I was a perfectly normal child until I began acting differently at age 3. Among many other things, I lost almost all of my ability to talk. By age 4, I was diagnosed with autism. The doctor who diagnosed me said many "nevers" about me ("Taylor will never do this, he'll never do that…."). He said language would always be a problem for me and that I would "withdraw" and never have any friends or meaningful social relationships. My parents didn't believe him; they thought that if I had language once I could probably have it again. They also felt that it was important for me to be around other kids my age to help me learn to be as social as possible, to "learn how to be a kid." They believed I could have friends. They believed I was capable of a lot more than that doctor thought I was.
Anyone who knows me and is reading this right now is probably surprised that someone once thought that I'd never have any friends.
My friendships are among the many wonderful things I've experienced while living in Cape Girardeau. Lots of people know about me and care about me, and frankly, looked out for me and helped me as I was growing up. I once heard a woman at an autism conference in another state ask my dad how things turned out so well for me as a child when Cape didn't have any of the resources and support that big cities have for kids with autism. He told her that much the reason things went so well for me was because I was from Cape Girardeau! People learned about me and wanted to help.
Here's an interesting example. When I was in the seventh grade, the mainstream English teacher discovered that I was really good at spelling. Every week, when it was time to work on spelling in her class, she'd have me come down from the special-needs classroom to take part in the spelling exercises. She said I was as good or better than anyone else in the class in spelling, and she wanted all the other kids to see that I had those capabilities. She did this on her own, because she wanted to. No one told her to do it. That's the kind of place Cape is.
The seventh grade was also the time people really started to notice that I was good in art and cartooning. One of my classmates, Lorie Bittle, wrote an article about my art skills for the school paper so everyone at Schultz School (remember Schultz School?) would learn about my capabilities in art. She did this on her own, because she wanted to. No one told her to do it. That's the kind of place Cape is.
When I was a preschooler, not long after the diagnosis of autism, I began language therapy with Dr. Carol Ludwig. She helped me learn to communicate better. It was a long process; I worked with Dr. Ludwig for 15 years, from 1986 until 2001! Another thing I did in those days involved working with occupational therapists to help with the sensory issues that came with my autism. The facility was then known as Southeast Physical and Occupational Therapy, or Pediatric SPOT. This was different from speech therapy though, because it was like a playground inside the SPOT building, whereas speech therapy was strictly sitting at a desk. I had occupational therapy for eight years, from 1992 to 2000. Both speech therapy and SPOT changed my life.
It turns out that even in my childhood, Cape had more resources and support than most people would think, but … that's the kind of place Cape is.
Throughout my school years, many, many teachers were very helpful to me. I hate to name names because I don't want to leave anyone out, so I'll just name one, a person who has moved away from Cape. Jana Rodgers, a teacher I had my final two years in high school, taught me how to apply and interview for a job and got me started on giving speeches to the teachers of autistic students so future generations of autistic students would have the opportunities I did. I want teachers to learn what worked for me because if they do, they can be just as effective as Jana was with me. I now travel around the country giving these presentations. I just returned from Alaska, where I gave 19 presentations about autism.
Remember the doctor who said I'd never have any friends? In the fifth grade I needed to be in the special-needs class most of the day and in the mainstream class part of each day. My dad, the special needs teachers and my mainstream teacher came up with a plan to take a few of the kids who were class leaders in that mainstream class and allow them to leave the room every now and then and work with me in the special class; this made the other students more interested in me. Students who might otherwise have teased me wouldn't risk the disapproval of those class leaders (who were now my friends) by picking on me. This helped protect me from being bullied and created lots of new friendships. Now, years after I finished school, I'm as eager to make new friends as ever.
Here's another reason Cape is such a great place to live: the university. I've always been interested in art. As I was growing up I had several art tutors, all art majors at SEMO, who helped me learn much more about art. One in particular, Leah Ulrich, began working with me more than 10 years ago, teaching me different painting techniques. I worked with her for an amazing eight years, from 2001 until 2009. In 2005 we began writing and illustrating a manuscript for a children's book about autism that isn't yet published. We finished working together when we completed the manuscript in 2009, and though we currently don't work with each other, I still hang out with her frequently. If our first book does well, we'll probably work together on many more.
The Good Samaritan Chronicles are a great addition to this newspaper because there are lots of stories about good Samaritans in Cape. In my situation, if you took all the people in this city who helped me in one way or another as I was growing up, the Show Me Center would be the only place big enough to hold them. That's how many people helped me. That's the kind of place Cape is.
Thank you, everyone.
Taylor Crowe is a Cape Girardeau resident and regularly contributes cartoons to the Southeast Missourian's opinion page.
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