Navigating Asperger's.

Date published: 4/13/2005

EVERY SCHOOL has one: an outcast. That kid who just doesn't fit in.

At Sandshore Road Elementary School in Budd Lake, N.J., he was Billy Jennings.

Billy Jennings was uncool for so many reasons. He wore button-up plaid shirts every day.

He had just about no social skills. He never knew how to join in when we were playing. He rarely talked to us. When he did, he always talked too loud or said dumb things.

Rumor had it he never bathed.

Guess who had to play his wife in the third-grade play?

It seemed just about everyone had words of sympathy for me. They all crowded around to make Billy Jennings jokes.

Just as I was about to respond, I overheard the music teacher talking to my teacher. She said that she had chosen me to be Billy Jennings' wife because I was the nicest kid in the class. She worried that any of the other kids would make fun of him.

I shut my mouth.

And even though I had it on good authority that Billy Jennings never washed his hands, and I had seen him often stick his finger up his nose, I held his hand. On stage. In front of everyone.

I was the nicest kid in the class.

I never once talked to Billy Jennings. I didn't ever invite him to sit with me in lunch. Never smiled at him. Or in any way cared about him.

I was proud of my kindness.

And I never thought about it again. Until a few years ago.

Because my younger son is a lot like Billy Jennings.

He does bathe. And he doesn't wear plaid shirts to school.

But he's nothing like the other kids.

Ben taught himself to read when he was 2. When other kids drew rainbows and stick figures on the sidewalk, a 4-year-old Ben filled ours up with addition problems. Now, nearly 7, he can find his way anywhere just by looking at a map. He knows how to get to Texas, although we've never been there. He watches the Weather Channel for fun.

Date published: 4/13/2005