Written by Emma's sister Florence*
*Name has been changed at writer's request
Disclaimer:The views and opinions expressed in this blog post are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of ClarityWorks or Emma Thistlethwayte. Any content provided is for informational purposes only and should not be construed as professional advice.
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My sister Emma asked me to write an article on my experience of being autistic in school. Please allow me to preface it with some YouTubers who devote videos to this experience: @HowtoADHD, @YoSamdySam, @dsathreads, @NeurodiverJENNt, @ADHD_love, and finally @jaidenanimations–a popular animator who was also recently diagnosed with autism and ADHD and has several videos on her school experience that are eerily similar to mine. If you're wondering why I have included ADHD YouTubers, it's because there is much overlap between the autistic and ADHD school experience.
Let's begin :) The first thing you need to understand is that, even though I knew I was obviously different from my classmates, I almost never thought to attribute my difficulties in school to the fact that I was different. I almost always perceived my difficulties to be my fault and, therefore, mine to solve. I didn't ask for help, partially because I believed that no one could help me and partially because I was terrified of being judged. I was terrified of being told that the way I innately function was wrong. It was far better to cling to pride and solve my problems myself. If I failed, it would be on my terms. It would be because I was lazy or unfocussed or uninterested, not because I was 'different', not because I was innately 'wrong'.
Let's begin :) The first thing you need to understand is that, even though I knew I was obviously different from my classmates, I almost never thought to attribute my difficulties in school to the fact that I was different. I almost always perceived my difficulties to be my fault and, therefore, mine to solve. I didn't ask for help, partially because I believed that no one could help me and partially because I was terrified of being judged. I was terrified of being told that the way I innately function was wrong. It was far better to cling to pride and solve my problems myself. If I failed, it would be on my terms. It would be because I was lazy or unfocussed or uninterested, not because I was 'different', not because I was innately 'wrong'.
Here is a typical day at school for my past self.
I walk into school grounds with my wheelie bag. I like to read, and a wheelie bag carries more books without being heavy or hot on my back the way a backpack is. I have trouble reading one book for too long, so I carry two books at all times as well as a large dictionary because I can't read past a word I don't know without looking it up (and smaller dictionaries don't have the words for the kinds of books I read–this was before smartphones).
Sure, I'm the only student in the school with a wheelie bag, but everyone is different.
I get teased for the wheelie bag. People think it's funny for some reason, even though it's more efficient.
First class is maths. I like maths because solutions aren't open to interpretation. I'm above average at maths but I have points deducted for 'not showing my work'. When I do, they say it's not the proper way to show work. I try to explain that this is how I solve it. They say to solve it their way. But their way takes me much longer. I can't write that fast. But I can't tell them that; they'll want to know why, and I don't have an answer.
I'm the first to orally answer a question the teacher asks. I'm proud of myself. But another student says she can see the calculator hidden in my pencil case. I didn't use my calculator; why would I use my calculator when the point of the exercise was to do it by pen and paper?
It's now morning tea. The library isn't open during morning tea, so I find an empty classroom and eat out of sight of the door. It was easier in my last school when I had a group of friends, but I'm not quite sure how that happened and my attempts at socialising are more likely to engender enmity, so isolation is safer. Besides, I'm at a good part in my book.
English is next. You'd think I'd be good at English with all the reading I do, but I'm terrible. We've started a topic on media literacy and I fail every question. They're asking us to comment on the body language of a shirtless soccer player. I have no idea how the other students are coming to their conclusions. Later, when I'm home, I read a book I borrowed called 'Allan Pease Body Language' and ask my dad what taking one's shirt off during a soccer match means. Dad says soccer players sometimes exchange shirts at the end of a match. After two-and-a-half hours, I determine that the soccer player could not have removed his shirt for that reason, because the match was still in session and his posture matched one of Allan Pease's diagrams for 'dominance' or 'tension' or 'aggression'. I don't get my other homework done that night.
It's now lunch! The library is open and I feel safe for the first time because the environment is supervised and, unlike an empty classroom, I'm allowed to be here. I'm hungry (you can't eat in the library) and I need to use the loo. I decide to eat my lunch after school and use the loo after the bell rings. Yes, I will be late for class, but I'm less likely to have a negative social interaction while students are distracted.
Final period is sport. I'm so glad sport is at the end of the day, because I detest sitting at a school desk after sport while my body is still sweaty. Why doesn't that bother anyone else? Sometimes I feel like I could just scream at the teacher and run out of the classroom, tearing off my skin.
