Yesterday, my brother posted a few photos of my niece and nephew on their first day back at school. It took me straight back to my own school days.
Once upon a time, I loved the back-to-school season. New shoes. A new uniform. A new bag. Something new.
I have vivid memories of my dad parking somewhere in downtown Harare, then walking us up and down the shops, Enbee, Bata, Nagarji, oh, and Ratanjee, looking at prices, sizes and whatever each of us needed. It was almost always a whole-day affair. There might be an ice cream, yoghurt or a drink at the end of it. If we were really lucky, takeaway.
Of course, there was a downside. One of us would often be left “guarding” the car while another sibling went off to look for their things. We all went to different schools, so everyone had their turn.
By the time the Drifter was packed and ready for the long journey back to Botswana, I would be itching for school to open. I could not wait to show off my new shoes. This one year, I had a heavy pair of Weinbrenner’s, about 700 grams each shoe, if I remember right. Damn, I was proud of those shoes. They were durable too and lasted me through quite a few years of junior secondary school.
But now, in the middle of all this back-to-school hustle, my mind goes somewhere else too.
I think about how overwhelming that kind of day can be for an autistic child.
The crowds. The noise. The waiting. Being pulled from one shop to another. Being told, “Just one more shop.” The feel of new uniforms. Trying on shoes. Adults talking over your head. Not knowing how long it will take or what is happening next.
And then, after all of that, there is school itself: a new classroom, unfamiliar routines, new teachers, different expectations, the fear of being misunderstood and, for too many children in Africa, masking, the stigma and ableism that still exist.
Some autistic children may love parts of back-to-school. Others may dread it. Many will feel both excitement and anxiety at once.
For some children, buying school items is not simply a shopping trip. It is the first transition before the school transition.
The African context
For many families in Zimbabwe and across Africa, school uniform rules can feel non-negotiable. In a school with hundreds of learners, asking for an exception for one child can feel like beginning a difficult conversation before term has even started.
Parents may be told, “Rules are rules.” Some schools may not have the resources, training or flexibility to respond well. And sometimes, honestly, families are already carrying so much that challenging the system feels impossible.
But no child should have to choose between attending school and coping with clothing, shoes or routines that cause them real distress.
So how do we make this season lighter?
Parents do not need a perfect plan or expensive resources to make it gentler. If possible, break the shopping into shorter trips; share the plan in advance; let your child know which shops you will visit; offer choices where you can; take breaks; and listen when they have had enough
Schools can help too, by being flexible about uniforms, giving families information early and making it clear that every child deserves to arrive feeling safe and welcome. Can the school share photos, a timetable or a chance to visit before the first day? Is there a trusted adult they know they can go to when things get too much?
Most importantly, are we asking autistic children to “cope” with an environment that is not meeting their needs, or are we changing the environment too?
What do you remember about back-to-school season? And what would have made it easier for you or your child?
#BackToSchool #AutismAcceptance #InclusiveEducation #NeurodiversityAffirming #AfricanNeurodiversityMovement #DifferentMindsUnitedAfrica