My Music for Autism Volunteer Experience
Miles Shankman
When I first learned about Music for Autism, my curiosity was immediately sparked. The idea of designing live concerts specifically for individuals with autism felt both innovative and meaningful, yet I was unsure what that impact would truly look like in practice. Still, something about the mission stayed with me, and I knew I wanted to be part of it. As soon as I found a concert that fit my schedule, my dad and I signed up to volunteer. In the days leading up to it, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. I wondered if the more experienced volunteers had already mastered the ability to connect with every attendee and create a welcoming environment, and whether I would be able to do the same.
When I arrived, I made a conscious decision to leave those worries behind and approach the experience with an open mind. I helped set up for a few minutes, and before long, families began to arrive. I was assigned to coat check, which might sound like a simple, even mundane task. However, it quickly became one of the most meaningful parts of my experience. Each person I greeted brought warmth and kindness, and what began as a routine responsibility turned into genuine human connection. I found myself having thoughtful conversations that lasted several minutes, learning small but memorable details about people’s lives. In those moments, I realized that even the smallest role can contribute to making someone feel seen and welcomed.
As the concert began, the atmosphere transformed almost instantly. The room filled with a vibrant, uninhibited energy that was impossible to ignore. Some audience members leapt out of their seats, while others rocked or bounced along to the music. There was no sense of self-consciousness, only pure expression and joy. That energy was contagious. Without even thinking, I found myself moving along with the music, completely immersed in the moment. Throughout the performance, several children came up to the front and began dancing, and I joined them. There was something incredibly powerful about that shared space, where everyone felt free to express themselves exactly as they were. It was clear that this was more than just a concert; it was an environment built on acceptance, understanding, and celebration.
This experience fundamentally changed the way I think about accessibility, inclusion, and the power of live performance. I realized that accessibility is not only about physical accommodations, but also about creating spaces where people feel genuinely comfortable being themselves. Inclusion goes beyond simply inviting people in; it requires intention, empathy, and a willingness to meet individuals where they are. Most importantly, I saw how live performance can transcend barriers and bring people together in a way that few other experiences can. Music, in that setting, became a universal language that allowed everyone to connect, express themselves, and feel a sense of belonging. That is a kind of impact that stays with you long after the final song is played.
