Genius Syndrome

Let me take the time to introduce you to one of my passions, and tell you the story of how it all came about. 

I only volunteered at the camp for autistic kids because my new 12 year-old step-brother, whom I was just getting to know, was signed up as a camper but was petrified to attend.  Without much thought, I told him, “I’ll come with you and be a counselor and you will at least know me.”  That seemed to assuage his fears and soon I was signed up, trained, and reporting for duty.

While waiting for my camper to arrive the first day, a young boy approached the cabin, oblivious to his surroundings, mesmerized by the watch around his thin wrist. I tried to capture his attention with a smile and a cheerful, “Welcome to Camp,” but he didn’t even look up. Once all of the children arrived, we were paired up with our camper. The boy with the watch, Sam, was assigned to me and I became his guardian for the week. Over the next few hours I grew concerned because I was unable to connect with Sam and he hadn’t spoken a single word to me. However, on the afternoon hike, Sam’s high-pitched voice belted, “KACI! THERE IS A BUG!!! HELP ME!” This exclamation proved a few things to me:

1. Sam had been paying attention to me as I made one-sided conversation with him throughout the day.

2. Sam realized that I was there to protect and care for him.

3. Sam and I both have an extreme fear of bugs.

Both paralyzed with fear, we clung tightly to one another, shrieking like little girls until the  GIANT cockroach scurried by. From that moment on we connected and he fully trusted me with all of his needs.

 Exactly at 12:00 each day he announced, “Kaaaccciii it is twelve o’clock. That means it is time for lunch. We should be going right now”.  He heralded every activity we were assigned each day with similar punctuality, courtesy of his sacred watch.  After supper each night, Sam would race back to the cabin in order to be the first one in the shower.  To my surprise, on that first night he poked his head out of the bathroom door and called, “Kaaaccciii I need you to hold my watch for me. I cannot get it wet. Please, please, please do not lose it.” Dutifully, my eyes never came off of that watch either. It was my responsibility to look after him, which means I had to look after his mysterious, extraordinary, beeping watch.

            Sam has Asperger’s Syndrome, which. falls under the autism spectrum and is commonly known as “genius syndrome.” Sam made me believe just that. Aside from being able to tell time, he could speak Spanish, Latin, and some French. He can play the piano like a little Mozart and his air guitar skills are impeccable.

Sam taught me a lot that summer, like how to lock a bathroom door from the opposite side and how to have correct posture while riding a horse. More importantly, though, Sam demonstrated the joy in being unapologetically authentic, embracing the gifts he was born with, without regard to social expectations of how he should act, dress or speak.  I now understand what Albert Einstein meant by, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” Strangers may meet Sam and be put off, but now I endeavor to be more like him. Because of him, I don’t judge a person by how closely they fit into our media-driven concept of “normal”.  I recognize that everyone, regardless of IQ or social skills, has unique talents worth celebrating.  His lessons from that week will change how I interact with people for the rest of my life. And I owe my thanks to a nine-year-old boy and his mysterious, extraordinary, beeping watch. 

Thanks to Sam and all of the wonderful, different, outgoing, loud, dramatic, fabulous kids at camp (who could occasionally lose their temper a time or two), I was able to have a first hand look at how everyone in the world has a true purpose and unique attributes that fulfill their purpose. I realized that most people spend their time trying to fit into a role they perceive to be correct all while losing  their identity in the process. The most important lesson I learned from these children is to see the world through nonjudgmental, caring eyes. No child at camp saw you by what you were wearing or what you looked like, they saw your actions and your spirit. My Passion is to stand up for the acceptance of mentally handicapped people and work with others to help them understand their differences and needs. 

*names were changed for the protection and privacy of campers