Throwing rocks that create tsunamis

Several commenters on Stark Raving Mad Mommy seem to be concerned that if they attempt to teach their children how to read facial expressions, the parents might come off too strongly and their children's feelings might get hurt.



I'd like to share a story with you, if I may, that might shed some light on the subject.


When I was in elementary school, I didn't understand the social thing. I didn't get personal space, or waiting for a pause in the conversation to talk, and my personal hygiene was lacking.

This did not go over very well with the other kids.

As punishment for my out of bounds social behavior, the kids at my school found a fitting punishment for me: they threw rocks. They were never very big rocks- mostly the pea gravel from the playground.


In contrast, any kind of guidance from parents is sweet and kind by comparison.

From johndavidthorntondrawing.blogspot.com

Think about a tsunami

Most of them are caused by an earthquake in the ocean. This earthquake doesn't have to be very big; it can be fairly small. In the middle of the ocean, a tsunami isn't very big- only about a foot higher than normal sea levels. As the earthquake causes a shockwave that travels closer to shore, the wave caused by the earthquake becomes more visible as it increases in amplitude.

There are stories of Japanese fishing vessels going out to sea on a calm day and returning at night to find their villages destroyed by tsunamis they didn't even see.

This is like the social thing. NNTs are like Japanese fishermen out at sea; we can't see the tsunamis until we get close to shore again. Everyone else are like villagers; they can see the tsunami coming. Parents, teachers, psychologists, etc. are like scientists: they have the equipment to see a tsunami coming- they might even be able to teach the fishermen to use those instruments.

Now, if you don't know what a tsunami is- or what causes them- you might attribute it to God, or demons, or Cthulhu. That's where parents come in: they can tell you that it is not God or Cthulhu, but an earthquake/weird behavior that causes tsunamis/rock throwing.

Today scientists have equipment that can help detect earthquakes that cause tsunamis; they detect changes that aren't visible to the naked eye. Even with this equipment, if you were to be in the ocean above an earthquake, you might not see anything other than a small wave. But you are a scientist! You know an earthquake has occurred- your instruments say so.



Children can be incredibly cruel and mean. If you love your kid and tell them so, and just keep trying to teach them the social thing.


I almost never get that my behavior is a problem until it becomes tsunami-sized. I still sometimes don't see others' facial or body expressions unless they are tsunami-sized. I forget to use my science equipment to look for the early warning signs of other peoples happiness, sadness and anger.

As a parent, your job is to give your child the tools they need to successfully navigate the world around them. If you are doing your best to prepare your child by teaching them facial expressions, you can bet that your techniques are more kind than the techniques used by your child's peers.

I'm still angry

There are a lot of great posts out there about teachers who made a difference. There are great stories from moms and dads about teachers, staff and administrators who are making a difference in the lives of non neurotypicals.

That's awesome, I love hearing those stories. They make my heart joyful and I'm glad to see those changes happening.

But here's the deal: I'm still angry. I graduated highschool in 2008, I graduate college this spring, but there are still things I'm angry about.

I'm still STILL angry at these things that happened to me 15 years ago.

I'm  angry that I had to stay in for recess and re color my rainbow because I can't draw inside the lines, four times.And when my teacher let me outside, it was less than 2 minutes before the bell rang to come back in.

I'm still angry that it took me 7 years to recover from the trauma of being in that kindergarten classroom.

I'm mad that my first teacher ever told my parents that the fear of God needed to be enstilled in me.

I'm  angry that I didn't ask where the bathroom was because my teachers made me feel stupid. I held it the entire day.

I'm still mad that my teacher watched as the other kids threw rocks at me. Both my teacher and the aide did nothing.

I'm still mad that when The Matriarch came to class to help my teacher would act one way and when she was gone she'd act another.

I'm still angry that I was the only kid in the class who didn't get an award for being helpful, the teacher's favorite student got two.

I'm angry that you let the bullies sit together, right next to me, in the back of the class. 

I'm still angry that bullying was such a problem that I would walk to my SeaStars class and walk her to the car so no one picked on her.

I'm still mad that I spent more time in the hall than in the classroom.

I'm still mad that my third grade teacher embarrassed me in front of the whole class because I got the lowest grade on the spelling test. She told me I should have studied. I spent hours studying.

I'm mad that the administrators said those accommodations would be difficult because the teacher would have to come in early to prepare a separate test for me.

