The first time I saw her, the young girl happily sat on an exam table and told me about a craft she did at summer camp. Those first moments went quickly sideways when her parent started to tell me about the troubles they were having with the day program. The child had been suspended—not once, but several times—and now it seemed she might not be able to go back.

Quickly, my smiling patient scowled and tensed. She jumped off the table and tried to leave the office. She managed to wriggle out the door and run down the hall. Her tired parent called after her. The visit ended.

The next time, I was better prepared. I met her in the lobby and welcomed her with a prize from our pediatric office. We took a leisurely walk and wandered over to a colorful play therapy room. I let her pick out toys and told her I’d be talking to her parent, but not like last time.

This time, I wanted the vibrant little girl to know I liked her. I told her I had to talk to all the mommies and daddies about the stuff that was hard for their children. I let her know I understood it can feel embarrassing, but when we talk about it to each other, we can find a way to make it better. I made her a promise—no matter what, I would not think she was a bad kid. I thought she was smart and interesting and sometimes got overwhelmed and scared.

We had a great visit, one that did result in her receiving an autism diagnosis as an elementary-age child. Her emotional dysregulation was treated as purposeful by a lot of caretakers, and repeated disruptions were getting harder for staff to handle. Her parent is caring, loving, and a great advocate. But it’s hard to know what to do when everyone tells you your child should behave better, and you’ve exhausted all your options in trying to find support.

As the visit came to a close, my little friend made a comment I don’t recall, but it referenced being kicked out of something. I responded by telling her that children like her were my very favorite patients. And…I told her I had been kicked out of kindergarten!

Her eyes got huge and she smiled. “Really?” she said.

“Really,” I said. “I got sent home in a taxi.”

In all these years, I had never told a child that. Now, for just a couple of minutes, I let her know how getting kicked out used to make me feel like I was really bad, but later I learned that I just didn’t know how to handle all the feelings that happened to me when I was at school.

“So is that why you do this job? To help kids who were like you?” she asked.

My throat filled with emotion as I looked at her impish face smiling up at me. I hadn’t ever directly made that connection, and here was a child with autism who had as much insight as anyone.

I guess that history does have something to do with why I feel a fierce sense of protection for children labeled difficult, strong-willed, or challenging. I often find them interesting, funny, and compassionate. They work so hard just to stay on solid ground. They struggle to fit in, and don’t understand why they feel so different. When their senses are soothed, most are a joy.

Here’s to the “bad kids.” They’ll always be my favorites. And if you want to hear about the taxi ride, it was quite thrilling!