Autism | Calderism

When it came time to choose my Eagle Scout project, I had plenty of options. I could’ve built a park bench, cleaned up a hiking trail, or made tables for a nearby park. All solid choices. But honestly, those didn’t feel like my project. They felt like things that would check a box but that wouldn’t actually stick with me. I wanted something that mattered, something personal.

That’s when I thought of Henderson Haven – Calder’s school. It’s not just where he learns – it’s where he shines. It’s one of the few places that truly gets him. The place where he can run barefoot, nap when he’s tired, and casually go up in hot air balloons while the rest of us are still sitting through another agonizing lecture on biology. It’s where yogurt stains and mismatched socks don’t even raise an eyebrow. It’s his space, and in a way, its our space too.

So when I was deciding on what to do for eagle project, it just made sense to do it there. What I didn’t realize was just how complicated painting straight lines on blazing hot asphalt can be. The sun that day was absolutely ruthless, if felt like we working inside an oven. The tape wouldn’t stick properly, the paint dried either too quickly or not quickly enough, and the heat made every step feel like running a marathon over hot coals.

And of course, no good project is complete without at least one disaster. Ours came courtesy of my brother – Jack. In a foolish act, he carelessly let a full bucket of white paint plummet on the ground. It splashed everywhere – on the asphalt, on everyone’s shoes and it ruined a perfectly good line. For a solid minute, we just stared at the mess like maybe if we ignored it, it would dry and magically fix itself. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

So there we were, sweaty, tired, and now scrambling to clean up the mess before the paint completely set in. I had to send a scout out to make a quick run to the nearest Lowe’s to grab paint remover and whatever supplies we thought might save us. But even with all the setbacks, the heat, and the spilled paint, we got it done. The lines were fresh, bright, and ready for the morning rush of parents, teachers, and kids.

Calder and my mom swung by as we were wrapping up and brought us all fresh food and cold drinks. When Calder stepped out of the car and looked around, his whole face lit up. He saw the freshly painted lines, and immediately sprinted across the parking lot, zig-zagging from line to line like they were made just for him. He danced between the spaces as grabbed our slices of pizzas and cooled off with some ice cold gatorade.

That moment made all the sweat and scrambling was worth it. It hit me that this wasn’t just about parking spaces – it was about doing something that made life a little easier, a little better, for people like Calder. For the parents unloading backpacks, for the teachers who notice the little things, and most of all, for the kids who deserve bright, welcoming spaces that say, “Hey, we thought of you.” I could’ve built a bench anywhere. But I got to do it at his school. I got to build something where he belongs. And that’s what I’ll remember long after I earn my eagle scout.