On Always Always Always Learning

White teen boy with short brown hair wearing a baseball cap, seen from behind, sitting on a wooden park bench overlooking the San Francisco Bay.
We are also Always, Always, Always Hiking.
[image: White teen boy with short brown hair wearing a baseball cap, seen from
behind, sitting on a wooden park bench overlooking the San Francisco Bay.]

My partially–speaking autistic son recently learned to say "excuse me" after he farts. 

This is important for many reasons. We are a gassy crew, and we fart a lot, so this is a good skill for all of us to have. But it's also important from the perspective of having confidence in him, in that he is always learning, and that we need to keep encouraging him to do so. 

Like many autistic people, my son requires often requires a lot of practice before acquiring a new skill. Not always, but often. We practiced the post-explosive apology for weeks before it stuck—though, like his siblings and mother, he still requires the occasional reminder about best flatulence practices. 

He's 19. He's nearing the age at which high-support disabled people like him are often approaching the transition from structured school environments into the great unsupported unknown of adulthood. I worry that for many parents, this transition is accompanied by a tendency to abandon learning now that our offspring are "grown." Or settling into doing things for our kids, because it's easier—things like toweling off after bathing when they can do it with support, guidance and/or patience—but it takes less time when we do it for them. 

But, we also know from autistic people who are able to self-report that they continue to acquire skills throughout their lives, more so than their non-autistic peers. So I am always encouraging the learning. Sometimes this means me talking about everything he and I see as we go on our many many local socially-distanced hikes, sometimes this means reading books about interesting things, sometimes this means having podcasts playing as we drive—when he's interested in them, that is; another recently taught skill is his ability to navigate the bluetooth enabled car stereo system, and like many teen boys, our hero has decided musical preferences. 

Whether he demonstrates to me that he has learned is less important to me than providing opportunities for him to learn, in ways that he's amenable to. Though when he does demonstrate learning—usually through an offhanded comment, or "suddenly" deciding to act on a skill he's been practicing, I am always glad for him, because he's usually glad for himself.

And also, we are all always learning, aren't we? (Right? Or am I being naive yet again?) I am obsessive with the podcasts, though I get irritated when they get banter-y or chatty because I want the information please. I try my best to listen to disability advocates who are destroying accessibility and ableism barriers while building policy that will make live easier for my son and his entire disability community. And I still feel like I know so, so little and never enough, and of course still make big mistakes. But even when learning is painful and humiliating, in my experience it is worth doing.