A Moment of Silence
Connor watched the trees’ shadows stretch across the road as the evening sun struggled to stay above them. So far they had been driving on the same straight road for twenty minutes and hadn't seen another car, person, or animal. Both passengers stared straight ahead, anticipating the end of the dreary forest and the reveal of their new hometown. When they finally out-ran the woods, the sight they yearned for so desperately left them disappointed. Unveiled was a row of homes which bordered the road and featured partially boarded up windows, stained siding, and brown grass. Torn chain-link fencing separated the properties and blended into the already gray atmosphere. “At least it’s consistent,” Martha said sarcastically. A tear forced its way out of her eye and down her left cheek, hidden from her son sitting beside her. Memories flooded her mind of a time when she knew what it felt like to smile and laugh with her husband and family. Keep it together Martha, she told herself. “What do you think Connor?” she asked while forcing a grin. Her passenger focused on the somber landscape passing by and remained silent. She made a sharp right turn onto Lampman Avenue and followed the dirt road until she reached house number 461. The car jerked left and began to travel up a driveway dotted with potholes. The house was hidden behind a thick wall of intertwined, bare trees and was only visible after traveling the driveway for a good hundred metres. Its appearance was similar to that of the previously passed residences: gloomy, un-kept and sluggish. “I know it’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” she sighed, “but it’s what we could afford.” Once again, her son was silent. She put the car into park, reached over and ran her fingers through his thick, brown hair. Connor sat curled up in his seat, taking up only a fraction of the space any other thirteen year-old would have. He looked over at his mother and with an expressionless face told her “A house is a house”. Almost as abruptly as the arrival of his words, Connor jumped out of the vehicle and began to approach the weathered front door. Martha remained in the car, replaying the sound of her son’s voice over in her head, as she knew that she would most likely not hear it again soon.
“Your room is there on the left, Connor.” She pointed to a door that was once black but has turned to the colour of graphite thanks to a thick layer of dust. Connor turned the doorknob and cringed as it squealed to open. Martha grimaced in sympathy, knowing that the noise caused her son pain. He reluctantly entered the room. The room’s wallpaper curled off the walls, reaching for the dirt-covered ground. The hardwood floor creaked as he walked toward his bed. He cupped his hands to his ears. Inside his mind, a blender ran empty, but with each creak of the floor boards, a handful of coins was added. The sound it produced was sinfully ugly. Martha watched as he put his weight down cautiously onto the bed. He sat on the edge and looked up at the ceiling, praying for silence but knowing wholeheartedly that it would never come. Martha walked gently towards her son and kissed his forehead. “Tomorrow is your first day. Get some rest.” She forced her eyes shut in anger knowing that she had just told her son to do something that, for him, was impossible.
In the kitchen, Martha thought about Connor’s first day at his new school. She worried that no one would understand her autistic child’s daily struggle with harassing noises in his head, his resistance to communicate and his susceptibility to bullying. She knew that he could be set off by the smallest things. An electric pencil sharpener, being put on the spot to speak, chatter, a slamming door… anything and everything could send him spiraling into a public breakdown which would surely earn him the title of “spaz” or “freak-show”. She put down the phone and distracted herself with the trunk full of boxes awaiting her in the driveway.
Connor’s body jolted awake only three short hours after Martha tucked him in. His mind was running quicker than ever before as he anxiously thought about what the day had in store. I hate change, he thought to himself. His mind imitated the screeching brakes of a school bus arriving at the end of the driveway. The bus, filled with shouting children, lined with sweaty seats and filled with vile scents, was a rolling tube of misery. He thought of the schoolyard where children hunted and preyed on the strange kids. He knew he was defenseless against his enemies. He had refused to talk to his peers for the previous 8 years and didn’t plan on changing his ways now. Give them five minutes and they will pick me out, he thought to himself while looking at his reflection. His lanky legs took up well over half of the full body mirror. Rays of moonlight penetrated through the cracks of the blind, making his skin glow. I don’t even look normal, he thought as his eyes focused on his scrawny figure. His palms began to sweat as he imagined the pain he would feel as the cruel words leapt out from his predators’ mouths and latched onto his neck, teeth first.
Before he knew it, the miserable bus from his imagination was stopped at the end of his driveway, waiting for him to board. The bus was just as he expected it to be. Children were sprawled out on the seats and across the aisles shouting to their friends three rows away. Connor studied the bus for a few moments, searching for an empty seat away from the madness. Front seat will have to do, he told himself. When he sat down, the cushion wheezed out the smell of old lunch meat, adding to the accuracy of the bus he imagined hours before. “Good morning kid. You’re new to the area eh?” the bus driver smiled into the mirror above his head as he greeted Connor. “Nervous?” the voice asked after Connor stared blankly at him and did not reply. “I guess you’re not one for talking”, the driver said as he gave up trying to engage Connor in conversation. You don’t get it, Connor thought. Discouraged by his latest conversation, or lack thereof, he looked out his window and counted the houses in attempt to block out the children’s roaring voices and calm himself before arriving at the school.
