What is it like raising a child in a world that tells a fish to climb a tree?
2026-10-07
My daughter could read a book by the age of two. She could read my books by the age of four. That’s when I realised I should probably hide the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy… I just wasn’t ready to talk about the joys of BDSM with my four-year-old.
She has solved 100-piece puzzles. She knows her multiplication tables off by heart. But there is one thing she can’t do just yet:
Talk.
My daughter has been to four schools in six years, from mainstream to specialised, and they all ask the same question:
“But can she talk?”
No. And she probably won’t for a long time.
But her brain is working just like ours — or, rather, just like mine.
Her fundamentals aren’t addition and subtraction; they are multiplication and division. She can form complex sentences using communication cards, but she is unable to utter a word when asked.
The question then becomes: do we accept the difference and embrace it as a society, or do we push people to the fringes until they learn to act like everyone else?
I refuse to tell my daughter that the fish needs to climb the tree.
Instead, I increase the number of puzzles I give her. I give her harder multiplication tables. And I slowly walk her through the things that are difficult for her.
1 + 1 = 2.
My point isn’t that my daughter is a genius. No, I am simply a biased mother on that one.
My point is that we do not tolerate people who learn differently in our education system.
But what actually is autism?
Autism, or autism spectrum disorder (ASD), is a neurodevelopmental condition associated with differences in social communication and interaction, alongside restricted or repetitive behaviours, interests or activities. It is called a spectrum because autistic people can have very different combinations and degrees of traits and support needs.
And this is where things become complicated.
A medical diagnosis is science, which means our understanding changes as more evidence becomes available. We still have a lot to learn about autism.
The word spectrum can sometimes make it sound as though there is a single line, with “a little autistic” at one end and “very autistic” at the other. In reality, it is much more complicated than that.
We are grouping an enormous variety of people under one diagnostic umbrella because they meet a particular set of criteria. But knowing that someone is autistic doesn’t necessarily tell you very much about that individual person.
My daughter, for example, has very little in common with someone whose primary difficulties are related to ADHD or dyslexia. She also has apraxia, which affects her ability to plan and produce speech.
So when someone simply says, “She’s on the spectrum,” that tells you something — but not necessarily the thing you most need to know.
It tells you that she is autistic. It does not tell you how she thinks, how she learns, how she communicates, what she is capable of, what she struggles with, or what support will actually help her.
Even the science behind these conditions is still developing. Autism has a strong genetic component, but there isn’t a single “autism gene.” Researchers are still trying to understand the complex combination of genetic and developmental factors involved.
And while autism and ADHD can occur together, they are not the same condition. Neither does having ADHD in a family automatically explain why one child is autistic.
There is simply so much we don’t know yet.
Which is why I think we need to learn through observation rather than judgement.
Instead of looking at my daughter and asking, “Why can’t she do what everyone else can do?”, I want to ask:
“What can she do? How does she learn? How does she communicate? What is difficult for her, and what makes it easier?”
If she can’t communicate verbally, let’s find another way for her to communicate.
If she can solve increasingly difficult puzzles, let’s give her harder puzzles.
If multiplication makes sense to her before basic addition does, let’s work with that rather than insisting that she learn in the order we expect.
Do we allow for speech delays? Do we encourage people who communicate differently to communicate in the ways that work for them?
In my experience, it isn’t the children who ostracise those who are different. It is often the adults who care for them.
Exclusion is learned.
As a society, we should do better at including people from all walks of life — whether they are disabled, poor, or simply different from what we consider “normal.”
Difference is what allows for collaboration. And collaboration is what breeds truly great solutions.
Maybe the question shouldn’t be:
“How do we make her fit into our world?”
Maybe we should be asking:
“How do we build a world where she doesn’t have to?”
