Mom of Kickapoo teen with autism pleads for kindness in Facebook post

Cara Thulin knew she couldn't send her freshman son off to Kickapoo High School with a sign that read: "I'm autistic, please cut me some slack."

Instead, the Springfield mom did what she hoped was the next best thing: She made her case on Facebook.

In an Aug. 24 social media post — an open letter to Kickapoo students, parents and teachers — she attached a photo of her son Damien "Zeke" Gibson's school ID and a plea: "This boy is in your ranks now. And I need you all to help me."

"If you see this kid, say 'Hi, Zeke' and don't get offended if he doesn't respond. He heard you," Thulin wrote. "And he feels a little more confident now that someone knows his name."

She suggested complimenting his "Panic! At The Disco" band t-shirts, asking if he's OK, if he likes class and if he has any questions.

"He may answer you. He may stare at the floor. He may run away. But, he'll know that you care," she wrote. "And I promise you, that will help him feel better than he feels when people laugh at him. Because he does notice when people laugh at him, he just doesn't know why."

The post has been liked 3,100 times, shared nearly 2,100 times and received hundreds of positive comments. Thulin admitted she was overwhelmed by the outpouring of support for her 14-year-old.

"I love to explain Zeke, as best I can, to anyone who will listen. I find him and his brain completely fascinating," she said. "I feel like once they get to know him, they will want to know more. They will love him and see how cool he is."

Other parents who have children with special needs responded emotionally to the post. They shared their experiences, offered encouragement and explained it was natural for a mom to want to protect a child.

"I can't believe that got shared so fast and as far as it did," she said. "I had someone in Las Vegas reaching out to me yesterday. It was nuts."

In the post, she acknowledged that Zeke was likely to stand out. "He runs to class. He doesn't know his graduation year. He gets really confused in busy hallways."

Thulin, a 1999 Kickapoo graduate, said the most reassuring reaction was from the high school community.

"I have several teachers and friends with kids at the school," she said. "I figured if they could see his face and know his story, he'd maybe gain an ally or two.

"But then it just sort of took off."

In the post, Thulin said she was raising a "very strong kid" and asked others to be kind and give him a chance.

A Kickapoo mom shared the request with her freshman daughter, who replied "I am on it." Teachers responded that they'd watch for the teen. Classmates vowed to say hello to him at lunch and make sure he didn't have to sit alone.

Adjusting to a 'big place'

At home Tuesday evening near Jeffries Elementary, Zeke said the start of high school was a little scary.

"It's a big place, hard to get around," he said.

Prior to the first day, Zeke and his mom toured Kickapoo. They walked through his class schedule, in sequence, several times. They met his teachers.

He has four classes this fall including math, science, English and a construction or shop class, which is an early favorite.

"At the moment, we are building picnic tables," he said.

On the couch next to his mom, Zeke avoided eye contact and looked up at the ceiling. He answered questions — despite appearances, he was listening — while snuggling with his hound dog, Stogie, and a kitten named Stella.

"They are excellent therapy for him," she said. "He gets really attached."

Thulin said she worries his mannerisms may seem disrespectful and off-putting to his teachers and others.

"I can't walk around with a sign that says 'This is Zeke, he can be a little weird. Please, be gentle with him,'" she said. "I figure if they understand, they will be easier on him."

Asked what he thought of the Facebook post, Zeke rolled his eyes. "Embarrassing," he said.

Thulin laughed, tousled his hair and said she expected that reaction from a teenage boy. He became more animated, however, when the conversation turned to his interests, drawing and video games.

After giving a tour of his room, he started to play Fallout 4 and explained, in detail, the video game's post-apocalyptic plot and main character.

"He is the narrator. That's what we call him," Thulin said. "He does that with movies, too, that he has seen."

Zeke said when he grows up, he wants to design video games for a living.

Asking for help

When Zeke was a baby, Thulin enrolled in the Parents As Teachers program. It provided free screenings and information about age-appropriate developmental activities for her to do with her firstborn.

She said it was a parent-educator from the program, making a home visit, who first suggested Thulin take Zeke for testing.

He qualified for early childhood special education services, including speech therapy. He was later diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome, commonly considered "high functioning" on the autism spectrum.

The diagnosis meant Thulin, teachers, support staff and others would work together to develop an Individualized Education Program, or IEP, to maximize school for Zeke. The personalized approach helped, Thulin said.

In Springfield Public Schools, 11 percent of students in kindergarten through grade 12 have a disability or special needs that prompted an IEP. Last year, nearly 200 students in the district were on the autism spectrum.

Phyllis Wolfram, executive director of special programs, said what works for one student on the spectrum may not work for another. "What we know about children with autism is that they are unique and individual."

She said there has been a "significant increase" in the number of students with autism in recent years. This year, as a result, two part-time autism consultants employed by the district were hired full-time.

Wolfram described Thulin's post as heartwarming. "It takes some courage on behalf of a parent to talk about what works for their children."

She said she applauds parents who advocate for their children, adding that it increases awareness.

"It does a number of wonderful things. It broadens their understanding of others who are different," she said.

Thulin said middle school was difficult for her son and she worried about his transition to an 1,800-student high school.

She said there are instructional signs she can post in her car and in her home to alert emergency crews that an individual with autism might be there.

"He has a card for his wallet with the same information," she said. "There are signs for those things, for emergencies, but not for everyday life."

In the post, she explained her son spends more time focused on sounds, lights, textures and smells. He also struggles to recognize social cues.

"While we were growing and paying attention to other babies and learning how to behave and react, he was paying attention to the way the sun hit his mom's earrings or how loud the dog was," she said. "And he missed out on all that social training we didn't even realize we were getting."

She said explaining what works for her son is part of her role as a parent.

"I didn't realize how much I would have to advocate," she said. "I just realized I had to ask for help."