Abstract:
This article discusses the anxiety and challenges of keeping a child with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) safe in the event of an active shooter situation, highlighting practical strategies and resources to support parents.
As I prepared my son Max’s backpack for school, I found myself in a terrifying moment of reflection. I had to untangle his identification tags from the clasp they were caught on. In a lockdown scenario, all of Max’s educators and support staff are aware that his diabetes kit must remain with him. This kit contains essential items such as juice and candy to manage his blood sugar levels, along with extra insulin and medical supplies for emergencies. However, the jingling sound of his dog tags, which he had previously removed the silencers from, struck me as a potential danger. In a situation where silence is crucial, this noise could unwittingly put him at risk during an active shooter incident.
You might think the solution would be straightforward—replace the silencers or remove the tags entirely. While I plan to acquire new silencers, I also swapped out the noisy tags for a medical alert bracelet. Max, however, has been resistant to wearing bracelets, leading us to initially opt for the dog tags. The bracelets we’ve tried in various materials and styles have been unsuitable for him, and they only identify his diabetes, lacking any mention of his autism.
What truly unsettled me was the realization that Max often struggles to remain quiet. If instructed to go to a safe location, he would comply, as he recognizes his school staff and trusts them. But if he finds himself in a situation that demands prolonged silence, how could I teach him to adapt? Max is an active child who thrives on movement, often skipping, running, and chattering incessantly. He rarely sits still, so the thought of getting him to stay quiet and calm is daunting.
As I pondered these challenges, I recalled an interview with two special education professors who are also parents of children with special needs. They discussed their development of an Individualized Emergency and Lockdown Plan (IELP) designed to complement Individualized Education Programs (IEPs). Their plan emphasizes identifying a child’s strengths and specific needs during an emergency, including medical and sensory considerations. While we’ve included some of these aspects in Max’s IEP, I hadn’t previously considered the unique challenges his autism presents. I intend to raise these points at our next IEP meeting, especially their recommendations for using social stories and practice drills.
Interestingly, one of Max’s strengths is his lack of fear. This can be alarming, as it may lead him to engage in reckless behavior. He appears unaffected by darkness or the need to hide, but I worry how he would respond to alarming sounds, such as gunfire. Would he be frozen in fear, or would he react vocally, as he sometimes does when he finds noise bothersome?
Communication is another potential hurdle. Although Max is verbal and has a vast vocabulary, he often struggles with focus and can get lost in scripting, a form of echolalia. In a crisis, would he be able to follow instructions to find safety? If it were framed as a game, he might enjoy the idea, but could he misinterpret the seriousness of the situation?
From a sensory perspective, Max typically doesn’t chew on items, though he occasionally nibbles his shirt. He does find comfort in a security blanket at home. Considering a smaller version of this for his school bag may be beneficial. I plan to discuss this further during the upcoming parent-teacher conference.
To further understand how the school prepares for emergencies, I reached out to his teacher. I am fortunate to have established a positive relationship with her, and she confirmed that they conduct “safety” drills regularly. She assured me that Max participates and follows directions without displaying negative reactions. Given that he hasn’t mentioned these drills, I am relieved to believe he is unconcerned about them, which I’ll take as a positive sign. It’s preferable for him to remain unaware of the reasons behind the drills, as anxiety can worsen his diabetes.
In the backdrop of these concerns, my younger son Leo, who is only four, recently participated in an active shooter drill at his preschool. This is particularly alarming given his age and the recent tragic events in schools. While I appreciate the school’s efforts to protect its students, I’m left wondering how Leo will process this experience. He is sensitive and already shows signs of anxiety. Since he’s aware of Max’s medical challenges, I worry about how to explain the necessity of such drills to him without causing undue fear.
There are moments when I question the decision to bring children into this chaotic world. Yet, I reflect on the lyrics of a Genesis song, Land of Confusion, which resonates with my desire for change. I believe that proactive, tech-savvy youth, like those advocating for reform after the Parkland tragedy, will be the catalyst for the transformation we desperately need.
As I navigate the complexities of ensuring my children’s safety and explaining the realities of the world, I hold onto hope for a future where such drills will no longer be necessary.
In conclusion, ensuring the safety of children, especially those with special needs, during emergencies like active shooter situations requires thoughtful consideration and proactive planning. Engaging educators and utilizing individualized plans can help address both medical and developmental needs, making it crucial for parents to advocate for their children.
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