When my son with autism and dyspraxia was 14 years of age, I had to take what felt like a life-changing decision for him. And as any parent with a neurodivergent child can understand, the weight of such an important choice felt like the biggest weight on my not-so-broad shoulders.
As autism occurs on a spectrum, which in fact many people might find themselves on in reality, I'll briefly explain the severity of my son's disability.
If you were to meet him you'd probably come away thinking he's a lovely, friendly chap and very tall. The fact that he is sociable surprises people when they discover he's autistic, as we're used to believing that people with autism shy away from social situations.
My son, however, loves nothing more than to be surrounded by people, especially extended family and friends. His difficulties come with hyper anxiety that is more pronounced in certain situations.
When he's out in the big wide world this is especially the case. If he were to take the subway, he'll be standing rigid and won't listen to music so he's ready for any eventuality. He is also extremely anxious when people don't follow the rules -- there's no way he'll cross the road if the walk signal is flashing red. And worse still, if people cheat during a soccer game it could lead to floods and floods of tears. He therefore has few friends his own age but is great with younger kids.
He also has physical reactions to certain materials and the majority of food, seeking comfort in softness and familiarity.
If you couple this with his dyspraxia -- a coordination disorder that made his education exceedingly painful and anxiety-ridden -- the typical educational path seemed way too daunting and demoralizing for him.
A difficult decision
Therefore I took the decision to help him choose a path that would focus on what he does best: baking. Thankfully, living in France, he could have the possibility to develop a fulfilling, and rewarding career, while also bringing home endless croissants for the family!
At the tender age of 14 my son had abandoned the traditional French educational path, where math and grammar are held in high regard. Instead, I signed him up for a Catholic professional lycée where he would focus on baking, while learning the skills of the trade in bakeries a few months a year.
Initially he was delighted to drop the hardcore academics. Math and the other usual subjects were taught in relation to his future career. It all made sense to him. He then found his way into the school's industrial kitchen and got to roll up his sleeves and get baking.
At the end of the first year, he was producing fine baguettes; by the end of the second year, he was acing his croissants. And since this was a Catholic school, he was also helping to deliver baked goods to churches, and even to Notre Dame Cathedral for an event. This was probably the first time in his life that he felt that he was of value.
I can see he's thriving and happy. He's made friends and is actually the official companion of a fellow student who is 90% blind. He makes sure he gets to wherever he needs to be, and feels very worthwhile doing his duty.
A promising future?
Fast approaching 17, my son has finished his initial training. He'll now return to a slightly more academic education as he continues to study to become a top baker. This is something I'd never imagine could happen.
The whole process has been exhausting. I've tried to focus on building him up, giving him more security and confidence with the unknown. This has involved preempting everything, teaching him what to do with the different scenarios he may have to face, while encouraging him to become independent.
But the reason I wanted to share my son's journey is that I hope it may inspire other parents dealing with children who don't fit the mold. It is a path that can sometimes leave you in tears, uncertainty, and doubt. After all, you're making decisions for a loved one that can radically alter their lives.
However, if I were to give any advice it would be to listen to your instincts, listen to your child, and try to see what really makes them smile. If you can lean into that then you'll find the right path, though perhaps with a bump or two in the road.
