Jim Clark (Autism) retires after 30 years of work at college.

This is a truly marvelous story about Jim Clark who has Autism and his stuggle with school, and finding work.  I wonder what his retirement will look like after a full career of work?

By Mara Stine | Outlook

Mike Sanders was just 6 when psychologists told his mother he’d never hold a job, live on his own, or in short, amount to anything.

That’s what makes his retirement after 30 years at Mt. Hood Community College such an achievement.

“They said I was ungovernable,” says Sanders between deliveries in the campus mailroom. His mother disagreed. She successfully lobbied the Legislature to ensure that her son, and other children with disabilities, were guaranteed access to quality education.

And that mother with the “ungovernable” son? She went on to become the first woman governor of Oregon.

“It was hard to believe a time like this would ever come,” says Mike’s mom Barbara Roberts. “But I always knew he had capabilities. It was a matter of patience and training and believing in him. But one job in 30 years? I don’t think I would have ever thought that. I’m really proud of him.”

She was 19 and living in Texas with her husband, who was in the Air Force, when Mike was born in 1956. He was an easy baby and content. But he avoided eye contact with people and didn’t want to be touched or cuddled.

As he grew, Mike developed quirks. He’d make strange hand gestures when nervous or distressed. His speech skills were delayed.

But the boy was smart and had a great sense of humor.

“He could read before he was 3,” Barbara says.

Mike was just a toddler when his family moved to Portland. There educators declared him too disabled to teach and expelled the first-grader.

Nobody used the term autism, which today is known as a broad spectrum of brain disorders. Patients can range from highly intelligent individuals to those who can’t speak.

‘Severely emotionally disturbed’

But back then, Mike was merely labeled retarded, or “severely emotionally disturbed,” as his mother recalls

“They said he’d never be able to go to school, hold a job, live alone or take care of himself,” Barbara says, adding she was advised to place him in an institution. “And they were the so-called experts. That was basically the diagnosis — put him away. Thank God I didn’t.”

Instead, she enrolled Mike in a cutting-edge program that strived to teach children like him to function in the world. For three years, he lived at the Parry Center for Children in Southeast Portland, spending time at home with his family on the weekends.

He moved back home when he was 9 and the timing was perfect. His family had settled in Parkrose, where the school district just started a federally funded class for children such as Mike to see if they could function in a classroom setting.

“The Project,” was a success.

And parents couldn’t imagine the three-year program coming to an end.

That’s when Barbara — by then a divorced mother of two — teamed up with then state Rep. Frank Roberts. Together, they passed landmark legislation that not only ensured a public education for children with disabilities, but also funded it.

Along the way, Barbara and the state representative fell in love. They eventually married.

Meanwhile, Mike entered the sixth-grade at Sacramento Elementary School and graduated from Parkrose High School in 1975.

But that educational victory didn’t translate into employment.

“Trying to find a job was difficult,” he recalls. “They had this box. Autistic people only did stuff like sweep floors or wash dishes in the backs of restaurants.”

Mike took part in several job-training programs, including a food service program at Portland Community College. But the fast paced, high-pressure kitchen environment didn’t mesh well with his methodical nature.

Creating opportunity

Barbara, who was a board member for Mt. Hood Community College, wondered if college classes would help create an employment opportunity for him.

She and Frank, also a former college board member, talked to Mt. Hood Community College president Stephen Nicholson about whether there was a place on campus where Mike could fit in.

That’s how Mike, now 54, came to apply for a 24-hour-a-week job delivering mail on campus. It was a perfect match: Regimented and routine.

Lest you think his job was easy, Mike’s boss, Iain Graalum, indicates otherwise. During his four daily routes delivering mail, graphics and cases of printer paper to various departments, Mike delivered 135 cases of printer paper, or 675,000 sheets, plus 350 graphics for tests and course packets, every month.

“Mike’s doing more now than ever,” said Graalum, who’s worked with Mike for 17 years. “He’s really stepped it up and learned a lot more than anyone ever gave him credit for.”

But it wasn’t always that way. When Graalum started at the college, Mike was spending a lot of time on breaks. About every other day he’d become overwhelmed or agitated. To cope Mike would stand in the corner shaking his hands and twitching.

Graalum realized people didn’t think Mike was capable of more because he wasn’t being given more to do. He needed direction. Guidance.

So Graalum slowly began to give him more job duties. And he flourished. Now, Mike’s twitching spells are few and far between, about once a month.

A friendship forms

The two also have formed a close friendship. Graalum knows the kind of things that agitate Mike and does what he can to avoid it.

“It’s a matter of finding those strategies that work with him,” Graalum says. “A lot of people just see the disability and don’t get past it.”

They are not able to appreciate how Mike can glance at a bus schedule and it’s committed to memory. Or how he’s an authority on music, right down to who sings back up or who produced it. And of course, he’s an expert in politics.

Mike in turn knows how to read his boss’ moods based on the music he’s playing. If The Grateful Dead are playing, it’s a good day. Young Bob Dylan? “I stay out of the way,” Mike says.

Graalum has come to value Mike’s work ethic and reliability.

“When he calls in sick, he’s really sick,” Graalum says. “It makes us concerned.”

“I don’t think anyone thought when Mike started that he’d still be here 30 years later,” Graalum says. “A lot of people thought he wouldn’t be able to do it, to focus that long, because of the disabilities.”

Mike agrees. “That specialist who said, ‘He’ll never amount to anything, throw away the key,’ that specialist with the numerous initials after his name — wouldn’t he be astounded?” Mike asks. “I think he would be flabbergasted to say the least.”

Instead, Mike has been at the college so long, only two instructors have more seniority than him. In fact, Mike has become a bit of a mascot on campus, a fixture that everybody recognizes and loves, Graalum says.

“He will be missed,” he adds sadly.

Source: http://www.theoutlookonline.com/news/story.php?story_id=12881447569...

If anyone reading this article has autism and has retired after a life of work, I would really be interested and what they are doing in their retirment life.

Sharon