The bus made a sharp right turn into the parking lot of the school. Letters that spelled out Esther Village Middle School struggled to hang onto the crumbling brown bricks they were drilled into. Connor remembered the beautiful red brick of his old school. He remembered the sound of bumblebees in the garden in front of the office and children laughing while playing on the jungle gym. Here he saw none of that. Instead of the brick being vibrant and red, it was dull and brown. Instead of a lush garden with bumblebees and flowers, there was a patch of dirt with weeds and spiders. Instead of children laughing there were teachers whistling. And instead of a jungle gym there was a group of half-dead oak trees in the far right corner of the yard.
“You must be Connor,” a voice said behind him. He turned around and was met by a woman much taller than himself. She wore a yellow dress that matched her golden blonde hair. She was holding a stack of books that made her wobble in her high heels.“I’m Ms. Tenya, and I’ll be your new teacher,” she said while smiling. Connor looked at her with an expressionless face but Ms. Tenya was not thrown off by his reaction at all. Instead, she led him into the classroom and showed him to his seat before any of the other students came in. The classroom was much smaller than the ones at his previous school. The walls were bare aside from a poster at the front of the class which read How to Make a Full Sentence. The desks were arranged in rows parallel with the dust-covered black board. Connor was placed right in the middle of the third row. His chair wobbled as he sat down. The desk, covered in scratches and rude drawings, barely fit over his knees. “Make yourself comfortable. The rest of the class will join us in a few minutes,” Ms. Tenya said while rustling through the brightly-coloured papers on her desk. As he waited, his mind once again imitated the cruel bullies he encountered at his old school. Just ignore them, he told himself, knowing that it would be his only defense against them.
The children piled into the class and took their seats without noticing the boy sitting in the middle of the room. Chattering filled the classroom until the teacher hushed them and began with her lesson. “Ok, class, let’s discuss what you read.” She was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Connor, startled by the abrupt noise, jumped in his seat. He turned his head and watched as the door opened. His eyes widened as he examined the massive figure standing in the doorway. “Good morning Brett,” Ms. Tenya smiled as she welcomed him into the class. The floor vibrated as Brett walked towards his seat at the back of the class. All the students watched him as he sat down. The seat squeaked, struggling to hold up his massive body. Connor turned around slowly, to avoid being noticed by his intimidating peer. “Who’s that?” Brett bellowed in Connor’s direction. “This is Connor, our new student,” Ms. Tenya responded to Brett. Connor did not dare to turn around and greet the man child sitting in the back row. “What a weirdo,” Brett responded when Connor did not move from his curled up position. The class tried to control their giggling, knowing that it would earn them a scolding from the teacher. Connor looked at the clock and felt his stomach sink when he realized it was almost time for recess.
The doors flung open as students poured out into the school yard. Connor was mixed in amongst the herd. He cupped his ears in attempt to block out the shrieks and shrills of excitement all around him. When he finally broke free of the pack he found himself at the far end of the yard amongst the trees he seen from the bus window. For some reason no other students went near the trees where Connor was standing. Instead, they stared at him with shocked looks on their faces. Am I standing on forbidden territory or something? he asked himself. Suddenly, a shadow surrounded Connor. As he turned, the children’s faces began to make sense. “What do you think you’re doing here weirdo?” Brett snarled at Connor. He put his hand on Connor’s shoulder and shoved him back, asking him once again “What are you doing here, spaz?” Connor’s silence only irritated Brett further. Another shove and insult followed. The hurtful names exploded out of Brett’s mouth and into Connor’s ears like a thousand angry wasps. The wasps swarmed Connor’s mind, creating a cacophony of buzzing that got louder and louder with every passing second. Brett extended his arms and used his brute force to push Connor back again. Connor stumbled backwards, tripping on an exposed root, and fell to the ground. His head hit the ground hard, causing the dirt to fly up into the air. Without warning, his mind was silent. For the first time in his life, Connor heard nothing other than his own thoughts. An overwhelming sense of peace and tranquility washed over his body, but didn’t stay for long. His eyes opened and saw his bully standing over him. Almost as suddenly as his fall, Connor began to shout. “Can’t you see that my life is hard enough?” he spat out at Brett. Brett’s expression changed instantly as he listened to Connor explain the daily obstacles he had to overcome as a result of his Autism. Brett listened as Connor explained the constant noise that harassed his mind and prevented him from experiencing any moments of peace and how he struggles to find the confidence to speak. Brett grabbed Connor’s hand, helped him up onto his feet and pulled Connor close. For the first time in his life, Connor was not the silent one.