I'm mad that the admin told me I didn't need accommodations because I got good grades.

I'm angry that the smell of elementary classrooms gives me anxiety. Before I go to Bunky's classroom, I have to take three deep breaths and remind myself that I am an adult now. 

I'm still mad that I spent more time doing homework than I did sleeping.

I'm mad that my parents spent more time helping me with homework than they did sleeping. 

I'm still mad that I couldn't sleep because I knew school would be awful.

I'm angry that I had a constant stomache ache from the anxiety.

I'm still mad that I let all of my teachers convince me that The Matriarch wouldnt believe me, that these things were really happening. I spent many years thinking that these things were in my head.


I'm angry that when I talk with my friends about school, they all have fond memories of it. I have memories filled with anxiety, fear and hatred. 




Today, when my friends tell me that they are thinking about becoming teachers, I sometimes look at them like they eat babies. When my friends talk about their school expirences as being mostly positive, I have little to contribute. When they talk about the joy of learning in the classroom all I can think about is how I don't have a single joyful memory of learning in the classroom from elementary school. When they talk about how they loved school and learning, I think how I would have been happier if I had been left alone.


When friends talk about how teachers are underpaid and often work in harsh conditions, I agree, but here's the deal: for every awesome teacher out there making a difference in the life of a child there are two teachers and one administrator who are making life difficult.  


I am very sorry that these things happened to me. I hope at some point, they stop happening at all. This life has made me who I am, for better or for worse.

Wing Man

Hey, How's it going??  Today I want to talk about Wing Men. But not traditional Wing Men.NNT Wing men.


I'm kind of fond of this concept.

and this photo.

So, we've talked a bit before about social skills and what is socially appropriate. 

Now I want to talk a little bit about surviving the social world and some coping techniques.


So parents are the ones we usually rely on, if you're NNT you may rely on them more than most.

Part of my life has been relying on Mom and Dad to be my Social Wing Man.

What does that even mean.

Well in some social situations a wing man helps you out with attracting ladies. Or gents.

In NNT world Wing Men sort of act as an interpreter of social happenings, an ambassador for the NNT and a translator for unspoken social behavior.

Karen you can't just ask people why they're white.

When you're little this is most often your mom. Mom's often point out social happenings when we go on field trips or when she would come and help out in the classroom.  This is important part of development, it allows children to help form generalizations about the world around them.  Like it's only appropriate to pick your wedgies in the bathroom. Not in public view. With parents guidance children can learn to "see" some of the unseen social things.

Now, obviously parents cant be with their children always. That would be an unreasonable expectation. So, as a NNT you learn who would make a good Wing Man and who would not.

This is a Tom Cruise themed post

So when you're young you first rely on your parents to find someone who has these qualities

1. Is socially competent

2. Is nice
3. Can explain what is going on adequately to NNT.
4. Has an unending amount of patience. 

This seems like kind of tall order. It is. Sorry. The first two are the most important. The rest of the list is super useful but not really needed. In a perfect world, you would be able to have a wing man who fulfills all these requirements. Most of the time however, we don't live in a perfect world.

In  a perfect world, I look like this.

When you find someone who meets some of these requirements you sort of start to play spy.  You undertake a secret mission to observe this person and learn from them. Observe what they do. See how they react to situations. See how they deal with NNT weirdness.

As you get to know a wing man and they get to know you, they may come to understand how unique it is to be a non-neurotypical.

Welcome to my chaos

Hey Y'all! Thanks for all your support during the LSATs. I stuck it to them.

Like this.

I'm hoping that you missed me. BUT I have a very good reason.  

My life has been in total chaos the last two weeks. 

Like This.

Let me tell you why.

My routine changed. 

I moved out of my dorm room, the place where I have been living for the last 10 months. This means I had to find a new place for all of my stuff. In the end, I went to the airport with two bags weighing more than 120 pounds total.

People were graduating, and moving on with their life. This means I won't see many of them for a very long time. Some of them I may never see again.

Classes ended, and along with them the predictable schedule of studying and classwork I love my predictable schedule.

My life has changed.

Which got me to thinking about a question I got from stark. raving. mad. mommy. 

What advice would you give a teacher about introducing new people and changes to routine in the classroom? About helping a student through upsets in class? 

Great question!

So, if you are NNT, the world is kind of unpredictable.

If you poke them, they will cry.

