Learning with the Experts

When I explain to people that I have Aspergers, the response can be somewhat polarised.  I am met either with a knowing smile and a slow nod, (as if this is mere confirmation of a long suspected fact) or with utter consternation and denial.  However, both camps can easily be united in disbelief when I mention the fact that I work in a school.  With teenagers.  Front of Class. As a cover teacher.  And in my spare time, help out at my son's primary school and with the local Cubs and Scouts.

It's too noisy, surely?  Too much social interaction?  How can you empathise?  Communicate?  Too stressful? What? No timetable?  Constant change?  Different students and different subjects every lesson?  Nobody on the Autistic spectrum would choose to do this!

I suppose it does seem strange, but let me explain:  I like working with kids.  I prefer to spend my time talking to kids than to adults.  Kids make much more sense.  They are honest (to a fault, like me).  They prefer honesty, but if they do lie, then it can't be hidden (like me).  They are full of wonder and curiosity (like me).  Their potential knows no bounds. They are brave, have amazing resilience, humour and kindness.  They do not judge.  They can always change their minds.  They don't dismiss anything as boring or valueless without trying it out.  They feel everything keenly and react honestly, feeding back instantly.  I could go on and on.

I love learning - It's essential to me, and I will never stop.  To be around people who are as honest as me, as open as me, as full of wonder as me, as fallible as me, as energetic as me, as silly as me (as anyone who knows me and my penchant for giant inflatables can testify!), and as much fun as a barrel of puppies, too - well. It makes adults seem a stuffy lot..

Ah, but those of you who know my previous incarnation of 'Graphics Specialist' working in Environmental Engineering, will wonder why I haven't always worked with kids...  Well, I worked with scientists then, and in my book, that's almost the same thing:  Wonder... curiosity... lack of social sophistication... sound familiar?

Yes of course, it's exhausting, yes it can be frustrating, heartbreaking, infuriating, but at school and cubs, I can be myself with the kids, and I know where I stand with them.  They don't placate, humiliate, undermine, dismiss.  They praise when they are impressed, they criticize when they are not.  It is clear to me when I have inspired them, when I have upset them, when I have amused them, when I've made a difference to them, and I collect the experiences eagerly.  It is easier than being around adults, and I learn more from them than I can in adult company.  I am learning about social interaction as they do - It is more inspiring than anything I have ever done, and when I see them growing up and learning how to manage in the world, it gives me hope for myself.

Charley shows off his Viking ship homework

Losing my Sparkle

I listened recently to an abridged reading of Chris Packham's 'Fingers in the Sparkle Jar' (I will read the full text soon) and was mesmerised and deeply affected  to hear another voice that has experienced life in a similar way to me... One that has responded with similar vigor and been hurt in similar fashion. To hear the question: "Were you a happy child?" answered with such passion and certainty: "O course not! How can any child be happy?" struck such a chord, as did his descriptions of the intensity, detail and clarity with which he sees and experiences things.

We Aspies can live isolated lives, so I sometimes forget that there are others like me out there.  It makes me swell with pride when I witness an individual surprising everyone and holding misconceptions up to the light...  Showing  people that they don't quite fit in that snug pigeonhole to which they were consigned....  Turning out to be more complex than just that familiar face.

It soon became apparent that there was much here with which I identified.  As I listened, Chris began to explain his motivation - his constant drive to be better, learn more... to 'win' as he calls it.  I am very aware that, in lieu of the companionship, support and kindness that comes with friendship, I tend to try to impress people with my hard work, commitment, knowledge - anything that I can achieve with purely intellectual or physical effort.  I never try to 'wrong-foot' people, but it's easy to do just that, simply by being enthusiastic, eloquent and capable: How can somebody with all 'this' be this sad, this isolated, this exhausted?  It doesn't make sense to most NTs, but it couldn't be more familiar to me.