Connor watched the trees’ shadows stretch across the road as the evening sun struggled to stay above them. So far they had been driving on the same straight road for twenty minutes and hadn't seen another car, person, or animal. Both passengers stared straight ahead, anticipating the end of the dreary forest and the reveal of their new hometown. When they finally out-ran the woods, the sight they yearned for so desperately left them disappointed. Unveiled was a row of homes which bordered the road and featured partially boarded up windows, stained siding, and brown grass. Torn chain-link fencing separated the properties and blended into the already gray atmosphere. “At least it’s consistent,” Martha said sarcastically. A tear forced its way out of her eye and down her left cheek, hidden from her son sitting beside her. Memories flooded her mind of a time when she knew what it felt like to smile and laugh with her husband and family. Keep it together Martha, she told herself. “What do you think Connor?” she asked while forcing a grin. Her passenger focused on the somber landscape passing by and remained silent. She made a sharp right turn onto Lampman Avenue and followed the dirt road until she reached house number 461. The car jerked left and began to travel up a driveway dotted with potholes. The house was hidden behind a thick wall of intertwined, bare trees and was only visible after traveling the driveway for a good hundred metres. Its appearance was similar to that of the previously passed residences: gloomy, un-kept and sluggish. “I know it’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” she sighed, “but it’s what we could afford.” Once again, her son was silent. She put the car into park, reached over and ran her fingers through his thick, brown hair. Connor sat curled up in his seat, taking up only a fraction of the space any other thirteen year-old would have. He looked over at his mother and with an expressionless face told her “A house is a house”. Almost as abruptly as the arrival of his words, Connor jumped out of the vehicle and began to approach the weathered front door. Martha remained in the car, replaying the sound of her son’s voice over in her head, as she knew that she would most likely not hear it again soon.
“Your room is there on the left, Connor.” She pointed to a door that was once black but has turned to the colour of graphite thanks to a thick layer of dust. Connor turned the doorknob and cringed as it squealed to open. Martha grimaced in sympathy, knowing that the noise caused her son pain. He reluctantly entered the room. The room’s wallpaper curled off the walls, reaching for the dirt-covered ground. The hardwood floor creaked as he walked toward his bed. He cupped his hands to his ears. Inside his mind, a blender ran empty, but with each creak of the floor boards, a handful of coins was added. The sound it produced was sinfully ugly. Martha watched as he put his weight down cautiously onto the bed. He sat on the edge and looked up at the ceiling, praying for silence but knowing wholeheartedly that it would never come. Martha walked gently towards her son and kissed his forehead. “Tomorrow is your first day. Get some rest.” She forced her eyes shut in anger knowing that she had just told her son to do something that, for him, was impossible.
In the kitchen, Martha thought about Connor’s first day at his new school. She worried that no one would understand her autistic child’s daily struggle with harassing noises in his head, his resistance to communicate and his susceptibility to bullying. She knew that he could be set off by the smallest things. An electric pencil sharpener, being put on the spot to speak, chatter, a slamming door… anything and everything could send him spiraling into a public breakdown which would surely earn him the title of “spaz” or “freak-show”. She put down the phone and distracted herself with the trunk full of boxes awaiting her in the driveway.
Connor’s body jolted awake only three short hours after Martha tucked him in. His mind was running quicker than ever before as he anxiously thought about what the day had in store. I hate change, he thought to himself. His mind imitated the screeching brakes of a school bus arriving at the end of the driveway. The bus, filled with shouting children, lined with sweaty seats and filled with vile scents, was a rolling tube of misery. He thought of the schoolyard where children hunted and preyed on the strange kids. He knew he was defenseless against his enemies. He had refused to talk to his peers for the previous 8 years and didn’t plan on changing his ways now. Give them five minutes and they will pick me out, he thought to himself while looking at his reflection. His lanky legs took up well over half of the full body mirror. Rays of moonlight penetrated through the cracks of the blind, making his skin glow. I don’t even look normal, he thought as his eyes focused on his scrawny figure. His palms began to sweat as he imagined the pain he would feel as the cruel words leapt out from his predators’ mouths and latched onto his neck, teeth first.
Before he knew it, the miserable bus from his imagination was stopped at the end of his driveway, waiting for him to board. The bus was just as he expected it to be. Children were sprawled out on the seats and across the aisles shouting to their friends three rows away. Connor studied the bus for a few moments, searching for an empty seat away from the madness. Front seat will have to do, he told himself. When he sat down, the cushion wheezed out the smell of old lunch meat, adding to the accuracy of the bus he imagined hours before. “Good morning kid. You’re new to the area eh?” the bus driver smiled into the mirror above his head as he greeted Connor. “Nervous?” the voice asked after Connor stared blankly at him and did not reply. “I guess you’re not one for talking”, the driver said as he gave up trying to engage Connor in conversation. You don’t get it, Connor thought. Discouraged by his latest conversation, or lack thereof, he looked out his window and counted the houses in attempt to block out the children’s roaring voices and calm himself before arriving at the school.
