Another Point of View: Autism and the Power of Connection

 By Ashley Perez

Before that Friday, my understanding of autism was shaped more by what I had heard than what I had experienced. Autism, or Autism Spectrum Disorder, is often described as a condition that affects how a child communicates, socializes, and experiences the world. It’s diagnosed over time, through observation—how a child speaks, interacts, responds, and behaves. No single test can define it. It’s something professionals come to understand by seeing patterns, differences, and unique ways of being. But definitions can feel distant—until they meet a real person.

Beyond the Diagnosis: A Personal Connection

My partner is legally blind. At the age of twelve, he decided he wanted to learn how to play the guitar. Now, at thirty three, he is a musician. Music became his voice, his independence, his way of proving that limitations don’t define what someone can become. Playing the guitar is his way of expressing himself, of navigating a world that often underestimates people with disabilities. He teaches guitar to individuals who, like him, experience the world differently.

Together, we volunteered at the art foundation for people with disabilities, where he teaches guitar. On Friday, March 13, we attended one of his classes. That day, he was teaching an eight-year-old boy on the autism spectrum. I’ll be honest—I felt nervous. Not because of the child, but because of the quiet stereotypes I had carried with me. The assumptions about what autism looks like, how a child might behave, how the interaction might feel. But the moment I met him, those ideas didn’t just fade—they completely unraveled.

Breaking the Mold

He was affectionate—so naturally warm, the kind of child who connects without hesitation. He was social, playful, and incredibly present. There was a brightness in the way he spoke, in the way he engaged, in the way he simply was.

And then came the guitar. My partner showed him how to hold it, how to place his fingers along the strings. What I expected to be slow or uncertain… wasn’t. He picked it up with ease. He paid attention—not in the quiet, distant way I had imagined, but with curiosity and excitement. He followed along, eager, focused, yet still playful. He listened, tried, smiled, and adjusted, all with a kind of confidence that felt effortless.

A World of Connection and Joy

He had beautiful manners. He was respectful, engaged, and full of life. He was the best. After the class, his energy only grew. He wanted to play—with us, with everything around him. He asked if we could play soccer, his excitement spilling over in every word. He ran, laughed, and moved with a kind of joy that was impossible to ignore.

At one point, he brought over his toys—little soft ones called squishies—and shared them with us without hesitation. The instructor explained that children like him often enjoy them because of their texture, how they feel in their hands. Watching him, it wasn’t just about the toy—it was about connection. He wanted to include us in his world. He was playful, even a little hyperactive, but in the most genuine, innocent way.

A Shift in Perspective

Then, in the middle of it all, he asked if he could eat chocolate. And before taking any for himself, he offered some to my partner and me. And in that moment, I realized something I hadn’t fully understood before—autism doesn’t look one way. It doesn’t fit into the narrow expectations we sometimes create. A diagnosis explains certain behaviors, but it doesn’t define a child’s personality, their warmth, their intelligence, or their ability to connect.

That day, I didn’t just watch a child learn guitar. I watched my own perspective change. And in the simplest, most genuine way, he taught me more than I ever expected to learn.