I cannot stand velvet. It makes my skin crawl. Even writing about velvet is causing goosebumps to stand up on my flesh. It’s an aberration of nature and an emblem of all that is wrong with this world. Put succinctly, I wouldn’t touch the love of my life if she was wearing velvet. Fortunately, velvet is easy to avoid. Except for a few years as a child, when my parents owned a green Buick Century with velvet seats, I’ve found few settings where contact with velvet is mandatory.

Another sensory issue has been tougher to avoid – that of chalk and chalkboards. I associate the two materials so closely, they are inseparable in my mind. I’m sure my reaction is specifically to the chalk texture, but the whole experience does me in. The sound of chalk touching the board, the inevitable dust, the sound of the eraser rubbing the chalk off – it all gives me a case of the jibblies.

Needless to say, this was quite the obstacle as a student – particularly in elementary and middle school before marker boards became more commonplace. “We’re going to do board races,” I can hear Teacher saying,” or, “Get out your slates to practice spelling words.” Who would be last done? Could it be the one who would refuse to touch his chalk?


image by S. Schleicher on stock.xchng

To this day, if I have to help in a classroom with a chalkboard, I will avoid using it at all costs. Even if the classroom teacher has one of those metal grips around the chalk, it is off-limits. It’s hard enough controlling autistic behaviors in a school environment without adding such a strong sensory trigger to the mix.

A child with similar issues will have greater challenges. This is not merely a get-over-it issue. He or she is not being defiant or seeking attention. That texture (or other sensory input) is stressful to him or her. It may even hurt. Fortunately, the solution is simple. Provide alternatives. Lay a towel of different material on the car seat. Allow the student to write on paper instead. Allow for pen instead of pencil when it can be an option. Be flexible in a place where your autistic child can’t. Perhaps time will change things. When pressure is low, attempt positive experiences with the undesirable materials, but be aware of how the child is responding.

You can wear velvet all you want. I’ll even sit next to you. Just try not to rub up against me.

Tags: asd

Ars Technica: Why a cold winter doesn't mean climate change is behind us

2008 was pretty chilly, so that means climate change is over, right? Ars Technica takes a good look at the data and concludes that one year does not a trend make.

The facts are that 2008 was cooler than the last few years, but warmer than most in recent history, which lends itself to spin based on the predilections of the person talking about it. But some of that spin specifically plays upon the widespread innumeracy of the public, which isn't well prepared to separate trends from short-term variability, or recognize when certain figures are selectively chosen. We'll try to separate out some of these in a way that will hopefully help readers make a bit of sense out of the conflicting noise.

Ars Technica: Court sides with science, says no vaccine-autism link

Another good piece from Ars looks at a recent court case regarding the purported link between MMR and autism. THe article also takes a look at other vaccine-ASD correlations and finds such connections lacking. Unfortunately, autism (like global climate change) is an issue that involves punditry, politics, and emotion to such an extent as to obscure objectivity in analyzing the facts.

In other words, I doubt this is the last we’ll hear of vaccines causing autism, even if the correlation is weak and the study upon which the claims are based is fundamentally flawed.



Daring Fireball: ‘Word Count’ Script for ThisService

This is an article on Daring Fireball from two years ago, but I think it’s insanely useful if you happen to be a Mac user. I don’t think I’ve shared it before, so I’m correcting that now.

Tags: environment, asd

As I crossed the threshold from the bustle and controlled chaos of the hallway, and my right foot touched the carpet of my Analytical Geometry classroom, a sharp sensation shot up my spine and nestled into my neck and shoulders. It was a familiar feeling. I knew exactly what it meant. I was about to remember something important about this class.

I was supposed to do page 156, odd numbered problems 1-19. It was another assignment for which I would receive half-credit or nothing -- more likely nothing. There was little chance I would remember to do the makeup work once I left the room. I had a D in Analytical Geometry, not because the subject was difficult (nothing could be further from the truth), but because I was missing grades for most of my assignments.

Chances are, similar triggers would occur with each class I entered that day. Assignment notebooks were useless. I'd fill the pages out and forget to look at my notes later. As soon as I walked out of school, most things that happened that day simply disappeared from my mind. The next day, memories would flood back of various tasks and assignments I forgot to complete.

In school, Student Resource Time (SRT), became my salvation once we switched to block scheduling. As long as nothing interfered with my SRT time, I could remember to check on my schoolwork there. Slowly, i was able to broaden the context of my memory to include the entire school building ­ not just the specific classrooms in which the assignment originated. College was less difficult because there was enough downtime on campus for me to work on my work in a school setting. As long as I was on campus, I could remember to do my work.

I was accused of being lazy, of only remembering what I wanted. How could I consistently remember the specifications of the Enterprise NC1701-D or the order in which Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote his musicals, but I couldn't remember something simple like homework? The question baffled me. Truth be told, it still does. I'm always walking into work and feeling that old, familiar sensation of an important memory itching to suddenly resurface.

Contextual memory and the retrieval thereof is a challenge of autism with which I still contend. One solution I've found is to email myself things I need to accomplish. At home, I'll inevitably spend some time on the computer, at which time I'll see a message from myself about something I need to finish for work the next day. Also, I do a great deal of work-related stuff on my personal computer (a late-2006 MacBook Pro), thereby giving the machine a dual context.

Regardless, I find the workings of my memory a challenge that I haven't quite figured out yet. I'll let you know when I do.

Tags: asd, memoirs

Venture Beat: Xbox 360 defects: an inside history of Microsoft’s video game console woes

This is a very insightful article covering the production and marketing of the XBox 360 with a strong emphasis on Microsoft's handling of the Red Ring of Death. It's six fascinating pages of history and intrigue about (what has become) my favorite console.

I hope Microsoft learns from these experiences when it's time to release the next generation of XBox.



LiveScience: Autism and Vaccines: Why Bad Logic Trumps Science

Interesting stuff. As far as I know, no truly conclusive studies have managed to connect childhood vaccinations to autism.

According to lead author Dr. Mady Hornig, "We found no relationship between the timing of MMR vaccine and the onset of autism." In fact, the new study showed that often the first autism symptoms actually preceded the vaccination shots, and therefore could not have been caused by them.

The Seattle Times: How Obama got to convention's center stage

This is a truly fascinating insight into Obama's journey from being unable to get into the Democratic convention eight years ago to being the center of it today. Eight years ago, he couldn't get in to see Gore accept the nomination as a presidential candidate. This year, Gore was his lead-in.

Tags: microsoft, asd, politics

On Wednesday, conservative radio host Michael Savage had this to say about autism:

…A fraud, a racket. You know what autism is? I'll tell you what autism is. In 99 percent of the cases, it's a brat who hasn't been told to cut the act out. That's what autism is.

I have to admit that I didn't write about this the moment I read about it. I had to cool down first. Mr. Savage should be congratulated. He's now one of only four figures in the media who have managed to get under my skin. (In case you are wondering, the other three are Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reilly, and Rush Limbaugh.)

Let's start with the assertion that 99% of autism cases are fraudulent. This figure is based on what, exactly? Does Mr. Savage have any scientific studies or educational experience to back this up? Has he personally conducted observation and surveys of autism-diagnosed children to verify the veracity of said diagnosis? No, he does what too many other talking-heads do. He makes up a statistic on the spot – a lie that his loyal listeners will begin repeating as fact.

He supports his hypothesis by citing minority asthma diagnoses.

