Geordie
Geordie
Chris Valdez works quickly and quietly in the dining room at Wood Ranch, smoothing the cloth napkins flat and rolling forks and steak knives inside them. He's good at the work and dependable, but the piece rate job at the Ventura restaurant brings in only $100 a month.
He wants more.
"My parents aren't going to live forever," said Valdez, who has autism. "I need to figure out a way to live."
The 23-year-old Camarillo man gets by on disability benefits but is trying to find a job paying $8 an hour. He's applied at retail and grocery stores but so far has no takers. He's looking for job search assistance from the state Rehabilitation Department, but that too is pending.
Valdez and his parents want more than the sheltered workshops of the past, as do most families in the new generation of autism.
"They want to be out in the community, doing volunteer work and hopefully get a job," said Fred Robinson, CEO of Arc of Ventura County, a nonprofit that has phased out its workshops.
"That's what we're trying to transition our services to reflect, and that's going to take time. It's going to be several years in the making."
Job specialists and advocates blame the high unemployment rates on a spotty transition between school and work, poor worker preparation and some employers' fear of autism.
Communication difficulties, behavioral issues and the tough labor market also are cited.
They also say it's time to speed up change.
With estimates showing as many as 500,000 on the autism spectrum will become adults in the next 10 years, a recent study published by the American Academy of Pediatrics showed they face heavy odds.
In the first six years after high school, 55 percent had held paid jobs, the lowest rate of any disabled group examined in the study. The authors found people with mental retardation were more likely to be employed, at nearly 70 percent.
About 85 percent of people with speech and language problems had been employed, as were 94 percent of those with learning disabilities.
Valdez is considered high-functioning in his learning skills but stayed in the special-education track in high school. By doing so, he could continue his schooling until 22 and get job training.
Few people in those programs get full-time jobs after, said Fran Arner-Costello, a special-education administrator. She ties that to the high levels of disability among students.
Valdez started by cleaning animal cages, earning $30 a month, he said. The smells were overwhelming, and there were too many rules, he said. So he quit after a couple of years and substituted as a fill-in worker at a cafeteria and in janitorial jobs.
Ultimately, he wound up at Wood Ranch, where he works in a crew of five disabled adults overseen by a job coach.
After three years of rolling silverware, Valdez is itching for a change. He does not drive, so the income of $100 a month only covers his bus fare from Camarillo.
He works at least 40 hours a month but is ready to move up to a regular hourly job, said Ricky Sett, supervisor at PathPoint, the agency that provides job coaching.
Valdez had hoped to become a policeman when he was a child but now says he will be satisfied with a minimum-wage job as a clerk.
Even in his current situation, he has more independence than many adults with autism.
Most adults receiving state support for autism live at home with their parents. Valdez decided to move out with support from agencies that help developmentally disabled adults live independently.
He started the process by cooking and budgeting in his parents' Camarillo home under supervision. Around 2008, he moved into a low-income apartment for developmentally disabled people in Oxnard. He left the rental after a year, lonely for his family and familiar sights in Camarillo.
He now lives in a mobile home in Camarillo that his mother bought. He shares it with a roommate and pays rent of $425 a month from disability income of $800 to $900 a month, he said.
A caseworker drives him to the grocery store, where he buys his food and later cooks it. He takes his medication without supervision. For fun, he plays video games.
"It makes me feel like I'm in paradise," he said.
He depends on his family for rides and advice. But otherwise he's pretty independent.
Valdez said he once felt autism had ruined his life but that now he has come to terms with it.
"Sometimes I wish I was a normal person," he said. "When I was a kid, I didn't want autism anymore, but I came to realize my disability is permanent. It's something that can't be cured. It's something you live with for the rest of your life."
Last month, he met with caseworkers for an annual talk about his progress and goals. He hopes to get a driver's license and start dating.
The latter wish came true a couple of weeks ago when he took a woman out to dinner.
It was "awesome," he said.
Autistic Camarillo man aims for a better job ? Ventura County Star
- vcstar.com
