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.