He’s eight. Tiny, serious, and obsessed with numbers—not just how, but why they work. Once, I spent ten minutes explaining infinity, and he asked questions like he was prepping for a PhD.
He’s also autistic. That means some things—like switching tasks or making eye contact—are harder. But when we do math, everything clicks.
Sometimes I forget I’m the “teacher.” We’re just two people solving puzzles together. And when he struggles, I’ve learned not to “fix” it. He’s not a problem—just a kid who loves math in a world that doesn’t always fit how he thinks.
And that’s okay. I’m learning to meet him where he is.