For a long while, we were hearing that every minority child had asthma. Why did they sudden -- why was there an asthma epidemic amongst minority children? Because I'll tell you why: The children got extra welfare if they were disabled, and they got extra help in school. It was a money racket.

Of course, he fails to notice that concentrated minority populations are often centered most heavily around urban developments where air quality is generally poorer and temperatures are generally higher – compounding factors in the development of lung conditions such as asthma. He fails to note that the still-present racial economic divide gives many minority families less access to locations or products providing cleaner air. No, in his mind, minorities are thieves and doctors are supremely gullible.

He also fails to draw a parallel between asthma and autism that should be obvious. If autism, like asthma, is a minority-driven racket, why are the diagnosis rates among racially diverse populations not significantly higher than among Caucasians. Again, he is presenting his information so that his audience infers conclusions that are simply untrue.

Of the parents I come in contact with on a daily basis, those of my autistic children have some of the highest expectations. They are the most consistent, the most structured. They go above and beyond to ensure their children can function properly in a social world. In fact, if money was the issue, as Mr. Savage suggests, these parents picked the wrong disorder. Getting insurance to help with autism treatment can be a difficult task.

Are there misdiagnoses? Of course, especially since the academic and medical communities' understanding of autism is still evolving. However, it's much harder to misdiagnose autism and much easier to later catch a misdiagnosis than with some other learning disabilities such as ADHD. An autism label is not an excuse, nor is it a cop-out. It is a flag that this child does need help in specific areas, and the goal is that of independence – not reliance.

Mr. Savage wraps up with this jewel.

If I behaved like a fool, my father called me a fool. And he said to me, "Don't behave like a fool." The worst thing he said -- "Don't behave like a fool. Don't be anybody's dummy. Don't sound like an idiot.

You know, that's actually good advice. I just wish Mr. Savage and the uncounted other pundits with a venue to vent would take it. The world would be a quieter, less angry place, and the autistic population would enjoy that immensely.

Update: Gedblog provides some more commentary, and the author wonders what kind of backlash these remarks could gather from parents of autistic children.

via Media Matters

Tags: media, opinion, asd, education

CNN: Asperger's: My life as an Earthbound alien

Here's an interesting piece by by a CNN manager who – at 48 years old – has been diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome. I like how she wraps up.

I could tell you so much more, but instead let me share one last insight. Don't pity me or try to cure or change me. If you could live in my head for just one day, you might weep at how much beauty I perceive in the world with my exquisite senses. I would not trade one small bit of that beauty, as overwhelming and powerful as it can be, for "normalcy."

The Huffington Post: Flashback: Wright's Letter To NYT About Obama

This is a neat piece of history. The Huffington Post publishes a letter from the controversial Rev. Wright to the New York Times regarding their misrepresentation of him and his relationship with Barack Obama in an article they published on March 6, 2007 after Obama announced his bid for the presidency. It makes for a good insight on how news sources sometimes cherry pick facts and sound bites to make a story more sensational than it really is.



Ars Technica: Online Safety Begins with Parents, Not Laws and Government

Just a friendly reminder from the Department of the Obvious (not Ars Technica) that, indeed, parents are the most powerful influencers on children's lives, and they have more power to inform and protect their children than any other source.

The More You Know™



NYT: McCain Stumbles on H.I.V. Prevention

I find this exchange concerning:

Q: ...Do you think contraceptives help stop the spread of HIV?”

Mr. McCain: (Long pause) “You’ve stumped me.”

Q: “I mean, I think you’d probably agree it probably does help stop it?”

Mr. McCain: (Laughs) “Are we on the Straight Talk express? I’m not informed enough on it. Let me find out. You know, I’m sure I’ve taken a position on it on the past. I have to find out what my position was. Brian, would you find out what my position is on contraception – I’m sure I’m opposed to government spending on it, I’m sure I support the president’s policies on it.”

Tags: politics, video games, asd

I've heard or read this admission more than once: "A diagnosis for my child is basically a diagnosis for me." At this point, testing for autism or Asperger Syndrome is very likely to occur, and the parent will be supportive of the process. That might not have been the case prior to such a statement. In fact, there is a good chance this parent was resistant to evaluation of their child – an evaluation that might risk damaging that parent's sense of identity and normality.

In 1969, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross released her influential book On Death and Dying, in which she postulated that anyone going through grief will progress through a potential set of five stages. In short, the stages are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Despite how these stages are portrayed in popular culture, an individual does not have to go through all five stages, nor do they necessarily happen in the same order for every human. (Most people will, at least, experience denial and acceptance.)

Kübler-Ross applies these stages beyond death and dying. She claims any perceived catastrophic loss can bring about this cycle.

This is where autism comes in. Prior to the 1990s, autism was viewed exclusively as a profound disability often associated with extreme antisocial behaviors and mental retardation. After decades of research, the addition of Asperger Syndrome and high-functioning autism to the DSM-IV profoundly altered the landscape of autism. With this alteration came the realization that many adults may be undiagnosed, but they would likely remain that way due to the way special services in this country are handled almost exclusively through the school systems – most notably during the elementary years.

Autism and Asperger Syndrome usually have genetic links to the parents, most commonly the father, but I have seen a couple instances of mother-inheretied traits. It's very likely that one parent identifies more strongly with the child, seeing a younger version of him-/herself in the child. There is nothing wrong with the child because, "He's/She's just like me, and I've turned out okay." I don't type those words disrespectfully or lightly because, implicit in that statement, is a certain hold on reality and identity that an educator may be in the process of shattering.

Compare these phrases to the stages of grief.

• Denial: "There's nothing wrong with my child. They're just like me."
• Anger: "Why are you singling out my child? Why won't you give him/her a chance?"
• Bargaining: "Just wait a couple more years. I'm sure this is just a phase."
• Depression: "I don't know why I try. You must think me a terrible parent."
• Acceptance: "A diagnosis for my child is basically a diagnosis for me."

In all fairness, this progression could be applied to a parent coping with the realization that his or her child has any disability. However, in the case of autism and Asperger Syndrome, I think these stages can become much more pronounced. An educator isn't just asking a parent to shift his or her perception of a child. That educator is also implicitly asking the parent to take an inventory of self and everything he or she has viewed as normal for the past several years – whether or not either party is consciously aware of this internal warfare.

My plea is especially aimed toward educators – among whose numbers I am to be counted. This plea does not come from someone on the outside looking in; someone who is ignorant of the pressures and difficulties inherent in the current system; someone who views you as an enemy; someone who has never seen this painful process from your point of view. I ask you to look at that hesitant and resistant parent with the same eyes with which you look upon your own children, and see what is hiding underneath. Outwardly, he or she might seem belligerent, quarrelsome, and unreasonable, but buried underneath all of that may be a grieving soul who wants to cry out for help.

I remember riding in the car – a red Stanza – on an evening drive back from church on a peaceful interstate, and my fiancée (now wife), while having me grill her over some of the psychology materials she would be taking an exam on that week, suddenly slipped into the conversation, "I think autism could explain a lot of your behaviors." I never believed her. In fact, we would argue about it at times – until my little buddy Nick was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome during my second year of teaching. Then everything clicked into place. That journey took years. Don't expect a parent's journey of self-discovery to be any easier. An ingrained sense of self is a painful thing to shake. Reach out to the parent as you would a child. (Would you really just throw a bunch of badly copied handouts and impersonal informational packets to one of your students?) Understand the potential for grief, and always be ready with a soft answer.

Secondhand diagnosis is not the most pleasant way to discover something hidden within yourself. You, as an educator, can make the journey a little bit easier with a dose of understanding and patience.

