We expend a great deal of effort to make kids normal in school. We have all sorts of interventions to help students with learning and intellectual disabilities live a “normal” life. The show Atypical should make us reconsider how we view autism. Most of the time, we think “how can we help autistic kids become more like us.” The question the show raises, is “in what ways should we become more like them?”
The show focuses on a high school senior named Sam as he navigates school, work, and family drama with autism. His autism imposes some limits–it makes it hard for him to be in crowded environments or unfamiliar settings–but he is able to function well. He holds down a job from which it looks like he’s managed to save every cent he’s ever earned. He maintains a close friendship with a co-worker and is a loving sibling. He has a talent for art and gets accepted to a scientific illustration program. Most parents, I’m sure, would be proud to have a son like him.
His biggest problem is that he struggles to lie. It is wrong to lie, simple as that. Living by this clear moral vision makes it hard for him to engage in the white lies almost everyone else does. He’s so bad at lying in fact, that he asks his mom to help him. Knowing that she cheated on his dad, he figured she was an expert at lying and tells her so to her face. It is the sort of truth that perhaps only someone lacking in social graces would tell, and one that she probably needed to hear.
So he convinces his coworker and friend Zahid to teach him the “pants on fire” lying technique to hilarious effect. It’s a simple three step process: first offer the person being lied to praise, second, respond to every question with “obviously,” and third, flee the scene. Sam manages to successfully lie, but not without experiencing great discomfort–the sort of discomfort the rest of society would be well-served to feel before lying.
We manage to give kids mixed messages about truth telling. We extol the virtues of honesty and then expect kids to tell others that they look nice in that ugly outfit, or that they enjoyed someone’s cooking even though it’s terrible. Perhaps these white lies are necessary to keep the peace. We would all get upset really quickly if everyone confronted us with their every thought. Perhaps they help us keep relationships and self-esteem intact.
But even these noble goals don’t provide clarity about when to tell the truth. You could justify all manner of lies by telling yourself you’re doing it for other people. Sam’s autism doesn’t allow him to go down that slippery slope. For him, truth is truth and should never be obscured. Right is right and wrong is wrong. These are simple insights, but ones we fail to realize all the time.