Between a Fern and a Traffic Cone
- Alan Freedman
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read

If you’re autistic, chances are someone has told you, “You should have known better.”
If you’re neurotypical, chances are you’ve said it.
And if you’re me, you’ve heard it so often it might as well be engraved on my tombstone: “Here lies Alan. He still doesn’t know better.”
Case Study #1: Kindergarten Cop
Every superhero has an origin story. Mine began when I was five, powered by juice boxes and unfiltered honesty.
My neighbor—who also happened to be my best friend’s older sister—accosted me at school and introduced me to a girl with no arms. Even at that tender age, I already shirked from being accosted, introduced, or otherwise socially ambushed. But I sucked it up and asked the reasonable question:
“What happened to your arms?”
Instead of a backstory, my neighbor went full Will Smith and whapped me across the face.
Apparently, I should have known better.
At five. A year before I figured out how to tie my shoes.
Case Study #2: Law & Disorder
Fast forward to adulthood. I was driving down a street when I encountered a police car parked diagonally, blocking part of the road. To me, it looked like the officer had just stopped in a hurry—maybe to get a donut, maybe to fight crime, maybe to fight a donut.
Other cars were detouring onto side streets, which made absolutely no sense. If the street was blocked, there should’ve been flashing blue lights, or a cone, or at the very least a mime waving his arms dramatically. Instead, there was just a police car angled like it had lost an argument with geometry. So I did the logical thing and drove around it.
At which point, an officer sprinted after me, screaming that I had just “driven through a police blockade!” He asked if I was drunk and managed to imply—in ways both vicious and wildly creative—that my intelligence floated somewhere between a fern and the traffic cone he forgot to set out.
Apparently, I should have known better.
Somehow every other driver did.
Neurotypical Rulebook (Sold Separately)
Here’s the catch: neurotypicals operate with an invisible Rulebook of Social Life™.
Chapter 4, Section 12: Never ask about missing limbs.
Chapter 8, Section 7: Parked police cars may secretly be barricades.
Chapter 11, Section 2: If you don’t already know the rule, you’re guilty of breaking it.
This book is never actually handed out. You’re just expected to have downloaded it at birth, like a firmware update. From the neurotypical perspective, the rules are obvious. To them, our mistakes feel willful, even reckless.
Asking about arms? Rude.
Driving past a police car? Dangerous.
But here’s the thing: we’re not mind readers. And neither are they. Maybe it’s time for both sides to upgrade:
Neurotypicals: Instead of “You should have known better,” try “How can I make this clear for you?”
Autistics: Instead of pretending we get it, just fess up: “Sorry, my rulebook didn’t download that chapter. Can you send me a link?”
That way, we don’t waste time punishing each other for failed telepathy.
Final Takeaway
“You should have known better” isn’t a teaching moment. It’s a schoolmarm scolding with a kazoo—loud, humiliating, and completely unintelligible.
So let’s retire the phrase and replace it with honesty, clarity, and maybe even a touch of humor. Because at the end of the day, we’re just two species trying to share a sidewalk without turning it into a police procedural.
Comments