Tags: education, asd

I know. Enough with the link-blogging, already, but the teaching schedule is merciless toward my online life. Hold tight. If we stick together, we'll make it out all right. Yes we ... you know.

ABC News: Autism Breakthrough: Girl's Writings Explain Her Behavior and Feelings

From the article:

"Autism is hard because you want to act one way, but you can't always do that. It's sad that sometimes people don't know that sometimes I can't stop myself and they get mad at me. If I could tell people one thing about autism it would be that I don't want to be this way. But I am, so don't be mad. Be understanding."

Just excellent.



Daily Kos: I Refuse to Buy into the Obama Hype

This is an incredibly well-researched post regarding legislation both Senators Clinton and Obama have been involved in and how these bills differentiate the candidates. This is good reading for anyone finding themselves having a hard time deciding which Democratic candidate to support.

I think, by know, you know which Democratic candidate I support. The question is, which Republican candidate do I like better? Inquiring minds...



The Huffington Post: Clinton, Obama And The Belief In The Magic Power Of Words

From the article:

Now, I agree with Clinton that it's important to look at how each of the Democratic candidates uses words and how rhetoric fits into how they've run their respective campaigns. And if you do, you'll see that one candidate does believe that words are like a magic wand: you utter them and reality changes. But it's not Barack Obama -- it's Hillary Clinton.

Clinton's use of words is disturbingly reminiscent of the way the Bush administration has used words: just saying something is true is magically supposed to make it true. Call it Presto-change-o Politics.

Macworld: Apple now No. 2 music retailer in the U.S.

This ranking includes brick-and-mortar locations by the way. I bet you can guess who's number one (shudder).

Tags: education, politics, itunes/ipods, asd

I don't often post negative experiences invloving people I work with because I don't want to embarrass anyone or cause trouble, but I want to write about my feelings toward a specific event that happened at work. Therefore, I'll just treat those parties involved anonymously. Like Dragnet. You know, to protect the innocent.

This last week was a rough one. I had to take a couple of sick days, and I hate taking sick days. Understand, an unanticipated change to my routine is never a Good Thing. Most breaks, half-days, and days-off are met with a certain quirkiness of behavior, but completely unforeseen sick days are the worst. My brain goes into this strange feedback loop of white noise and repeated patterns on sick days. I may lay in bed all day and get no sleep the night after – leading to further problems.

Wednesday, I felt like I could go back to school. I still was very hoarse and was speaking in a very manly register that sounded like a Caucasian Barry White. (Later in the day was worse. I began sounding like Michael Bolton!) I had stayed up far too late the night before, as I am doing right now, and I had a hard time getting myself around in the morning. Mornings are rough in general as it seems to take twenty or more minutes for mind and body to come to any kind of consensus as to what they are doing, but I think that is a familial trait more than anything.

I glanced at the clock as I rushed out the bedroom. I was going to be late – no question about it. A social seizure surfaced, but I managed to postpone it, so I could keep moving. Then, as I was on the road, I realized I had forgotten to put the trash out. Social seizure number two surfaced. I shouted at myself some, but I still had to stifle the meltdown for the sake of driving. (It's not like anyone else was in the car listening.) Shortly thereafter I realized I was going to be late to a meeting I was facilitating. Meltdown number three begins to boil. All of these surged through my brain within about twenty minutes of each other. This was not a Folgers morning.

Fast-forward to the conclusion of the meeting. Things went fine. Afterwards, a coworker asked me, "How are you feeling."

"Physically fine," I answered, immediately regretting my candor in responding.

"How are you mentally?" the coworker pressed.

"Very autistic today," I replied.

The coworker looked at me with an unreadable expression and said, "I'm moving away."

Cue repressed social seizure number four of the morning. Saying that reaction hurt would be like saying Les Misérables is kind of long. It would be like saying Alpha Centauri is a few miles away. It would be like saying Beethoven was slightly troubled. My brain screamed. My muscles ached. For a split instant, I wanted nothing more than to climb inside one of the room's cabinets and huddle away for the rest of the day.

But I didn't.

I postponed reaction again, so I could do my job. That's what you do when you are an adult with autism.

A highly-functioning autistic adult in the workforce – even one who works in education – gets no one-on-one help, gets no intervention strategies, has no access to a cool-down area, a weighted vest, nothing. Compassion can even be hard to come by. In this scenario, it was particularly devastating. My coworker is an educator! This is an individual who is familiar with IEPs and with accommodations. In theory, I could have confessed this to no better person. Still, all I received was a cold shoulder.

When an autistic individual manages to verbally communicate to you that he or she feels autistic, it is not meant to be a conversation-stopper. It is a cry for help – or at least understanding. Don't ignore that. Don't brush it off. In such an admittance, the autistic individual is attempting to reach out. Rebuffing such an effoort only serves to discourage such overtures in the future. It encourages social detachment and isolation. Don't be dismissive.

Tags: asd, education

I've worked with more children with special needs than I can count anymore. I've experienced things through my children that may be unimaginable to some, even some in education.

I work near project housing. Many of my children come from homes smaller than my living room. Some live in trailers with dirt floors. Some are homeless. Some travel from school to school as parents try to stay one step ahead of collection agencies while other children bear the greatest responsibility for raising their siblings because mom or dad may have to work two or three jobs just to keep food on the table. Some find their only meals at school.

I knew a child who would disrobe and defecate under desks when he felt scared. I've had young children who masturbate as the result of sexual abuse. One of my children would be regularly spotted at a neighborhood park past sundown because that was where she went when her parents argued. It stopped bothering me that she slept in my class. She felt safe there. I know a child who knows how to wrap joints because he's seen it done at home. I've known a six-year old angry enough to destroy classrooms. I just held him. Nothing he can do will ever reciprocate harm for harm from me. I had a child who watched his father gunned down by police during a drug raid. He was never the same after that. Neither was I.

I've worked with children who are bullies, who are bullied, who are autistic, who are bipolar, who are schizophrenic, who are brain damaged, who are epileptic, who have Tourette's, who are gifted and talented, who don't speak English, who have dreams, who have hopes, who want to survive, who want to die.

They all have stories. They all view reality differently, and I want to know what they see. Their perception of reality is their reality, and their behaviors and actions are all informed by that unique reality they live in. Their sense of justice and morality are formed in that reality. Their sense of community and socialization is formed within that reality. Their sense of self-worth and human dignity is formed within that reality.

I cannot dismiss that reality because, when I do, I dismiss the individual.

If I tell one of my literal autistic children, "Get out of town!" in response to something amazing he did, I cannot blame it on him when he runs away. His response is not invalidated because my perception of meaning differs from his. I cannot tell a child who is being bullied day in and day out that, "It's okay," because that statement condones the actions of the aggressors in his or her eyes. I cannot write off issues I do not want to deal with because I perceive reality differently than my children.

Before I can help a child develop past the issues that may hinder healthy development, I have to be willing to stare at the world through his or her eyes. If I blind myself to the sights they offer me, I can in no way help them. If I deny the realities they experience on a daily basis, I fail them. If I cannot love them for who they are, then who will?

Tags: education, asd

This makes me a little angry. The below quote is taken from the front page of the Autism Society of America:

A 2007 Centers for Disease Control report found that 1 in 150 children in America today have an autism spectrum disorder (ASD). ASA estimates that 1.5 million Americans and their families are now affected. Autism is a national health crisis, costing the U.S. at least $35 billion annually.

