We read about autism the other day. A lot of my classmates know virtually nothing about it, but I am no stranger. My primary school classmate, Roy, suffered from the mental disorder. In retrospect, I realise what difficulties and challenges Roy and his family went through over those years.

Autistic kids do not lack intelligence; they are just locked in their own world, which outsiders have no access to. Roy’s grandma was beside him in every class we took, for six years. In the final exams in Grade 2, Roy was the only one in our class who was awarded two perfect scores, for Chinese and maths.

Beyond study, the two things Roy could not get enough of were drawing pictures of his family and talking to himself. His soliloquy was far from nonsense; it was all about what he did with his family. What Roy lacked in communicative skills he made up for in his profuse expression of affection to his family. Alone, he would often be heard murmuring, “Mum …” “Father …” “Gran …”

Most of us were terrified of Roy for two reasons. For one thing, almost everyone had been pinched by him. Although we knew he did not do it intentionally, we still tried our best to stay away from him when he went on his pinching spree, because his pinch was very painful. For another, he bit his own hands. His hands covered here and there with wounds and toothmarks, we were more than scared. The reason why he hurt himself was that he did not know how to express himself in a fit of rage. Biting himself was a way of venting his internal pressure probably.

It was not until much later that I came to realise what trouble his family took to ensure Roy did not lag behind the classmates in lessons. Roy studied each lesson twice. His gran by his side, he learned a lesson with us in the classroom during the day. In the evening back at home, his grandma helped him to go over the lesson. Each lesson was thus repeated. His two perfect grades in the final exams in Grade 2 illustrated not only his intelligence but also the exceptional effort that his family put in to support him.

It might have served Roy better, with hindsight, to enrol in a special institute than in a normal school. His needs would have been better met in a special school, where the teachers are well qualified to work with kids with special needs. At times I ask Mum, “Should I have autism, would you put me in a special school or in a normal one?” Mum will reply, “Of course in a regular school, my darling. We would have you mix with normal kids so that you could progress more. And I would be accompanying you every day like Roy’s gran.”

All right. I have understood the reason behind Roy’s family’s perseverance. No matter what you might be, your loved ones always believe you deserve the best treatment under the sun.