My Kids Are Autistic — And Their Teachers Don’t Know How to Handle Them

 I am a mother of two autistic children, and some days I feel like my strength is being tested beyond human limits.

Every morning I wake up already tired. Not because I don’t love my children ,I love them with every breath in my body  but because the world they live in was never built to understand them.

My daughter goes to school, but instead of being supported, she is misunderstood.

Instead of patience, she is met with frustration.

Instead of care, she is treated like a problem.

Teachers complain that she is “too much.”

They say she doesn’t listen.

They say she disrupts the class.

But no one asks why.

No one tries to understand autism.

No one tries to learn her triggers, her fears, her beautiful unique way of seeing the world.

They see bad behaviour.

I see a child overwhelmed.

They see stubbornness.

I see a child struggling to communicate.

It breaks my heart to send her to a place where she feels unwanted.

At home, it doesn’t get easier.

I have two autistic kids ,double the love, but also double the exhaustion.

Meltdowns.

Sleepless nights.

Doctor visits.

School meetings where I feel judged instead of helped.

Sometimes I lock myself in the bathroom just to cry quietly so my children won’t see how broken I feel.

And in those moments I ask God…

“Why me, Lord?

Why my children?

What did I do to deserve this pain?”

I watch other parents complain about small things while I’m fighting battles they will never understand.

I worry about my children’s future.

Who will protect them when I’m gone?

Who will love them gently in a cruel world?

People say, “You’re strong.”

But they don’t see the nights I fall apart.

They don’t see the fear I carry every day.

I didn’t choose this life  but I choose my children every single day.

All I want is for schools to learn.

For teachers to be trained.

For society to stop treating autistic kids like burdens.

They are not broken.

They are just different.

Different doesn’t mean difficult.

Different doesn’t mean unworthy.

My children are intelligent.

They are loving.

They are beautiful souls trapped in a world that refuses to understand them.

I’m tired.

I’m drained.

But I keep going  because a mother’s love has no quitting point.

And even when I question God through tears…

I still hold on to hope that one day my children will be accepted, protected, and treated with the dignity they deserve.

Until then, I will keep fighting.

For my daughter.

For my son.

For every autistic child who just wants to be understood.