Two interesting items today:
First, does your child perhaps have both Moebius Syndrome and autism?  If so, note--there is a designer working on interiors that are effective and soothing for autistic children.  Read on:
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MINNEAPOLIS — A.J. Paron-Wildes’ home, a walk-out rambler in suburban
 Oak Park Heights, Minn., is a study in calm — all clean, uncluttered 
spaces and earthy, neutral hues that echo the autumn leaves framing the 
view of the St. Croix River. On an autumn afternoon, daughter Eva, 6, is
 having an after-school snack, while son Devin, 19, sketches intently, 
seated at the studio desk in his orderly bedroom.
This peaceful environment is entirely by design. When you have a 
child child with autism, calm is a precious commodity — and Paron-Wildes
 has become an expert at creating it, starting in her own home.
That journey started 16 years ago when Devin was diagnosed with autism at age 3. “It was very traumatic,” Paron-Wildes recalled.
At that time, Devin didn’t speak but was prone to explosive tantrums 
when he was upset or confused. “He’d drop to the floor and start 
screaming.” She and her husband stopped bringing Devin to the grocery 
store or on other errands because they never knew what might trigger an 
eruption. “We’d have to drop everything and leave.”
At the time of Devin’s diagnosis, Paron-Wildes was a very young 
interior designer, only recently graduated from the University of 
Minnesota. “I thought, ‘There’s got to be some great research'” about 
designing spaces for children with autism, but she was wrong. “There was
 nothing,” she recalled. “Everything was done in the ’70s, when kids 
were institutionalized.”
Determined to keep Devin at home, Paron-Wildes committed herself to 
creating an environment where he could learn and thrive. So she started 
educating herself — by working backwards.
She read books about autism, and pored over studies about the 
neurological workings of the brain, becoming fascinated by the different
 ways people with autism perceive colors, patterns and lighting. She 
tried to determine what design elements would likely trigger difficult 
behavior — and then did the opposite, learning through trial and error.
“You can’t really get the information by asking, ‘Is this too bright 
for you?’ ‘Does this make you dizzy?’ You have to watch for cues,” she 
said.
Devin, too, was watching for cues. That’s a necessary strategy for 
children with autism, who usually develop language skills much later 
than their peers. Those who have difficulty communicating verbally often
 look to their environment for cues about what’s happening and how they 
should respond, Paron-Wildes said. They crave order and are easily 
distracted by its absence. They read meaning into seemingly random 
visual signals, and tend to be hypersensitive to harsh artificial light 
and to environmental toxins.
Paron-Wildes learned that the Crayola-bright, busy spaces most people
 consider kid-friendly — “like Ronald McDonald threw up” — are so 
stimulating that they can easily confuse and overwhelm a child with 
autism.
She remembers taking a young Devin to speech therapy — “in a room 
with a jungle gym and kids running around screaming.” The lesson was 
going nowhere, until she suggested moving it to a closet, the only quiet
 place available. There, Devin started to respond.
Information about autism and design may have been scarce when 
Paron-Wildes began searching for it, but that’s changing as autism rates
 have soared. The incidence may now be as high as 1 in 50 children, a 72
 percent increase since 2007, according to a 2013 report from the U.S. 
Department of Health and Human Services and the U.S. Centers for Disease
 Control and Prevention.
That means Paron-Wildes’ expertise is increasingly in demand. “People
 think, ‘Oh, I have to redesign my whole house,’?” she said. “No. Pay 
attention to the areas where the child needs to learn.” Those areas, as 
well as rooms where children rest and sleep, should be well-organized 
and orderly, with minimal distraction and muted, warm colors. “I’ve 
painted many little boys’ rooms pink — it tends to be a calming color,” 
she said.
She has worked with the University of Minnesota to develop research 
and design principles, co-chaired the Minnesota Autism Task Force, has 
written a trilogy of e-books on “Design for Autism” and spoke on “Design
 Empathy” for architects at a recent AIA Minnesota convention. The 
bouncy, enthusiastic designer managed to work an autism joke — with a 
message — into her presentation. Pointing out a mustard-yellow circle at
 the corner of each page of her PowerPoint, she asked: “How many of you 
are wondering what that is there for? I did that to confuse you!” she 
added with a girlish laugh. “That’s what it’s like for kids (with 
autism).”
