During Large Child’s first term at school, I started hearing reports that he was “coping much better.” The tears had lessened, he was staying calm, and while he was still virtually mute, the feedback was sparkling.
The reality at home told a very different story.
Every day after school was a battle. The moment we got in the car, Large Child would start screaming, punching the windows, and kicking the seat in front of him. At home, it escalated—meltdowns over every little thing, destruction of toys, and even violence towards me. Basic tasks like eating, dressing, and communicating felt like insurmountable challenges. The stress in our household was unbearable, and it was clear to me that Large Child wasn’t coping at all.
He was masking.
The Invisible Struggle
Masking—an autistic child’s way of hiding their distress by conforming to the expectations around them—was wreaking havoc. Large Child was trying so hard to please his teachers and hold it together at school that his emotions would explode as soon as he was in his safe space at home.
I called a meeting with Mrs. Honey, hoping to bridge the gap between what they were seeing at school and what we were experiencing at home. She was surprised when I told her about the meltdowns, the screaming, and the sheer exhaustion he displayed daily.
From her perspective, things were improving. He wasn’t using his ear defenders as much, and he appeared settled. I explained that masking doesn’t mean coping—it means surviving. And the cost of survival was being paid at home.
Identifying the Problem Areas
Together, we began untangling the daily stressors. It became clear that Large Child wasn’t coping, but he also wasn’t able to express what was wrong. Here’s what we discovered:
- School Dinners
Large Child wasn’t eating. The food was unfamiliar, and the variety each day was overwhelming. We switched to a packed lunch with the same food every day, and suddenly, he started eating again. - Morning Transitions
Drop-offs were chaotic, and he found the immediate start of the school day overwhelming. We booked him into breakfast club, which provided a quieter, gentler start. This small change made a huge difference. - Sensory Needs
Staff assumed he would ask for his ear defenders or adjust to temperature changes, but Large Child simply couldn’t communicate these needs. I requested proactive support—offering ear defenders before assemblies, checking if he was too warm or cold, and reminding him to use the toilet.
The Impact of Advocacy
These were small adjustments—none of them required massive effort or drastic changes to the school’s routines. But the results were profound.
Large Child began to feel safer, and the constant state of panic that had consumed him started to subside. At school, Mrs. Honey noticed he was engaging more and beginning to communicate his needs. At home, the meltdowns started to ease, and we caught glimpses of the happy boy we knew.
This wasn’t about wrapping him in cotton wool or avoiding challenges—it was about creating an environment where he could thrive rather than survive.
The Bigger Picture
Autistic kids often mask their struggles, leading to the misconception that they’re coping. For caregivers and educators, this can be incredibly difficult to identify. It’s why communication between home and school is so vital.
I’ve learned that advocating for a child doesn’t make you overprotective or difficult. It means you’re ensuring their needs are met so they can succeed on their terms. And that benefits everyone—not just the child, but their classmates, teachers, and families too. Don’t be afraid to speak up and tell caregivers and educators what you need from them, they want to help your child succeed.
Sometimes, it’s the smallest accommodations that create the biggest transformations.
This was just the start of my journey of advocating for Large Child’s needs. It is a process that changes, but never stops. What accomodations have you found useful in your situation?
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