Translation: "We don't just view autistic children as individuals in need of love and guidance. We see them as burdens to their families and to the national economy!"

Nothing like monetizing and dehumanizing the individuals you claim to help within the first paragraph of your site's introduction. You call yourselves the "voice of autism," but I wonder how many children would introduce themselves as a statistic.

Tags: asd, education

Daring Fireball: The Amazon MP3 Store and Amazon MP3 Downloader

There’s very high “it just works” factor here. Music is easy to find, easy to buy, and easy to download once you have the Amazon MP3 Downloader installed. When you download music with Amazon MP3 Downloader, it simply shows up in iTunes, as you’d expect, with no manual importing or additional action required on the user’s part. Sync your iPods, and the new music shows up there, too.

This could be huge.



Look Me In the Eye

This is the blog of John Elder Robinson, author of Look Me In the Eye (due out today) about growing up with and continuing to live with Asperger's Syndrome. I'm going to be hitting our nearby B&N after school to check this book out!



Inhabitat: PREFAB FRIDAY: Zero-Energy MkLotus debuts!

Here's an incredible new eco-prefab home showcased on the lawn of San Francisco's city hall. Check out the Flickr photoset for some other great pictures.




EcoSpeak: An interview with ex-IPCC co-chairman Sir John Houghton

Mr. Houghton puts global warming in some historical perspective and still comes to the conclusion that our current level of carbon emissions are cause for concern. He also discredits our politicians' recent obsession with ethanol:

Ethanol from corn is not a good deal. Why it is being pushed by President Bush, I don’t know. It’s been disastrous for the price of corn and it’s not helping the CO2 budget significantly at all.

Rogue Amoeba: Radioshift

John Gruber has the best analogy: "Like TiVo for radio."



Finishing the fight: Ars reviews Halo 3

Ars Technica reviews Halo 3's single player campaign. I won't give away the whole review, but here's a snippet:

Suffice it to say that there are a couple of twists and turns that some may not have been expecting, and some familiar faces will come and go, to the surprise and shock of long-time fans. When the game is done, though, one thing is certain: fans will have the closure they were looking for.

Tags: software, environment, video games, literature, itunes/ipods, asd

This piece was a little harder to write than my previous reflection, and it was even harder deciding whether or not to post it. Unlike the story that reflects common issues I had in elementary school, this story is very accurate. Some very minor details have been fictionalized for the sake of narrative, and names have been changed, but this one is a very vivid memory. This narrative takes place nine years later than the first, and I was a sophomore in high school.

***

My mouthpiece is missing. The case for my mellophone is in its locker -- bay number 64, past all the woodwind lockers and next to the low brass. My instrument is in its case, but there is no mouthpiece in the case. I take fourteen steps to my French horn locker. It’s empty. Today is a gold day, no band or orchestra on gold days. They are both on blue days.

Marching band rehearsal begins in eighteen minutes. I cannot play without a mouthpiece. I cannot participate in practice without a mouthpiece. Conclusion: my French horn is at home. My mouthpiece is in my French horn case. My mouthpiece is at home.

Mom is at work. Dad is at work. Even if they could get off neither could make it to the house and to school in eighteen minutes -- now seventeen. I can feel myself starting to shake. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid. I know what’s coming, and I can’t stop it. Cold sweat beads up on my neck and shoulders, and the world becomes eerily silent around me.

Mom would take 12 minutes to get home (assuming she misses the light at 106th street, which is timed poorly) and up to 19 minutes getting back to the school -- more if the light at 98th street’s sensor is acting up again. That equals 31 minutes total drive time, not counting the time spent looking for the mouthpiece in the house. Dad would take almost 40 minutes to make it home -- completely out of the question.

Sixteen minutes. If I’m going to be on time for practice, I have to leave in one minute, and even that will cut it close. My friends have already left. I need to ask if anyone has an extra mouthpiece, but my voice has gone missing again. I hate that.

My hands are shaking so hard that I catch my finger in the latch when I close the instrument locker. I slip to the floor and begin rocking. How can I go to practice without my mouthpiece? I hate forgetting things! I hate how my memory seems to rely on location to work. I remember the mouthpiece in the instruments storage room. Why can’t I remember it when I’m someplace else?

My arms have scratches on them. I don’t remember those being there earlier. Scratches always appear on my arms when I’m upset. I look at my watch. Practice begins in two minutes. I’m too late.

I see the angry eyes in my mind of other band members and the directors as I imagine showing up late. I imagine the insults that will be hurled when they realize I’m not prepared to play. I’m immobilized by imagined cruelty, and my tumbling mind silently cries on the cold tile floor of the storage room.

I take 67 steps to the stairwell that leads to the practice rooms. I need to isolate. Now. 24 steps lead to the second level. Room 4 is small and has a piano in it. That’s the best room. The piano barely fits inside, but the strings vibrate very noticeably if you are playing in tune. I like that.

My trembling hand fumble with the door handle, closing it behind me as I collapse to the blue carpeted floor. I place my sweating face against the cold texture of the wall and try to slow my breathing. My mind is empty of thought yet full of fears, full of self-loathing. How can I be so stupid? How?

My head begins hurting, and I realize I’ve been hitting it against the wall. Pulling back, I clamber up onto the piano bench and begin playing chords. Harmonic intervals of two octaves, one octave, a fifth, a fourth, and a third produce the most calming vibrations. I hold the sustaining pedal down with my right foot and create the various major chords following this structure while I set my face against the piano’s smooth face board. I do this for a long time until I stop trembling, and my breathing returns to normal.

When I find my voice, I use a phone downstairs to call the band director I trust -- the one I’ve known since middle school. I leave a message for him saying I think I’ve had a breakdown, and I hang up. I don’t know what else to call it. I look at the clock. Practice will be done in 18 minutes. That’s where Dad will go to pick me up.

I stare fixedly at the ground as I take 3,154 very timid steps to the practice field, trying to be as small as possible the whole way, wishing I could somehow fold into myself and disappear…

***

The next day at school is terrible. Mr. Pike, the band director I don’t really like, tells me he never wants this to happen again, so it never happens again before marching band practice. On the upside, I’ll never forget my mouthpiece again because I’m not taking my French horn home anymore. If I leave it at school, I can’t forget it.

A saxophone player says that he’s sorry, but I don’t know why he’s apologizing. He didn’t leave my mouthpiece at home. Other students (and some adults) call me selfish, self-centered, irresponsible for not coming to practice anyway. The band director I trusted asks me how I think he felt getting that message at home, and how did I get his home number anyway? (It was in his own Rolodex on his desk next to his computer in his unlocked office.)

I know I’m not self-centered. I know I’m not irresponsible. I know I’m not selfish, but I have no answers. I don’t know what I am.

***

Asperger Syndrome was defined in the DSM-IV for the first time this very same year, but it would do me no good at the time. However, this incident was a turning point in that I finally became acutely aware of just how different I was from other people around me, and I began to develop the public character that I still rely on to this day. Great growth came from this one terrible event, and I finally began developing friendships and social circles through which I would later meet my wife.

Still, it would be another eight years before I really had myself figured out.

Tags: education, memoirs, asd

I was walking down the hall the other day, and I saw someone from whom I needed some information. I approached her, and she proceeded to walk right past me to greet someone else – completely ignoring me from my perspective. Completely frustrated, as I gave up and left, I muttered, "What am I? Invisible?"


original image by Jacek Freyer

One challenge I face (as do many other autistic individuals) is the question of how I get your attention. In many cases, your autistic friends, family, or students may not understand how to enter a conversation in a socially appropriate way. In my case, I catch myself just standing nearby waiting to be noticed – unfortunately making myself unintentionally unobtrusive. People don't ignore me. They just don't notice me.