Honestly, things that most people find predictable, I find less so. I think this comes from the fact that I miss a lot of non verbal cues from people. They see things that give them a more complete view of the world than I do.

Once something new happens I automatically think about the worst thing that could happen. Then I think about everything  else that could possibly happen. EVERYTHING.

And then I'm exhausted.

Like This

The older I get the more I can tell myself

Self that is a dumb thought that is not helpful. Squids will not walk out of the ocean because you tried calamari.

If you know this reference, we are friends.

But as a kid, it's a little harder to predict what is going on in your world. You simply don't have the same amount of experience that you do as an adult. Also, as a kid you don't have as much control over what you do in your life. Parents, teachers and baby sitters pretty much control where you are and who your with all the time.

If I could go back in time and give advice to the teachers and babysitters who were in charge of me I would ask them to predict the world for me.

Microwave= Time machine

If you can make the world more predictable for those of us whose world is less than predictable then we will have less meltdowns and be happier.

Meltdowns in cases of changes I think come from the emotion and anxiety brought on by not being able to understand these changes.

I would start early, way before a major change is going to happen. I would also be prepared to talk about what is going to happen again before the change happens.

Discuss what this change means in a classroom. Does it change the hours that you do things? Does it change who gets attention from the teacher? What doesn't it change? Is lunch going to be at the same time? Where is the bathroom going to be?

Why are you doing that

Can you develop some skills that will help the child predict similar changes in the future? For example, if you have half days on the third Friday of every month, would setting up a calendar and marking off the days help make that more predictable?

The more you can make a child's world view complete, the happier they will be. And after all, happiness is the end goal.

AWW

If I should have a daughter

Sarah Kay: If I should have a daughter ... | Video on TED.com

If you haven't heard Sarah Kay's poetry, you really should. I really admire her work and this poem in particular is one of my favorite things she's written:

If I should have a daughter, instead of Mom, she's gonna call me Point B, because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me.

TGIF y'all. Monday's Post: NNT have Jedi powers.

The time I embarrassed my mother at the pool.

This story has become family lore and gets told at holidays or when my parents want to poke fun at me.

Once upon a time my mother took me to the pool. I had a jolly time splashing around and swallowing pool water.

This water is the best thing EVA

well soon after four hours it was time for me to go home. Mom took me to the locker room.  And then something like this happened.

excuse me why is your booty so large? 

There was a woman in the locker room. This woman had a very large behind. I had never seen a woman with such a large behind. So I asked my mother:

"Mom, why is that woman's bottom so big?"

Well you see I also still had water in my ears so I said this REALLY LOUD. The woman had totally heard me asking about the size of here hinny. 

My poor Mother.

DAMAGE CONTROL.

She used her mom voice. She was going to try and use this moment to teach me. It could have worked out so well. She said:

"That's not very nice. You should say you're sorry." 

I had recently watched Bambi and learned from Thumper

If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

So, with that gold nugget of wisdom in mind I prepared to bridge the gap between myself and this unknown woman. I said in my sweetest, nicest voice possible.

"I'm sorry your bottom is so big."

what did you say to me small child?

The woman clearly did not think that was a nice thing to say. My mother scoped me up half clothed and carried my still wet out to the car.  And that's why my mother can't take me out in public anymore.

I just can't take you to the pool.

The best advice I ever got.

I have the chance to answer some questions that came from moms. I'll try and answer the questions to the best of my ability. Some of the questions are also serving as inspiration for future posts. So be patient. 

The first question:

What is the best piece of advice or support your parents gave you? If you could go back in time and tell your parents one thing about parenting you, what would it be?

That's a pretty easy one.

The best advice The Matriarch ever gave me is saved on my phone.  It says:

"You are remarkable. Pursue your interests and the right people will come along to keep you company"

So far, it's worked pretty well. It's pretty easy to get caught up in wanting friends and wanting to be liked by my peers. This advice is a good reminder to focus on my academic interest and not stress too much about the people in my life. 

The best advice Dr. Capt. Daddy gave me was

"It doesn't matter if you can do a job as much as your attitude matters. If you have a good attitude, show up on time and are generally nice to people then it doesn't matter what your deficiencies are."

This has served me pretty well too.  It's also easy to get caught up in what I can't do. You get told so much as NNT that there are things that you can't do. This advice reminds me that even though I am NNT I am also much more than that. I can do a great number of things, including some things that NT's can't do.


The advice I would give my parents if I had a time machine?

