Content Warning: This article discusses active shooter and lockdown scenarios, and includes strong language.
This morning, while I was organizing my son Noah’s school backpack, I found myself entangled in thoughts that sent chills down my spine. As I worked to free his medical dog tags from a clasp, I realized that in a lockdown situation, his teachers and aides know that his diabetes bag must stay with him. This bag is crucial; it contains candy, juice, extra insulin, a pump site, and emergency supplies like an EpiPen and glucagon. These items are essential for his safety.
As I untangled the dog tags, I felt a wave of anxiety. Noah had removed the silencers from them long ago, and their jingling could draw unwanted attention during a high-stress situation where silence is paramount. The thought of this made my heart race.
You might think the solution is simple—just get new silencers or remove the tags entirely. We plan to pick up new silencers soon, but Noah has always resisted wearing medical alert bracelets, which only identify him as having diabetes and not as being autistic. We initially opted for dog tags because he wouldn’t tolerate any of the bracelets we tried.
What really struck me this morning was the challenge of getting Noah to remain quiet and still during an emergency. He’s a child who thrives on movement—always skipping, running, jumping, and talking. How could I explain to a six-year-old the necessity for silence without instilling fear? It’s a daunting task.
I came across an insightful article featuring two special education professors who are also parents of children with special needs. They have developed an Individualized Emergency and Lockdown Plan (IELP) to complement the Individualized Education Plans (IEPs) for students with special needs. Their suggestions include outlining a student’s strengths and unique needs during a crisis.
While we did incorporate some medical aspects into Noah’s IEP last year, I hadn’t considered the autism side of things. You can bet I’ll be bringing this up at our next IEP meeting. Simple strategies like social stories and practice drills could be beneficial.
One of Noah’s strengths, which both comforts and terrifies me, is his lack of fear. He’s not afraid of the dark or the idea of hiding. However, loud alarms distress him. What if he heard gunshots? Would he freeze in shock or react in panic?
Communication is another hurdle. Noah has a rich vocabulary but struggles with following directions, often needing redirection. In an emergency, could he understand the instructions to hide? If framed as a game, he might enjoy it, but then again, he might giggle at what he thinks is fun.
From a sensory standpoint, he doesn’t typically chew on things, but he does have a security blanket at home that helps him self-soothe. Maybe I should consider a similar but smaller item for his bag? Parent-teacher conferences are on the horizon, and this topic deserves attention.
I reached out to his teacher to inquire about their safety drills. I’m thankful for the positive relationship we have; she’s worked wonders with Noah. She assured me they practice these drills regularly, keeping it simple by labeling them “safety” drills. Noah participates and follows directions, which is reassuring. I prefer his lack of awareness about the drills to him being anxious, as stress can worsen his diabetes.
In a related note, my four-year-old, Max, had a lockdown drill at his preschool this week. Can you believe it? FOUR YEARS OLD. After the tragic events at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, the staff felt compelled to prepare the kids. While I’m grateful for their vigilance, I worry about how Max will process this experience. He’s sensitive and aware of Noah’s medical challenges, often stepping in to protect his brother. How will I explain this to him?
Some days, I question my decision to bring children into a world filled with such chaos. Yet, I find solace in a Genesis song that resonates deeply with me: “This is the world we live in, and these are the hands we’re given. Use them and let’s start trying to make it a place worth living in.”
Change is necessary. I believe it will emerge from the passionate young people like those from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, who are making their voices heard. While I navigate how to keep my kids safe and explain the world around them, I’m hopeful for a future where these drills are a thing of the past.
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Summary:
This article explores the challenges faced by parents of children with autism during active shooter situations, focusing on the need for individualized safety plans. It highlights the importance of communication, understanding sensory needs, and the emotional impact on siblings. The author shares personal experiences and insights while emphasizing the necessity for change in how society addresses safety in schools.
Keyphrase: autism safety plans
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