Conversation skills are pretty challenging to teach to children in general, but the amount of unspoken interaction provides an even steeper challenge for autistic children and adults. At younger ages, consistent prompting and modeling as well as social role playing helps surmount those barriers. However, it can be difficult for an adult to relearn habits developed in those formative years.

It's important that teachers, mentors, and peers recognize the challenges faced by autistic individuals with conversation engagement. We can only help when we are consciously aware of those circumstances where are children are trying to get our or someone else's attention – especially if they are the silent, "wait-to-be-noticed" type. Otherwise, we may allow them to become invisible to us, and, if they are invisible to us, they may grow up being invisible to others.

Tags: asd, education

I wrote the following memoir as an assignment for a literacy conference session. It has received some minor edits (listed at the end) from the original but remains largely unaltered. This was scribbled in my notebook over a period of about twenty minutes in the middle of the night while my roommate snored loudly. This is actually fictional, but it is typical of my early school experiences.

There are twenty-two desks in the classroom, eighty-four ceiling tiles plus or minus a few (based on perspective, light arrangement, and wall irregularities), twenty-five cubbies with coat hangars, and one sink with a step stool in front of it.

Nineteen students (counting the author) occupy twenty-two desks. It takes three hundred eighteen steps to get to the cafeteria, eighty-six steps to accelerated math, twenty-eight to the sink, and fourteen to the right cubby – except a direct fourteen-step route makes for a bad day because “14” (like the letter “N”) is uncomfortable.

Teacher Miss Hiles is five feet, four inches (which equals 64 inches in all or 162.5 centimeters). She has been reading for four minutes or 240 seconds. Thirteen words have already begun with the letter “N.” If one more happens too soon – before the brain loses count – this won’t be a good chapter.

“Robert, are you listening?” Teacher says. That is not part of the story. It makes no sense. Ramona was just trying to convince her father to stop smoking after being caught throwing away his cigarettes. Ramona books are by Beverly Cleary who is a better author than Judy Blume because Fudge is annoying. There are three Ramona books at home, and “Robert” in not a character. Did Teacher mean “Ramona?”

“Robert, what did I just read?” What. When. Where. Why. They all sound the same. They are okay in writing, but they aren’t good out loud. They are okay in a book because the book gives the answer. “Romana, why did you throw my cigarettes away?” And Ramona gives a reason. “Why,” in this context, looks for motivation, but why can also mean different things. “Why, look at that rainbow!” Teacher says to listen for something called “inflection.” She once said sentences using different inflections, but they all sounded the same.

“Robert.” There is no Robert in this chapter! Romaona’s dad is Mr. Quimby. Here sister is Beatrice, but she calls Beatrice “Beezus,” and Beezuz is friends with Henry Huggins. Ramona was first introduced in the Henry Huggins books, and she got her own books later. This is called a “spin-off.” This fits Ramona because she likes to spin. She also likes to make curls go “BOING,” and she likes to make noise with Howie. Maybe Howie will get a spin-off.

“Robert, have you listened to a word I’ve said?” Teacher says louder to … to me. She takes some glasses out of a pair of hands. My hands. She puts the glasses on my face. “Robert, you’re daydreaming again. Can you tell me what we’ve been reading?”

Of course I can. I can tell her all about Ramona and her father, but my voice has gone missing. So I just look at my desk. I don’t expect to find my voice on the desk, but looking at the desk avoids all of the frightening faces looking in my direction.

Teacher shakes her head and says she will have to talk to my parents about my daydreaming again. It will be the fourth conference this school year. This is September. September has thirty-one days. Today is the twentieth. A Friday. Birthday was on August twentieth – number six. Six-years-old means kindergarten for some born in August, but I went to kindergarten at five. Something called an I.Q. (or “intelligence quotient”) is 135. I know that “intelligence” means how smart someone is, but “quotient” is a mystery.

I tried to find out by reading every “K” word in the dictionary (American: of or associated with the western hemisphere; Heritage: background or history) – all 2,180. It took five days to read them all. Anyway, it is likely that a quotient has to do with daydreaming. Dad says it has to do with division. “Division,” “daydream,” and “dad” all start with “D,” and you can use the letters in “daydream” to make “dad” as well as “yard” and “dare” and “made” and “ram” and “mare” and …

“Robert!”

I stare harder at the desk. Still no voice.

“Robert, if you are not going to listen, just go sit in the corner.”

I sit in the corner and try to be small. I’m very good at small. You’d be surprised at some of the places I can fit into. When I’m small, my voice comes back, so I count to feel better. Numbers (except for 14) are nice. “1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, …”



The next day we are supposed to write about a favorite book. My paper is about Ramona. I use a pen because pencils give me the bad kind of goose-bumps. So does chalk and velvet.

I write more than anyone in class. My voice was on my desk all along. It was hiding inside my pen.

Alteration from the original:

• The classroom originally had more ceiling tiles, but I felt a smaller number was more accurate. A part of me wants to go back and count.
• I double-checked my Ramona facts. Nothing to fix.
• I changed my teacher's name to keep her anonymous.
• In the original manuscript, I counted by fives. Though I liked fives, chances are I would have counted by odds if upset. They required more concentration and would have better served to take my mind off things. Primes serve that purpose well nowadays.

Tags: education, memoirs, literature, asd

Ars Technica: Autism May All Be In the Genes

I tend to be skeptical of all-or-nothing correlations in behavioral science. An individual may be more prone to autistic tendencies due to genetic makeup, but environment will still influence the development of a social disorder to some extent.

However, I do have to admit a biased viewpoint...



The WebKit Open Source Project: WebKit Project Goals

WebKit development is surprisingly transparent when compared to Apple as a whole. Check this out for an idea of where they are taking WebKit, the most prolific web content engine for Mac OS X.



Apple Reports Third Quarter Results

Overall, another very good quarter for Apple. Hopefully, they will get their products to comply with the new Energy Star standards by the end of the current quarter.

Tags: education, software, browsers, apple inc, asd, science

I remember being told by an ex-girlfriend way back in the days of high school, "Leave me alone, and don't talk to me anymore." Several years have passed now, but I've run into her on very rare occasions. Each time, I've had difficulty engaging her in conversation – not due to any ill feeling or bitterness but rather because of that long-standing order of "don't talk to me anymore." Even half a lifetime later, that imperative statement lingers in my psyche, and while I have a rational understanding that her statement is no longer binding, the part of my brain that latches on to it overrides said rationality.

How does this apply to our working with autistic children? Well, how many times have we caught ourselves saying something like...

• ...I don't want to tell you again to follow directions?
• ...I don't want to hear about dinosaurs anymore?
• ...Never sharpen your pencil without my permission?

All of these statements have weight in very specific timeframes and contexts. Unfortunately, our autistic child may be unable to make the distinction, and you may find yourself dealing with a meltdown during a later project about dinosaurs or the next time you give any directions. The child may end up doing no work when you have a sub because he or she cannot ask you to sharpen a pencil if it breaks.

An autistic individual can potentially be extremely literal and will apply statements made by teachers, caregivers, and parents in every context. When teaching children with autism, we need to be conscious of how we say what we do and how that child might apply our casual comments.

Tags: asd, education

About a year ago, I wrote this about autism and loneliness:

No matter how many people I am around, I am still very much alone.

