Excerpt from Understanding the Challenge of "No" for Children with Autism (McNeil): The Story of Cory (Introduction)

The following excerpt comes from the introduction to the book, Understanding the Challenge of "No" for Children with Autism by Colette McNeil, long-time special needs teacher and aunt to a child with autism.

Corey

Giggling so hard he almost loses his balance, on tippy-toes, bouncing foot to foot, arms swaying in the air, 3-year-old Corey celebrates with joy as he watches Alice approach.  

“Uh Oh! Corey thinks this is a game. I probably shouldn’t have been so playful.” 

Alice has removed Corey from the tabletop three times in the last three minutes.  Each time keeping the interaction light, she spiritedly engaged, “Oh no, no, no, little man.  We don’t stand on tables. Get down.” He was then scooped up in a hug, spun away from the table and gently placed with his feet on the floor. 

Now, standing next to the table, Alice speaks in a more subdued, neutral tone, “No, get down.” 

Corey gleefully throws his hands up and rests his body against hers. Alice makes an effort to lower Corey down to the ground calmly, without the excitable performance of earlier exchanges. Over the next few minutes, Corey and Alice repeat this cycle several more times. Alice hopes that delivering a passive response will counteract the silliness of before and dissuade Corey from continuing his game. Unfortunately, Corey persists in his cheerful pursuit.

In an effort to alleviate the temptation to climb, Alice walks Corey away from the enticing table and sets him on a beanbag chair to look at a book. Hopeful that he is content, Alice leaves Corey to play independently. 

Jumping to his feet, Corey runs across the room, scales the chair and is quickly upon the table. Standing tall on his toes, pressing his chin into his hands, Corey keeps intensely watchful eyes on Alice. 

Across the room, leaning forward, hands on her hips, Alice uses a reprimanding tone, “NO Corey.” 

Corey stands silent in anticipation. 

Alice firmly directs, “NO—Get down!” 

Letting out a high-pitched squeal, Corey explodes into jubilation and prances about the table. 

Stifling a chuckle, Alice stares at Corey, perplexed by the contradiction between her reprimand and Corey’s unabashed exuberance. Realizing that Corey has misunderstood her words and seems unaffected by her change in tone and body language, Alice reflectively queries, what now? Making further effort to project a firm demeanor, Alice moves closer, repeating slowly, “NO—Get down.” 

Instantly, Corey flashes a Cheshire cat grin and beckons to be lifted.

Dismayed, Alice realizes, Corey doesn’t understand my, “No,” and thinks the phrase, “Get Down,” means I am going to pick him up.

Pondering her next action, Alice gives Corey a hug but does not move him to the floor. Racking her brain for a better way to build understanding, she contemplates, What do I want him to do when I say, “Get down?” Ideally, I want him to climb down by himself. Pointing to the chair, Alice gently pulls his little hand downward and tells Corey to get down. Corey thrusts himself upwards and prepares to be lifted. 

Well, that didn’t work. Pensively, Alice watches Corey dance upon the table while continuing to ruminate on the problem. I don’t want to lift him off the table. What specifically do I want Corey to do? I do not want him to jump off or have him try to walk off by stepping on the chair. No, I want him to crawl down in a controlled manner on his own. So, how do I get him to climb down? He doesn’t understand my words, body language or gestures. I am going to have to motor him through it. He will be confused and could get upset. I need to be ready to keep him from falling if he throws a tantrum. 

With her plan in place, Alice begins, “Corey, get down.” 

Corey reaches up but is stopped from delivering his hug.

“No.” Turning Corey around, “Get down,” Alice assists him to his hands and knees, aids him to lower his legs to the chair, repositions his hands and continues until he is stably planted below.

Standing on the surface, Corey gives Alice a quizzical look and immediately ascends the table. 

Recognizing the need to practice this new directive, Alice allows Corey to climb unimpeded. Once Corey is standing, Alice repeats, “Get down.” 

Corey throws his hands up and smiles broadly.

“No,” Alice again turns Corey around and assists him in his descent, repeating, “Get down.”

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Corey determinedly jets from Alice’s grasp and quickly scrambles aloft once more. 

Alice waits for Corey to be upright atop the table before delivering her instruction, “Get down.” 

Corey predictively extends his arms toward Alice.    

“No.”

When his embrace is blocked, Corey cries out in exasperation. As Alice prompts Corey to turn his body, he begins weeping and pulls away from her. Corey independently crawls down to the floor, runs to the beanbag chair and pouts.

Understanding his frustration, Alice engages Corey positively, praising him for sitting on the beanbag chair and showing him a book. Corey remains upset with Alice and turns away from her. While sitting with Corey, Alice compassionately resolves, I must be more careful in the future. I thought I was being sweet while flirtatiously redirecting him with my gentle, “no, no, no,” but what I really did was confuse him. I will work on being clearer in pairing my words and actions. It’s not fair to confound Corey by being playful then expect compliance on an instruction he doesn’t understand.