Born with autism, both Temple Grandin and Sean Barron now live famously successful social lives. However, their paths were quite different. Temple's logical mind controlled her social behavior. She interacted with many adults and other children, experiencing varied social situations. Logic informed her decision to obey social rules and avoid unpleasant consequences. Sean's emotions controlled his social behavior. Baf?ed by social rules, isolated and friendless, he made up his own and applied them to others. When they inevitably broke his rules, he felt worthless and unloved. Both Temple and Sean ultimately came to terms with the social world and found their places in it. Whether you are a person with autism, a caregiver in the autism community, or just someone interested in an outsider view of society, their powerful stories will enthrall and enlighten you. The first edition of Unwritten Rules of Social Engagement was the Silver Award Winner of the Book of the Year Awards and the original edition sold more than 40,000 copies in hard cover!
Gaining social awareness and social understanding is a never-ending journey for all of us who live in contact with others, whether or not we have ASD. Anyone who has browsed the self-help section of a bookstore, read an Ann Landers column, or stumbled onto any of the numerous “etiquette” websites that are now in existence knows what a big business the business of “fitting in” has become. It is no longer clearly defined as it was in the 1950s or ’60s. Yet, the desire to belong seems to be innate; to identify with other like-minded people drives us, motivates us. While people with ASD may exhibit this desire to a greater or lesser degree, I do believe they possess it.
As life has become more complex and our social values and morals have loosened, exceptions to the social rules that guide our existence have escalated to the point that it is virtually impossible for any one human being to be cognizant of them all. This idea should be regularly verbalized to people with ASD to alleviate some of the “all or nothing” anxiety they experience when it comes to learning the unwritten social rules. That said, there still exists the unwritten social expectation held by people we encounter, that we exhibit appropriate behaviors—even when we may have no idea of what constitutes “appropriate” anymore. Confusing? Yes. An excuse to put aside the effort it takes to function socially? No. It just means that our social learning never stops.
My exposure to the world of work started at a young age, at thirteen. My very first job was working for a seamstress, hemming dresses and taking garments apart. It was visual, tasks had a clear beginning and ending point, I wasn’t pressured and the environment was quiet. Social interaction was limited to small talk and polite conversation, which Mother had taught me. It was a good match for my skills and abilities at that point, and introduced me gradually to the world of work. I could make mistakes and it wouldn’t be all that big a deal. While in college, I worked as a summer intern at a research lab and at a school for children with autism and other developmental problems. These jobs taught me responsibility and instilled in me a good work ethic.
My first job out of college was working for the Arizona Ranchmen magazine, as a journalist. I worked there part-time for about seven years. Learning the job wasn’t difficult: I took notes during a meeting or interview, and wrote up a story. I read back issues of the magazine to get ideas on how to compose an article, what makes it interesting, etc. While it didn’t pay a lot, it was a good arena for learning many of the unwritten rules involved with working with other people. And, yes, I made a ton of mistakes. But people were genuinely willing to help me, and guided me along because they recognized my talents.
During this time I also worked for a year and a half for a construction company, designing equipment and handling their advertising. I was responsible for creating all their brochures and making sure articles on their equipment were published in other trade magazines. I became good at both these duties, but in the beginning, they had to really push me to do things. I remember my boss saying to me, “Temple, you pick up the telephone, call that magazine and you get that article in it about the Snake River Project.” Of course, I was scared to call up these magazines and made mistakes at first, but I was creative and learned pretty quickly how to do the job.
One of the things I’m realizing today is that very early on, I figured out that certain people could open the door to other job opportunities. And that door led to another, and another, and another. Many people with ASD never seem to grasp this idea; they see only one door if they see any at all. I also realized that I needed to “start at the bottom and work up.” That meant doing the things that were delegated to me, even the things I didn’t really feel that charged up about doing. Professional respect develops over time and people have to prove themselves in their profession. I quickly learned that I wouldn’t keep a job for very long if I refused to do work, or argued with my boss or co-workers over assignments. And for me, keeping my job and doing my best were very strong personal motivators.
Over time I became very good at writing articles and was respected in the field for that. While covering cattle and ranch-related meetings, I’d introduce myself to editors of different magazines and offer to send them articles on research I’d done. I quickly figured out the business-card hunting game and ways that could help get my name around in the field. I started doing a little bit of design work on a freelance basis, and put together a portfolio of my work to show prospective clients. Little by little I built a solid reputation in the field and became more well-known and successful designing livestock systems. It certainly didn’t happen overnight.
After I had successfully worked for the magazine for several years, it was sold and I found myself with a new boss. He thought I was weird and was going to fire me. My friend, Susan, the graphic designer at the job, and I made a portfolio of all my articles. The new boss not only didn’t fire me, he gave me a raise after he saw the quality of work I had produced on the job.
I cannot emphasize enough the importance of finding and then developing a talent area in children with ASD that can be turned into a viable profession such as drafting, commercial art, custom cabinetwork, fixing cars or computer programming. These efforts provide an opportunity for a person to have an intellectually satisfying career. My life would not be worth living if I did not have intellectually satisfying work. My career is my life. Sometimes professionals working with people with autism become so concerned about the person’s social life that developing intellectually satisfying employment skills is neglected.