Autism and Asperger Syndrome can be very lonely conditions. There are few points when an individual dealing with these labels will feel truly comfortable interacting with peers and acquaintances. Even when social interaction occurs, a level of detachment exists that impedes the communication between the autistic individual and the neurotypical individual. Parents and teachers are constantly looking for ways to help their autistic child branch out better and feel more comfortable in social situations – from peer buddies, to journals, to visual cues, and many other strategies.

One strategy that has made a huge impact with me is blogging. What you are reading right now is the single most comfortable form of social interaction I could possible have with you. I express and communicate things through my blog I might have difficulty with face-to-face (or face-to-shoes as the case may be). Blogging has helped my social development, plain and simple, and this improvement has been slowly filtering into other social situations.


Before you dismiss this intervention, consider this. If you have an aspie or a high-functioning autistic individual in your life, how much does he like to write? Chances are, the answer is, "a lot." Blogging is a great outlet for writing. Whether it's poems, short stories, nonfiction, daily journals, or something else entirely, you can put it on a blog. Suddenly, the writing is no longer in a private notebook. It's on the web for anyone to see!

Privacy can be a concern here. MySpace has especially received its share of bad press when it comes to individuals stalking our children. Here's the thing: it doesn't have to be MySpace. Blogger, TypePad, and LiveJournal are all examples of MySpace alternatives. Also, as the adult, you should set up the account under a username that tells nothing of the child's identity. You can control what information is included in the "About Me" section, and you can decide whether or not other people can make comments on the site. Blogging can be a very safe way of communicating with the world. Much of the stigma comes from the many people who use blogging irresponsibly.

During the life of this blog, I have posted numerous entries on presenting. I've reviewed an office suite and an operating system. I've discussed internet ethics, game ratings, the recording industry, and, of course, my experiences with Asperger Syndrome. What might your child accomplish? What voice might he or she discover that lay repressed in other settings? Give this a try. Set up a safe blog for your child. Give it some time, and see what kind of product is produced. You might even learn some new things about your own child.

Tags: blogging, asd, education

An autistic individual is "never wrong." There is a sense of rightness many autistic individuals have (especially on the high-functioning end of the spectrum) that can be difficult to shake once it sets in. If your autistic child is convinced they are right about something – no matter how wrong they might be in reality – he or she is not likely to peacefully accept being contradicted.


In these situations, argument will achieve nothing. Your child will eventually walk away frustrated, and you will as well. You won't convince the child they are in error no matter how vehemently you try. The child will respond in equal vehemence, so what to do? Do you allow the error to persist to avoid conflict?

Not long ago, one of my little friends in fourth grade was frustratedly "correcting" some pictures of spiders on his class' dry erase board. The spiders had eight legs, and he had it in his head that the spiders should have six legs. When a peer told him that the spiders were supposed to have eight legs, our autistic friend became loudly argumentative about the topic. Instead of joining the argument on the side of the correct child, the teacher merely disingaged the conflict and left the altered spiders alone.

Later, the teacher just casually brought up spiders again, and the subject of legs came up. A student answered that spiders have eight legs, and the teacher praised the student for the answer. Immediately, our autistic friend hurried over to the board and added two legs to the spiders he had earlier removed those same legs from. Separated from the situation of being confronted and challenged for his thinking, the child was able to recognize and correct his mistake.

If you have an autistic child who becomes stubborn about an untrue fact, immediate contradiction will not correct the mistake. Even if you show the child concrete evidence that proves the point, you have still accomplished nothing. All you've done is create a frustrating situation that serves to alienate your child from yourself. Instead, fight the temptation to argue. Disengage, and allow time for the child to cool down. Then, subtly guide him or her into discovering the error. More often than not, the child will accept being wrong if he feels he has discovered it himself. Remember, we adults have to be more capable of being calm and in control than our students may be capable of having problems. Let's not allow ourselves to be drawn into arguments that get nowhere.

Tags: asd, education

Slate: The Autism Numbers: Why There's No Epidemic

This article nails a lot of good points. In the grand scheme of things, autism (and the spectrum disorders to a greater extent) is a relatively new diagnosis. However, the lack of diagnosis does not mean it didn't exist in previous centuries.



Macworld: Apple reports record-breaking $1 billion profit

That's a big number. Of course these record-breaking numbers sparked a drop in Apple's stock price. I'll never understand Wall Street.



Indexed

I really like this blog. You'll either get it, or you won't. Regardless, it's unique.



Ars Technica: Wireless power sparks interest at CES

This could be really great for absent-minded people like me who always forget to plug things in.

Tags: education, technology, apple inc, asd

In Mark Haddon's book The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, Christopher simply states, "I see everything." In this, he encapsulates the problem many autistic individuals have filtering the information around them.



In some cases, higher-functioning autism is misdiagnosed as ADHD – and for good reason. With both cases, you have what appears to be a general lack of focus in highly stimulating environments, but the root causes are different. With ADHD, the brain has difficulties focusing in on any one stimulus at a time and begins cycling through various points of attention in the environment – both external and internal. With autism, the brain has problems prioritizing stimuli, and it tries to simultaneously process too much information, resulting in a jumble of inputs.

Every autistic child will likely have one sense that is more prone to this than others. Sight and hearing are the most common. In any setting where there is a lot of aural or visual stimulation, it is a good idea to begin monitoring any children you have with autism. If the brain becomes overwhelmed in its attempts to simultaneously process everything, the child may go into a social seizure. If you see signs that a meltdown is imminent, it's a good time to utilize any safe spot you have determined for that child.

Too many inputs can create a state of confusion within the mind of an autistic individual. I had one student once tell me, "I don't like it when everyone talks at once. It stops making sense." It may be difficult, but if you have an autistic student or child, be aware of the amount of information that may be flooding the child's senses, and look for ways to regulate that stimulation when possible.

Tags: asd, education

At home or in the classroom, an autistic individual needs a place of escape – someplace that feels safe and secluded when social seizures or meltdowns occur. One of the harder things for parents and teachers to accept is that an autistic social seizure is not a choice. This is not a case of throwing a temper tantrum because the child is upset. A meltdown is far deeper than that.


I've heard social seizures compared to a psychological Control + Alt + Delete, but, in some cases, it may be more appropriate to describe them as hard reboots. Many factors can lead to this reboot, and it is seldom one specific trigger that leads to the meltdown. A variety of stimuli begin to create conflicting processes in the brain, and they become impossible to sort out, prioritize, and deal with. The result is a social seizure.

When (not "if") these occur, it is important that the autistic individual be able to remove him- or herself from the immediate environment and escape to a safe place. If not provided, the child will often create a safe place, such as a corner, under a desk, or in between bookcases – someplace where external inputs can be limited and monitored. By selecting a safe place ahead of time, you create a predictable structure to follow that benefits both you, the child, and other students in the class.

While the student is in his/her safe place, it is also important not to force them out too early. Just like you can't go printing a thesis the moment you reboot a computer, it will take time for the child's brain to return to its normal functioning level. Once back, the autistic individual may be able to carry on as if nothing happened at all. Break the process too early, and a more severe meltdown or outburst may be the result.

Even among the most high-functioning autistic individuals, social seizures are a fact of life. They may grow more rare with time or medication (in more severe situations), but, regardless of how intelligent or rationale an autistic child may be, caregivers and teachers need to have a plan in place when that rationality breaks down. A basic step in that plan is a place of escape when meltdowns occur. Create a safe haven for the child where he or she can recuperate, and you will save yourself and the child a great deal of grief.