The bus made a sharp right turn into the parking lot of the school. Letters that spelled out Esther Village Middle School struggled to hang onto the crumbling brown bricks they were drilled into. Connor remembered the beautiful red brick of his old school. He remembered the sound of bumblebees in the garden in front of the office and children laughing while playing on the jungle gym. Here he saw none of that. Instead of the brick being vibrant and red, it was dull and brown. Instead of a lush garden with bumblebees and flowers, there was a patch of dirt with weeds and spiders. Instead of children laughing there were teachers whistling. And instead of a jungle gym there was a group of half-dead oak trees in the far right corner of the yard.
“You must be Connor,” a voice said behind him. He turned around and was met by a woman much taller than himself. She wore a yellow dress that matched her golden blonde hair. She was holding a stack of books that made her wobble in her high heels.“I’m Ms. Tenya, and I’ll be your new teacher,” she said while smiling. Connor looked at her with an expressionless face but Ms. Tenya was not thrown off by his reaction at all. Instead, she led him into the classroom and showed him to his seat before any of the other students came in. The classroom was much smaller than the ones at his previous school. The walls were bare aside from a poster at the front of the class which read How to Make a Full Sentence. The desks were arranged in rows parallel with the dust-covered black board. Connor was placed right in the middle of the third row. His chair wobbled as he sat down. The desk, covered in scratches and rude drawings, barely fit over his knees. “Make yourself comfortable. The rest of the class will join us in a few minutes,” Ms. Tenya said while rustling through the brightly-coloured papers on her desk. As he waited, his mind once again imitated the cruel bullies he encountered at his old school. Just ignore them, he told himself, knowing that it would be his only defense against them.
The children piled into the class and took their seats without noticing the boy sitting in the middle of the room. Chattering filled the classroom until the teacher hushed them and began with her lesson. “Ok, class, let’s discuss what you read.” She was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Connor, startled by the abrupt noise, jumped in his seat. He turned his head and watched as the door opened. His eyes widened as he examined the massive figure standing in the doorway. “Good morning Brett,” Ms. Tenya smiled as she welcomed him into the class. The floor vibrated as Brett walked towards his seat at the back of the class. All the students watched him as he sat down. The seat squeaked, struggling to hold up his massive body. Connor turned around slowly, to avoid being noticed by his intimidating peer. “Who’s that?” Brett bellowed in Connor’s direction. “This is Connor, our new student,” Ms. Tenya responded to Brett. Connor did not dare to turn around and greet the man child sitting in the back row. “What a weirdo,” Brett responded when Connor did not move from his curled up position. The class tried to control their giggling, knowing that it would earn them a scolding from the teacher. Connor looked at the clock and felt his stomach sink when he realized it was almost time for recess.
The doors flung open as students poured out into the school yard. Connor was mixed in amongst the herd. He cupped his ears in attempt to block out the shrieks and shrills of excitement all around him. When he finally broke free of the pack he found himself at the far end of the yard amongst the trees he seen from the bus window. For some reason no other students went near the trees where Connor was standing. Instead, they stared at him with shocked looks on their faces. Am I standing on forbidden territory or something? he asked himself. Suddenly, a shadow surrounded Connor. As he turned, the children’s faces began to make sense. “What do you think you’re doing here weirdo?” Brett snarled at Connor. He put his hand on Connor’s shoulder and shoved him back, asking him once again “What are you doing here, spaz?” Connor’s silence only irritated Brett further. Another shove and insult followed. The hurtful names exploded out of Brett’s mouth and into Connor’s ears like a thousand angry wasps. The wasps swarmed Connor’s mind, creating a cacophony of buzzing that got louder and louder with every passing second. Brett extended his arms and used his brute force to push Connor back again. Connor stumbled backwards, tripping on an exposed root, and fell to the ground. His head hit the ground hard, causing the dirt to fly up into the air. Without warning, his mind was silent. For the first time in his life, Connor heard nothing other than his own thoughts. An overwhelming sense of peace and tranquility washed over his body, but didn’t stay for long. His eyes opened and saw his bully standing over him. Almost as suddenly as his fall, Connor began to shout. “Can’t you see that my life is hard enough?” he spat out at Brett. Brett’s expression changed instantly as he listened to Connor explain the daily obstacles he had to overcome as a result of his Autism. Brett listened as Connor explained the constant noise that harassed his mind and prevented him from experiencing any moments of peace and how he struggles to find the confidence to speak. Brett grabbed Connor’s hand, helped him up onto his feet and pulled Connor close. For the first time in his life, Connor was not the silent one.