HE bit a classmate – right in the middle of class.
He had been wandering around when someone grabbed his arm to pull him back to his seat. That was when he bit.
To most, it looked like violence. But I knew it wasn’t. It was fear – for him, the world was too loud, too bright, too much. He was simply a boy who didn’t know how to say, “I’m overwhelmed.”
That boy is my cousin, and he’s autistic.
That day taught me how quickly misunderstanding can turn into judgement – and how deeply we need empathy.
His father once told me, “I won’t hide him out of shame. I’ll keep holding his hand and help him understand this world. I want him to know it still has love.”
Those words stayed with me. Because sometimes, strength isn’t loud. It’s not in speeches or grand gestures. It’s showing up, holding on, loving through the storm.
When I was younger, I didn’t have the words to describe what I felt each time I saw my cousin struggle to speak, or when he cried and shouted in unfamiliar places. All I knew was that the world treated him differently – and not always kindly.
After that day in class, everything changed. Some parents warned their children: “Stay away from that boy.”
Some teachers saw him as a problem, not a child in distress.
But his parents never gave up on him – not after the meltdowns, the stares, the misunderstandings. They kept showing up with patience, hope, and love that didn’t care who was watching.
Eventually, I began to see the world through their eyes. Raising a child with autism isn’t about heroics. It’s quiet bravery – filling out forms, sitting through therapy, and gently insisting: “My child deserves to be seen. To belong.”
Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition that affects how individuals communicate, process information, and respond to the world. Yet it is still often misunderstood.
Some assume it’s caused by bad parenting. Others believe every autistic child behaves the same way.
But autism exists on a spectrum – each individual has unique strengths, challenges, and ways of experiencing the world.
I began to listen more closely, even when there were no words.
The flick of his fingers. The groaning at the back of his throat. The way he looked away. These weren’t lessons from books – I learnt them by loving him.
I discovered that patience isn’t just about waiting. It’s walking beside someone when the road is long and hard – when no one else understands.
But my cousin isn’t alone – and the need to support children with autism has never been more urgent.
As of October 2024, the Department of Social Welfare (JKM) recorded over 65,000 individuals with learning disabilities in the autism category, while only 33 public autism care centres were registered nationwide, according to a report in The Star.
In a separate report published in December 2024, The Star stated that over 32,000 students with autism were receiving education in schools under the Education Ministry.
These numbers point to a growing need for better support systems. And they don’t include those who go uncounted – children whose parents are unaware, in denial, or lack access to diagnosis and care.
Encouraging steps are being taken. Budget 2025 includes plans to build more Permata Kurnia centres, open special education schools in Johor and Sabah, and expand financial aid for therapy and support services.
These are meaningful moves – but more can and must be done.
Last year, I joined a 3D printing competition. My team and I designed a sensory band for autistic children – textured, calming, and meant to help them with overstimulation.
We didn’t make the finals. But that wasn’t the point. We hoped to spark awareness and inspire others – especially professionals – to create innovations that support children with autism.
That experience changed how I view education and science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM).
We often think learning is about chasing grades or acing exams. And we assume STEM is about building robots, writing code, or inventing something huge to change the world. But I’ve come to believe it’s about something deeper.
Real learning isn’t just about getting the right answers – it’s about having the heart to care.
The heart of STEM, at its best, isn’t about impressing others. It’s about including everyone.
If a student can create something that makes life better for even one child, isn’t that success worth celebrating?
I’m not an expert. I’m just someone who has watched, listened, and learnt to love differently. And if autism has taught me anything, it’s this: the quietest voices often have the most to say – if only we’re willing to hear them.
That’s why we need more than awareness. We need action.
We need teachers trained to respond with compassion, schools that welcome every child, and students who grow up embracing differences rather than fearing them.
We need a society that makes room for every kind of mind.
And we need inventors, thinkers and creators – people like you and me – to keep building tools that support every child in living a fuller, freer life.
Because no child should be hidden out of shame. Every child deserves a hand that says: “You belong.”
Isabel, 14, a student in Johor, is a participant of the BRATs Young Journalist Programme run by The Star’s Newspaper-in-Education (Star-NiE) team. For updates on the BRATs programme, go to facebook.com/niebrats.
With the theme of the article in mind, carry out the following English language activities.
1 In pairs, come up with a list of kind things students can do when they notice a classmate is struggling. Share your list with the class.
2 In groups of five, suggest a tool or feature that could help a student with autism at school (e.g. a quiet corner, sensory band). Draw and label your idea, then present it to the class. Your classmates will rate it based on how practical and helpful it is.
The Star’s Newspaper-in-Education (Star-NiE) programme promotes English language learning in primary and secondary schools nationwide. For Star-NiE enquiries, email starnie@thestar.com.my.