Tags: asd, education

"Look at me when I'm talking." How many times do we say that when trying to communicate with a child – even if we know full and well this request poses a serious challenge for that individual? Even I catch myself doing this, and I should know better.


When speaking with an individual with a PDD such as Asperger Syndrome, don't demand eye contact. While seeing the eyes may make us feel we are being listened to, the fact is, the other person is concentrating so hard on maintaining eye contact that he/she may be having difficulties retaining what you are saying.

In my experience (on both ends of this challenge), I've found that I can allow the child's eyes to wander freely, but maintain a close proximity. Asking the child to re-explain what you are saying can help confirm understanding. Do this every couple of sentences. Finally, Kneel down to his/her level. The child will have an easier time making occasional eye contact if you do this.

In addition to these tips, over time, guide the child in trying to look at a part of a speaker's face close to the eyes – the bridge of the nose, for example. Most people really can't tell a lack of eye contact if it is "close enough." This helps the individual fit in better at social settings without doing too much damage to those social boundaries unique to autism.

Remember, eye contact, or lack thereof, is not necessarily an indicator of attention. When it comes to PDDs, demanding eye contact may damage comprehension, so look for other ways to confirm and reaffirm attentiveness that don't involve breaching social comfort levels. However, every autistic individual is unique. My suggestions work for me, but they will not work for every individual. Persistence and patience will eventually lead to better communication as you grow to better understand your autistic friend.

Tags: asd, education

One of the more interesting aspects of working with Asperger Syndrome is that some of the qualities are very childlike in nature. In other words, you would almost expect any child to posses that given quality, but the aspie child will not necessarily "grow-out" of that quality as he/she reaches adulthood.

One such quality is that of literalness. Most individuals with Asperger Syndrome (and other forms of autism spectrum disorder for that matter) have a difficult time translating idioms, figures of speech, and sarcasm into the intended meaning. Furthermore, differentiating a rhetorical question or statement from a purposeful question or statement can pose a problem.

Three Examples

1. A mother is printing out an important document and runs out of printer paper. She calls to her son: "Can you run to the store and buy some more printer paper?" Forty-five minutes later, her son rather sweaty, the mother is handed a new ream of printer paper.

What happened? The child jogged to the store, bought the paper, and jogged back – exactly as he was asked to do.

2. A girl drops a bowl on the floor, and it breaks. Mom throws her arms up in the air and yells, "Well that's just great!" when she sees the mess. Hearing this, the girl proceeds to throw another bowl on the floor.

What did the girl hear? "That's just great!" Now you could probably read voice inflection into that statement, but the autistic individual may not be able to translate voice inflection in a meaningful way. Read the example again, and try to remove any inflection from your inner voice. Can you understand why the girl threw another bowl on the floor?

3. On a test, a boy reads the question: "Can you explain the theme of this book?" The student honestly writes, "No," in the provided space and proceeds to the next question. Later, he is shocked to see that answer marked as wrong.

Again, look at the wording of the question. "Can you explain..." The student answered the question, but he honestly misunderstood the meaning of that question.

Now, if I said each of these examples were 6-8 year-olds, you would shrug your shoulders and say something like, "Kids do the silliest things." However, what if these are all teenagers? Well, the first one is just dumb, I guess, and the other two may be mistaken as serious attitude problems.

A Simple Matter of Mistranslation

A child with Asperger Syndrome will be very intelligent in many areas, so much so that we adults who interact with them may forget those areas where they are still developing. They are not being smart-aleks when they fire off an answer to a rhetorical question. No attitude is intended when an unexpected answer is given to a request. It is just a simple mistranslation. You said one thing, the meaning clear in your head, but the receiver heard exactly what you said and took every syllable literally.

Examples like numbers two and three still throw me off occasionally to this day. I answer rhetorical questions all the time, and I (admittedly) have no clue how to pitch my voice to correctly use figures of speech, sarcasm, or rhetorical questions in my everyday conversations. In fact, I've given up on rhetorical questions so entirely, I couldn't even come up with an example of one in the above illustrations!

These language devices are very common in everyday speech – so much so that it would be a difficult conscious effort for many to avoid using one or all of them for an entire day, but don't assume that everyone who hears you understands your meaning. You may have listeners who only understand exactly what you say.

Tags: asd, education

April is Autism Awareness Month, so I thought it was about time I had a coming out of the closet (no – not that closet!) party for myself. Simply put, I have Asperger Syndrome, a pervasive developmental disorder closely associated with autism. To some of my peers and colleagues, this may come as a surprise. Others may have seen it from a mile away (as one told me when we were talking about this a couple of weeks ago). For most of my adult life, I have tried to hide behind a facade of being neurotypical, but I have finally come to terms with this enough to openly talk about it.

My History As An Aspie

The term "Asperger Syndrome" was not coined until 1981 (despite initial research being conducted nearly 40 years prior), and the diagnosis was added to the DSM IV in 1994. As a result, I was a freshman in high school before there was a category for my behaviors and social difficulties. During elementary school (in the 80s), you really fell into one of three categories: hyperactive, retarded, or "get over it." Autism at the time was considered a form of mental retardation, and you had to be pretty low-functioning to be labeled as autistic.

Since then, more study has been conducted on the broad spectrum of autism and related conditions – referred to as pervasive developmental disorders (PDDs). Unfortunately, this work was of no benefit to me as I struggled emotionally with the difficulties of my condition; I was the weird kid, a target for bullies, and a loner. I found more solace in my collections than in other humans. Mind you, this is not meant to create a heart-wrenching drama. I'm just putting things in perspective.

I became what seemed to be a very self-absorbed adolescent, which is a common perception of many individuals with AS. Friendships were rocky and short-lived. I absolutely could not handle rejection of any form, and I was slumping into deeper and deeper depression as I entered high school. I was a complete and total mess. I would even make up elaborate lies about my health or some other aspect of my life in order to create some kind of connection (even if it was a fraudulent one) with my peers.

Then something happened. My sophomore year in high school, I began emulating behaviors of individuals I felt were socially successful. Over time, individuals like Ben L. & Kevin S. at church became social role models (though they were unaware of their status), and I learned my facade – a facade I still implement to this day when I am in social situations. Internally, I was still a wreck, but I could talk a good talk, and that made school easier. My last three years at high school were great, and I even met my wife during this time period!

Interestingly enough, it was Crystal who, while majoring in psychology in college, first brought up autism as a possible explanation for my bizarre private behaviors – rocking ceaselessly, finger biting, repeating phrases, seemingly unpredictable outbursts, aversion to spontaneity. However, I had not experienced a language delay (one of autism's defining characteristics), nor did I seem to experience the physical seizures that sometimes accompany the condition. In contrast, my linguistic abilities as a child were quite pronounced, and I often read books far above my grade level.

I had been teaching for a year when I met a child who could have been my clone. Physically, emotionally, and socially, this child was me all over. He was a fifth grader, and his teacher (the talented and lovely Ms. Hill) was convinced he was autistic. His fourth grade teacher (the equally talented but not-quite-as-lovely Mr. Hall) shared the same suspicions. However, his parents were extremely reluctant to concede to testing. Ms. Hill did not want this child to enter middle school without the proper services in place, so she was persistent.

At the time, I was mentoring this child, and I was making as many discoveries about myself as I was helping this child with. If he was autistic, surely I had to be. We had a very good bond, and his parents were quite fond of my involvement with their son. Consequently, in mid-Spring, I sat down with his mom and dad and spelled out the fact that there was a good chance that I'm autistic. Their son was a carbon clone of my former self, and they would be doing him a disservice by not having him tested. They agreed.

