In April, during a visit to the orthodontist, my son Max casually mentioned, “The prom is in May.” I was focused on merging onto the highway, trying not to jump to any conclusions. “Mrs. Parker thinks she knows who I should go with,” he continued. Max, who is seventeen and on the Autism Spectrum, rarely brought up social events like prom. My curiosity was piqued. “Who?”
“Lily and Mia,” he replied, referencing two classmates I knew to be neurotypical. I wondered how he had even thought about going to prom, let alone noticed the social dynamics around him.
As it turned out, Lily had a boyfriend and Mia already had a date, but they agreed to dance with Max. Mrs. Parker, his one-on-one aide, even offered to attend to take pictures and keep an eye on him. I thought, great! Everything seemed to be coming together. But, just a week before the event, Mrs. Parker informed us she might not be able to make it after all, throwing us into a panic.
The prom was scheduled at a familiar venue, where events like weddings and other proms frequently took place. Dinner was set for 6 p.m. to 7:30 p.m., followed by a dance session. Leading up to the event, I texted Mrs. Parker frantically, asking questions like whether Max should arrive at the start and if Lily and Mia would save him a seat. I couldn’t help but worry about the social dynamics, especially since they would be with their dates.
Then, one of Max’s teachers reached out with a new concern: who would supervise him at the prom? “Why would he need supervision?” I asked in disbelief. “Does every kid at prom bring a chaperone?” My husband chimed in, “He has a disability; he needs help!” I responded, “Help with what? He just wants to dance and sip soda.”
Tensions rose as we debated why Max always seemed to be underestimated. Someone even suggested I chaperone, which I flatly refused. While I thought it would be fun, I knew Max would want to experience prom like any other high school student. Mrs. Parker assured me that other students would keep an eye on him, saying, “They all look out for him.”
Ultimately, we agreed that I would wait in the parking lot. After all, I figured he wouldn’t last long. I brought a book, anticipating a thirty-minute outing.
“Have fun, buddy,” I said as he hopped out of the car, dressed in dress pants and a button-down shirt—an outfit that was far from his usual comfort zone of elastic-waist pants. I could hear the music blaring from the venue as I settled in with my book. I read a chapter, then another, but time seemed to stretch. Had it really been forty-five minutes already?
Finally, after nearly two hours, Max bounded out of the building, exclaiming, “I danced with Lily and Mia!” He sounded elated, adding, “I didn’t even recognize them at first; they looked like princesses.” His awe was palpable.
“They looked pretty?” I asked.
“Yeah! That’s why I have a ‘crush’ on them,” he replied, making air quotes. “I like good times.” His excitement was contagious as he recounted his night. Max had felt included, just like any other teenager, and it filled me with pride.
Never underestimate what a child with autism is capable of; they can surprise you in the best ways.
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Summary
The experience of prom for my son Max was a moment of triumph and joy, showcasing his ability to engage socially and enjoy a traditional high school event. His excitement and pride highlighted the importance of inclusion and understanding for children on the Autism Spectrum.
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