Chris also talks about his decision not to take his life, at a time when this seemed the only option.  I was reminded that I have considered ways to "take a permanent rest from it" on several occasions through my life, and to hear another voice acknowledging the lure of just not trying any more... to give up... to lose... well.  On the occasions when I slipped into those really deep depressions, I would write lists of pros and cons for this decision as I did for any important decisions; looking at the available data, weighing the consequences.  I could never isolate the exact scenario, so the outcome was never certain... I could never be quite confident that everyone I knew would be better off without me.  I have come to believe that I have some worth over the years, mainly because I can't deny the continued presence of my incredibly patient and understanding husband, and my amazing little boy... I must be doing something right, as they say.

I am looking forward to reading the book in it's entirety, despite its uncomfortable content...

The natural world has always been a balm for me in difficult times, and I have an enduring love of birds, insects, marine life, dinosaurs, reptiles and much more.  I spend as much time as possible near the sea, its rocky, semi-deserted shores and the vast cloudy panoramas it offers.  I feel truly relaxed when staring at the life in a drop of pond water under a microscope or at the night sky through a telescope.  I marvel at the colours of a Rose Cockchafer's wing covers, sit, fascinated, by the actions of a wolf spider who has lost her egg-case...  This is the 'Sparkle Jar': These are the things that bring me joy, convince me to stay, these, and the opportunity to impart their beauty and importance to others, if I can.

Dial it down?

If I tend, in my musings, to linger on the things that are difficult, challenging or otherwise worthy of dissection and explanation, it is because I am eminently practical:  I want to fix things that are not working, improve experiences that are not beneficial... The ratio of difficulties to pleasures, however, can be a little one-sided so you'll forgive me if I guard the "good stuff" jealously.  Let me explain...

It has become a habit, over the years, to note every nuance, detail and minutiae of most everything I encounter, the main purpose being to try to avoid getting into trouble with people in one form or another. (I tend to edit out the mundane or uninteresting experiences, and this is sometimes a grievous error as my judgement of What's Important often differs from other peoples'... ) An interesting thing happens when you turn this skill to things that are less practical; just interesting, beautiful or elegant. 

To put it mildly, I can be filled with the most disproportionate joy when glancing at a reflection in a puddle (the overlapping images, the play of light, the colour combinations, subtleties of tone and shade and it's fleeting nature...)  A piece of music might bring me to tears at it's first hearing - the harmonies, mood and texture eliciting such a strong emotional response that I have to listen in stages.  Even a well crafted TV advert can draw me in - even if the product is of no interest and subsequently forgotten.  I seem to be especially sensitive to these experiences anyway, and I suspect the intensity of them is due in some part to the way my observational and analytical skills have been honed over the years.  I realise that many neurotypical people have a deep appreciation for music, or art for instance, but few will become obsessed with dissecting a particular shade of green or the sound of a person's name or a musical chord to the nth degree....

When I look up at the clouds, I am thinking not just of the form and colour, but the air pressure difference responsible for the air currents that are tearing, thinning, building or layering other clouds on it, the angle of the sun and the thickness of atmosphere through which it's beams must travel before they cast their altered light over the vapour.  I am thinking about the temperature at altitude and how the inevitable ice crystals are causing the halo that passes through it, the vast weight of water droplets causing the darkening lower edge, and so on....  The result is quite magical and sometimes even transcendent. 

A strong emotional response whilst listening to a particular piece of music is a more common shared experience but I count myself amongst the few who experience the full effect of every nuanced phrase, every scintillating rhythm, every  crescendo and cadence; regardless of the genre...  It puts me in  mind of Douglas Adams' Hitchhikers book when he describes the apparatus for 'appreciating' Vogon Poetry, (known to be the 3rd worst in the Galaxy) making sure that every detail of the experience is felt as fully as possible...

I suspect this is also why I can't bear One Direction.

A dull day in Clevedon - just as beautiful and fascinating as a glorious sunny day.