When the test results came back, autism was not the label. Asperger Syndrome was, and, at last, I had my diagnosis. AS fit me like a glove, but I remained very private about it, confiding only in a handful of associates. I even kept my direct supervisor out of the loop until March of this year (and I've been employed in the same place for five years now). You see, I was grateful to finally have a clear picture of myself, but I've been terrified of how others would react.

Behaviors & Workarounds

Many behaviors associated with Asperger Syndrome permeate my life, and, at home, these behaviors can be very pronounced. However, in public, I can usually temper them enough to avoid looking too strange.

Talking to Myself. Let me set the record straight: I'm not actually talking to myself. I'm holding a hypothetical conversation with someone who's not there. For example, if I'm thinking through a problem regarding helping a child read, I may pretend I'm talking to one of our literacy coaches, and I try to verbalize how I think she would answer my questions or constructively criticize my ideas. Most of the time, I can avoid doing this when people are around.

Self Stimulation. "Stimming," Stereotyped behaviors, what ever you want to call them – I can avoid most in public except for the rocking. I usually just pretend I'm cold – which I often am anyway, but it has nothing to do with the rocking.

Echolalia. This has always been sporadic. I'm much more likely to repeat myself than I am to repeat you. If I do repeat you, I've learned to turn the voice inflection to sound inquisitive. It's like the old joke about psychiatry: turn the last word of your patient's last sentence into a question, and you sound interested.

Eye Contact. I'm looking at the bridge of your nose or your eyebrows. Most people can't tell the difference.

Literalness. I still have struggles with this. I answer rhetorical questions. I take sarcasm seriously (though I understand how to use it thanks to Peanuts). I'm pretty good at noticing idioms and figures of speech when they are used, but that doesn't mean I necessarily know what they mean. My wife finds endless amusement in this fact, and my reaction to the first time I heard the phrase "Quit Cold Turkey" is a running joke around our house.

Emotional Vacancy. I can emulate the proper voice inflections and facial expressions for most emotions. Empathy is still a major challenge to demonstrate. It does get on my nerves when the term "emotionless" (or something similar) is used to describe AS. We experience the very same emotions you do. We just express them differently, and we have as hard of a time reading your emotions as you do ours. It's not a lack of emotion; it's a lack of nonverbal communication interpretation.

Meltdowns. I prefer the term "social seizure" because that is exactly what these feel like. I can usually defer these when others are around. In other words, I can put it off until later. Usually, I become very quiet when a social seizure is about to hit, and I may seem completely non-responsive for a moment. Then, I'll pop back to being engaged. I haven't avoided the meltdown. It's merely waiting in the sidelines until I'm alone. Noise is a huge trigger for me, and I've been accused by colleagues of going too easy on my classes when they become rowdy. The truth is that I am trying so hard not to inappropriately overreact that my behavior swings to the polar opposite. This is actually a huge area of challenge for me working in an elementary school, and it is the sole reason I seldom accomplish much during my prep periods.

I could really go on ad nauseam here. Really, an individual with Asperger Syndrome may have deficient coping skills, but his self-help skills are in tact. Once I figure out that a certain behavior of mine may seem odd to peers, I can usually find a way to mask it. Please understand, though, that this does not mean I have eliminated the behavior – I can only keep my act up for so long. Sometimes I do social seizure in public. Sometimes I do stare at the floor while talking to others. Sometimes I do pick at my face or chew my fingers in public. My seemingly outgoing and personable facade is just that: a cover. It is an act that takes concentration and energy to maintain. Some days are easier than others.

The Trade Off

Do I view my condition as a disability? Yes and no. Socially, Asperger Syndrome has leveled a heavy price in my life. I have few close friends. Many of my peers view me as eccentric or strange, and I do not fit in well during social events. I have a hard time engaging others in conversation, and I am much more likely to eat at a table by myself than I am to approach others or be invited by others. I come of as a trifle self-centered because I will try to steer conversation to topics I am interested in – topics many others find dull or tedious. No matter how many people I am around, I am still very much alone.

On the other hand, I am very smart. However, I do have a hard time broadly applying acquired skills and knowledge. I was reading Beverly Cleary & Judy Blume at six and Tom Clancy & J.R.R. Tolkien by the time I was twelve. In middle school, high school, and college, I would test very high in math, even when being tested on material for which I had never received formal instruction. I just "get" computers. One could say I like computers more than most people (by which I mean, I like most computers more than I like most people). I hold my own when watching Jeopardy, and I'm better at Double Jeopardy than the first round; Old Testament names give me very few problems; I am a Scrabble freak.

In other words, Asperger Syndrome is really a trade off. My IQ hovers around 130-140. On the other hand, my unaltered EQ is probably <80. (I say "unaltered" because I am quite capable of acting like an individual with a much higher EQ for a few hours at a time.) What I've lost in one area of my development I've made up for in the other.

The End

So there you have it. I'm outed, as the saying goes. Hopefully this entry helps you understand me a little better, and I will continually try to find ways to improve my methods of handling my condition. I have no desire for a cure (if such a thing is even possible – a discussion for another post), and medication of any kind is very aversive to me. AS is part of who I am and part of my individuality – something I do not want stolen from me. Asperger is my buddy, and, now that we're all acquainted, I hope we can get along.

Tags: asd, memoirs

So I got this weird phone call a couple of night's ago. I was cleaning at the time – more accurately, I was fixating on some unusual spots on our kitchen floor – so the call caught me off guard. Slightly shaken, I picked up the phone with the usual, "Hello?"

"Hi, David. It's [some name I don't remember]. Blah, blah, blah..."

"Um, I think you have a wrong number. I'm not David, and I don't recognize your name."

Now, at this point, I expected the usual apology for a wrong number, and I was getting ready to hear a hasty "good-bye." Only, it didn't happen. The lady kept talking. I don't even know what she was saying – nor did I at the time – I was so knocked out of kilter by the fact that her voice was still going.

"Can I speak to your lovely wife?" My wrong-number-who-wouldn't-shut-up asked.

"Wife? She's out of town." At this point I should mention that I have a high-functioning ASD and was having a hard time making heads or tails of the situation. I didn't know why this person was still talking, clearly ignoring the fact tat I was not – nor am I now – David. I didn't know if I had perhaps misheard her name. After all, I had been fixating just prior to the call, so my brain might not have caught up with the auditory information I was receiving. All I could do was answer her question.

Presently, the woman went on to explain that my (David's?) wife had been invited to some party, and she had not RSVP'd. Things were still not adding up, so I ask for the woman's name again. She tells me, and I answer, "I don't know that name." By now, frustration was beginning to creep into my voice.

"Okay, whatever," my masked caller responded. "I'll talk to you later."

I hung up the phone, mildly confused, and wondering what the kitchen floor thought of the whole ordeal. I crouched back down with my Lysol and 409, getting back to my obsessive scrubbing when it suddenly dawned on me that the lady on the phone had thought I was lying to her. It made perfect sense – the way she kept going on after my first attempt to disengage, the "whatever" and the "I'll talk to you later." She must have thought I was just trying to avoid her! I couldn't clean for the rest of the night ... well, except for some dusting and vacuuming ...

Now I'm sure there is some moral to this story, but I haven't figured it out yet. It was so strange, though, that I had to tell someone about it!

Tags: silly, asd