A designer for the AllSteel workplace furniture firm, Paron-Wildes 
also consults with schools, medical facilities and other organizations 
that serve children with autism and their families. (Most of her 
consulting work is done pro bono.) At this point, she could probably do 
autism-related design full-time, but she enjoys working on a wide range 
of projects. “If my whole life was autism, I would lose perspective.”
One recent consulting project involved working with designers from 
Perkins + Will on a new space for Fraser, a program Devin attended from 
age 3 to 6. The designers transformed a former Life Time Fitness office 
into a speech and occupational therapy site for children with autism and
 others.
Paron-Wildes pointed out design features on a recent visit. Treatment
 rooms and “meltdown areas,” where children often struggle with 
transitions from one activity to another, are quiet and neutral. “It’s 
easier to add color than to take it away,” she said. In other areas, 
brighter hues are used as way-finding cues, guiding children down 
hallways and to color-coded cubbies. Most flooring is kept simple. “If 
you make a pattern, the kids will follow it.”
There’s a lot more color and pattern in the reception area, however, 
where parents wait for their children and sometimes meet with 
therapists.
“One of the biggest complaints in centers is that parents feel like 
they’re in an institution,” Paron-Wildes said. She vividly remembers the
 stark waiting room she sat in when she first heard Devin’s diagnosis 16
 years ago. “It felt very institutional. There was nothing to look at. 
It added to the aloneness and trauma.”
Parents feel calmer and more comfortable in a vibrant, upbeat 
environment. “It’s all psychological,” she said. “These parents want to 
feel like their child is going to a school — a fun school — not to 
treatment.”
Today, Devin is a verbal and affectionate teen who graduated from 
high school, went to prom and has developed into a gifted artist. He 
hopes to study art further; his work has won numerous awards and is 
proudly displayed throughout the family’s house.
That house, too, was chosen and designed with Devin’s needs in mind. 
Up until last year, Paron-Wildes and her family lived in a historic 
house in Stillwater, Minn. It was not calm, at least not after Devin’s 
sister joined the family. “We didn’t think we’d have a second kid,” 
Paron-Wildes said. “Then we had Ava. She’s a screamer. It was hard on 
Devin. We were having a lot of behavioral issues.”
So they found another house, one with plenty of separation between 
the kids’ rooms. Devin has a large bedroom with a lofted ceiling and a 
big window overlooking the river. “It’s really quiet up here; the 
6-year-old doesn’t bother him,” his mother said. His room has lots of 
natural light and views of nature, which he loves studying through his 
telescope. There’s even an adjacent “Lego room” where he can retreat to 
build elaborate structures. Devin didn’t want to move at first — 
transitions are still difficult — and threatened to run away. But he 
soon adjusted. “He is so comfortable here — he loves his space,” 
Paron-Wildes said. “We have zero issues now.”
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And in other news--disability-related hate crimes are down: 
The number of reported hate crimes targeting people with disabilities fell last year, the FBI says.
There were 92 hate crime offenses based on disability bias recorded 
in 2013, according to statistics released this week from the FBI’s 
Uniform Crime Reporting Program. That’s down from the year prior when 
106 incidents were reported.
The decline mirrors a drop in the overall number of hate crimes 
documented. Last year, the FBI logged 5,928 criminal incidents, a 
decrease from 6,573 in 2012.
Disability bias represented 1.4 percent of the hate crimes reported 
in 2013. Of them, 69 were related to mental disability and 23 were 
linked to physical disability, the FBI said.
For the first time this year, hate crimes statistics include data on 
crimes stemming from gender and gender identity bias, categories which 
were added under the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crime 
Prevention Act of 2009.
Hate crimes reporting also includes data on criminal incidents 
motivated by a bias toward a particular race, religion, sexual 
orientation or ethnicity in addition to disability.
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