Don't forget to use your words. Your words have the greatest impact on my life. Tell me that you love me. 

I never felt unloved as a kid, but it was really meaningful when my parents told me with words.  

The time DARE convinced me my mother was a drug dealer

Did I ever tell you the story of the time that D.A.R.E. convinced me that my mother was a drug dealer? No. Well here's the story.

DARE stands for Drug Abuse Resistance Education. It is a program that was founded in 1983 to help keep elementary and middle school kids off drugs.As you can see, the mascot is Darrin the hip lion thing, whose job it is to tell kids to say no to drugs and alcohol. He also convinced me for many years that my mother was a drug dealer.

Would you like some Meth with that bacon?

During my early childhood we lived in a small town in the southwest. It was super small and had a problem with drugs and alcohol abuse, so they started to implement prevention programs as early as first grade. The problem was so bad the school had dedicated an entire week to drug prevention education. It was called red ribbon week.

Red ribbon week was awesome. We skipped some regular classes, were told to wear red shirts and red ribbons in our hair, and at the end of the week the whole school had a parade where all of the classes marched around the block shouting slogans about being drug free.During all of the programs we were told to just say no to drugs and alcohol. We were told drugs were bad and if you did drugs you wouldn't go to college.

Parades!

Now, I had never seen my parents, or any other adult drunk, and I had no idea what illegal drugs were. I had, however, just recently been diagnosed with ADD and had been prescribed perfectly legal drugs for it.

No one told me there was a difference between legal drugs that the doctor gives you so you can focus on math and drugs that creepy men in vans give you so can feel high.

I heard adults say that all drugs were bad, that if you started to take drugs you would end up homeless and toothless and that anyone who offered you drugs was a bad person. If an adult offered you drugs, then you should tell your parents or call the police.

They would take you away

Do you know who offered me drugs every morning, along with making me breakfast?

The Matriarch. 

My mother was a drug dealer. She wanted me to end up homeless. She wanted me to end up toothless. She wanted me to end up in prison.

She. Was. A. Bad. Person.

Bad Person

According to the curriculum, I was supposed to tell my parents that someone had offered me drugs. But I couldn’t do that, The Matriarch was my parent, and telling Capt. Dr. Daddy seemed like snitching. Besides, he had seen my mother take the pills out of the little orange bottle and hand me them at the breakfast table. He was in cahoots with her. 

What was I supposed to do? Should I take the pills every morning and risk end up being toothless/homeless? Should I pretend to take them so The Matriarch didn’t suspect I knew what she was up to? I couldn’t decide. My tiny brain was overloaded.

There was also another problem

I liked taking those pills.

They made my life easier. I could concentrate. I didn’t say as many strange, off topic or inappropriate things. I could get homework done. I had time to play.

Playing. Brought to you by Rx

I felt better about myself now that I was taking drugs. Taking them allowed me to be happy.
Was this the euphoria that all drug addicts felt before their inevitable demise into the seedy underworld of drugs, homelessness and bad dental hygiene?

Drug dealer, also gangster

Did that make me a bad person? Did I secretly want to be homeless/toothless? Was I going to become a drug dealer too?

Again, I couldn’t talk to The Matriarch, or Capt. Dr. Daddy. Because if I did, they would know that I knew that they were drug dealers.

Via Hyberole and a Half

It didn’t make any sense. 





So for many months, I did nothing. I took the drugs. I didn’t tell anyone I thought my mom was a drug dealer. The guilt was eating me up inside.

Until one day it became too much for my tiny brain to handle.

I broke down.  Teary eyed I told The Matriarch one morning that drugs were bad and that I wanted to have all of my teeth and that I didn’t want to take drugs anymore and that I didn’t want to be a drug dealer.

She looked at me.

I looked at her.

She took out the orange bottle. And showed me the place where the doctor’s name was printed on the bottle.

Inanimate objects shouldn't have faces

Then she told me that doctors wrote prescriptions and that I was SUPPOSED to take these drugs. That I wasn’t going to lose my teeth. That I would probably have a house when I grew up. That she was most definitely not a drug dealer. She loved me, and that she would never do anything she didn't think was in my best interest.

still loved me, also, not a drug dealer

The moral of the story is, DARE totally failed to teach me that my mother was not a drug dealer and that drugs prescribed by your doctor are totally okay to take.In fact you should take them in order avoid annoying everyone to death.