints, was Craig's repetitive chant? Idiots abound. Physical and mental limitations are always with us. It's not just people with autism who are off the mark. We're all off the mark, one way or another.

Flash-forward a little more than 20 years. Kamran Nazeer has become what we call 'high functioning.' He's studied some law, completed his PhD thesis, worked as a British civil servant and written for several publications. Then he gets the idea of revisiting some of the classmates he knew as a preschooler. A 'typical' kid would have a difficult, if not impossible, time finding them or even remembering their names, but parents of kids with autism form close bonds. His mom and dad have kept in touch with the other parents over the years. So Nazeer sets out to visit four of his old classmates.

How did they turn out? The answer may offer some clues to a larger question: What's going to happen to this massive generation of children who have been part of the current, much-dreaded epidemic of this mental disorder?

Currently, as many as one in every 166 children born in the United States will develop autism. 'Whirling ... running to and fro; bouncing; walking on toes and in other peculiar ways; banging or rolling heads; mouthing and licking things; grinding teeth; blinking; moving fingers as if double-jointed' and being unwilling or unable to talk — these are some of the symptoms that affect these children. And at this point, we have little information in print about what it all means, only anguished accounts by mothers about what may or may not work in terms of child care, or academic speculation by 'experts' who — no matter how distinguished they may be — still haven't found a cause, a cure or a guaranteed successful treatment. Books by Temple Grandin, a woman with autism who grew up to fashion a new kind of chute for cattle, offer little real insight into the condition. And the mercury-in-our-vaccines argument offers more heat than light on the subject.

Forget all that for now. The question for Nazeer and for his schoolmates is whether they can live in the world without catastrophe. Certainly Nazeer is well and competent enough to go researching. He looks up four autistic kids he went to school with: Craig, the little boy who first asked Ms. Russell to send in those idiots; Andre, who is beset by bouts of violence; Randall, who is being taken advantage of by an unscrupulous lover; and Elizabeth, who has killed herself by the time Nazeer catches up with her family.

Andre, the one with the temper, lives with his sister now, but he's done time in a juvenile facility for inadvertently almost killing somebody. He's constructed a set of puppets and speaks mostly through them. When Nazeer interrupts a puppet, he finds himself locked in the bathroom. Andre works in computers, his sister loves him, and they have friends to hang out with. If he learns to control his temper, he'll survive.

Randall is a different story. He works as a courier in downtown Chicago and is in a relationship with someone who appears to be a loving, faithful gay man. This man, Mike, is Randall's buffer against the outside world: He makes the phone calls and explains to Randall when he is being taken advantage of. But it turns out that he's doing a little taking advantage himself — fooling around, and assuming that because Randall is autistic, he won't notice. To read this chapter is to burn with rage.

Elizabeth, despite her parents' very best efforts, couldn't stand either the complexities of the larger world or the constant, always unexpected taunts of strangers. Her 'vocalizing' in public, for instance, made her prey to people who couldn't resist making fun of her. When clinical depression was added to her autism, she ended her own suffering.

With Craig, Nazeer finds the closest thing he can expect to a real friend. Although both are moderately autistic, they have plenty to talk about, and so they devise rules for conversation: taking turns, rolling paper clips in their pockets or holding on to other talismans for self-confidence. Together, they seem happy — even proud — to be alive. They have gotten better, whatever that means. 'Our autism eased,' he writes, 'in each case, because of other people, our parents, friends, and our teachers, of course.'

Of course, there are those whose autism doesn't ease. What will become of them (or their caretakers), we can't know. But these words, written by a precocious, even slightly know-it-all author, may in themselves ease the agony of parents and grandparents who have seen their children inexplicably skid away into a place where they seem untouchable, locked into an inscrutable world of their own." Reviewed by Carolyn See, Washington Post Book World (Copyright 2006 Washington Post Book World Service/Washington Post Writers Group)
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