My actual sport period used to be at the beginning of the day but when sport was switched to dance for my class, I refused to join in. I couldn't join in. Sport was fine, but dancing? My body refused to do it. Like it was made of stone. I didn't want to admit that dancing was something I couldn't do, so I just pretended that I didn't want to. Eventually, however, they must have figured me out, because they switched me into another class that still offered sport for that semester.
Home time. I'm exhausted. Other classmates go out after school; I don't know how they do that. I usually nap when I get home and play video games. I'm tired of reading by then. I mostly don't do homework at home. When I do, it's for hours. On the rare occasions that I actually finish assignments, I do very well! Mostly, however, I submit incomplete assignments with some really good sections. So, overall my grades are average or above. However, the teachers say I have potential.
I wonder when I'll figure this whole school thing out. I know I will eventually, if I do my best. I'll get excellent grades and go to uni and become a doctor. Then I'll make friends because by then I'll be someone useful and important. I'll have a lover too because by then I'll want to. I don't know why I don't like people in that way now and I don't care to know; I don't have time, anyway: school is hard enough.
Sure, I'm the only student in the school with a wheelie bag, but everyone is different.
I get teased for the wheelie bag. People think it's funny for some reason, even though it's more efficient.
First class is maths. I like maths because solutions aren't open to interpretation. I'm above average at maths but I have points deducted for 'not showing my work'. When I do, they say it's not the proper way to show work. I try to explain that this is how I solve it. They say to solve it their way. But their way takes me much longer. I can't write that fast. But I can't tell them that; they'll want to know why, and I don't have an answer.
I'm the first to orally answer a question the teacher asks. I'm proud of myself. But another student says she can see the calculator hidden in my pencil case. I didn't use my calculator; why would I use my calculator when the point of the exercise was to do it by pen and paper?
It's now morning tea. The library isn't open during morning tea, so I find an empty classroom and eat out of sight of the door. It was easier in my last school when I had a group of friends, but I'm not quite sure how that happened and my attempts at socialising are more likely to engender enmity, so isolation is safer. Besides, I'm at a good part in my book.
English is next. You'd think I'd be good at English with all the reading I do, but I'm terrible. We've started a topic on media literacy and I fail every question. They're asking us to comment on the body language of a shirtless soccer player. I have no idea how the other students are coming to their conclusions. Later, when I'm home, I read a book I borrowed called 'Allan Pease Body Language' and ask my dad what taking one's shirt off during a soccer match means. Dad says soccer players sometimes exchange shirts at the end of a match. After two-and-a-half hours, I determine that the soccer player could not have removed his shirt for that reason, because the match was still in session and his posture matched one of Allan Pease's diagrams for 'dominance' or 'tension' or 'aggression'. I don't get my other homework done that night.
It's now lunch! The library is open and I feel safe for the first time because the environment is supervised and, unlike an empty classroom, I'm allowed to be here. I'm hungry (you can't eat in the library) and I need to use the loo. I decide to eat my lunch after school and use the loo after the bell rings. Yes, I will be late for class, but I'm less likely to have a negative social interaction while students are distracted.
Final period is sport. I'm so glad sport is at the end of the day, because I detest sitting at a school desk after sport while my body is still sweaty. Why doesn't that bother anyone else? Sometimes I feel like I could just scream at the teacher and run out of the classroom, tearing off my skin.
My actual sport period used to be at the beginning of the day but when sport was switched to dance for my class, I refused to join in. I couldn't join in. Sport was fine, but dancing? My body refused to do it. Like it was made of stone. I didn't want to admit that dancing was something I couldn't do, so I just pretended that I didn't want to. Eventually, however, they must have figured me out, because they switched me into another class that still offered sport for that semester.
Home time. I'm exhausted. Other classmates go out after school; I don't know how they do that. I usually nap when I get home and play video games. I'm tired of reading by then. I mostly don't do homework at home. When I do, it's for hours. On the rare occasions that I actually finish assignments, I do very well! Mostly, however, I submit incomplete assignments with some really good sections. So, overall my grades are average or above. However, the teachers say I have potential.
I wonder when I'll figure this whole school thing out. I know I will eventually, if I do my best. I'll get excellent grades and go to uni and become a doctor. Then I'll make friends because by then I'll be someone useful and important. I'll have a lover too because by then I'll want to. I don't know why I don't like people in that way now and I don't care to know; I don't have time, anyway: school is hard enough.
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