Time to Write

While I was doing pretty good keeping up with this blog since I started it, the fact of the matter is that I have been writing less and less and less recently. The reason isn’t that I don’t want to write nearly as much. Quite the contrary. The reason is that I’ve been very busy teaching of late.

I have been working as a substitute teacher this past school year. Through most of the year, I was subbing at high schools, about half in regular classes and half in special education classes. This was very low-demand overall for me. I could mostly sit and read, sit and write, and if I wrote anything that I could use for this blog, I’d transcribe it later.

However, since February, I have been working exclusively at a school in their BSC as an emergency sub. Becoming essentially a full time faculty member really changed the dynamics such that it became more difficult to work on things like my book or my blog. I have gotten some reading done, and I have written a few poems, but those were about the only things I could really work on given the time demands during the day.

Of course, when I get home, I have my wife and three children, with whom I get to spend some time between making dinner and doing freelance writing work. I have tried to do more and more freelance writing work precisely because of the difficulties I have had getting a full time job. At the same time, I am hoping my success will result in something full time there.

In any case, the summer is almost upon us, meaning summer break. For a sub, bad for the checkbook, but more time at least. I’ll be spending as much of my time as possible doing freelance writing work, of course, but I am also hopeful that I will be able to return to my novel and, of course, this blog on a more regular basis.

Reflections on Being a Student on the Spectrum

Having taught 2nd grade summer school Reading and Math, and now working as a sub, I cannot help but reflect upon my own elementary school education. I was always considered to be a very intelligent child by pretty much everyone, including my teachers. Any bad grades were considered to be laziness on my part.

One area in which I struggled throughout my years as a student was math. I particularly had a very hard time with word problems. I also had some problem with certain areas of multiplication, and fractions made no sense whatsoever to me until I took high school chemistry. I failed 8th grade math, made a C in Algebra 1 (Freshman), Cs and Bs in Geometry (Sophomore), a B in Algebra II (Jr), and an a in Calculus and in Trigonometry and Analytical Geometry (Sr). In college, I made a C in Calculus I, and I failed Calculus II so miserably that I managed to make a fairly low F even doing all of the extra credit.

Math in elementary school has now gone almost completely over to word problems. When I was in elementary school, tests would have almost all numerical problems, and only about 2 word problems. That meant I could miss the word problems (which I almost inevitably did) without failing the test. But today, the quizzes I have had to give involved nothing but word problems. Meaning there’s a very good chance that I would have been failing math well before 8th grade.

While there is no question that we need to teach children how to formulate problems (which is what word problems do), it doesn’t make a lot of sense to teach formulating math to children who cannot add, subtract, multiply, or divide. That is, you absolutely must have the mathematical skill in place before you can move on to mathematical reasoning and formulation of problems. The latter may be most important overall, but you cannot skip establishing the foundation.

Now it may be that this way of doing things is the best way for certain students. I won’t deny that possibility. But it’s coming at the expense of other children. And if this is true, then the way I was taught it came at the expense of the kinds of students who do well in the way math is taught today. There are trade-offs. In this particular trade-off, I would have been the one traded, from doing well enough in math to pass to failing very much earlier on.

Another thing I have noticed about education today is that it’s designed to be much more social. There’s more group work and “shoulder partners” and sitting together on a rug and so on. None of this is exactly inviting to anyone on the spectrum, and I certainly wouldn’t have liked school nearly as much if it had been run like it is today.

Indeed, though I was perhaps seen as highly intelligent but quirky (to put it nicely) as a child in the 1970s, I think there is little doubt that in the current school environment that I would have been identified as having something “wrong” with me. I would have been seen as refusing to participate and I probably would have had some quite negative reactions to a lot of this forced sociality (something perfectly fine for neurotypicals, who don’t find it forced at all). I would have likely been identified as having ODD, if not Asperger’s/autism. I probably wouldn’t have been identified as having ADD/ADHD, because I was never outwardly hyperactive (inwardly, I’m in a dead run almost all the time), but I would have likely been sullen and I wouldn’t have liked the classroom environment at all.

In other words, I think I would have done worse in school today than I did in the 1970s.

If it’s true that I would have done worse under the way teaching is done today, then we may have some explanation for why none of the education reforms we’ve tried have ever worked to improve scores. It’s because while the reforms help some children learn better, it ends up acting as an impediment to others. It also may explain the “rise” in ADD/ADHD and autism, since the way students are taught today seems to draw out many of their identifying factors.

But we ought to be a little disturbed that someone like me would probably no do well in today’s system. The system I went to school in put me on the path to succeeding in college and graduate school. I fear that this system would have had me identified as a problem student and perhaps even having the autism I do in fact have. That is a problem because even though there is a lot of rhetoric around people with disabilities being able to succeed, the fact is that nowadays we are put on a pathway to “succeed” outside of a college trajectory–mostly because we are left unprepared to go. My brother, who has dyslexia, was discouraged from going to college in high school–and he now has a B.A., an M.A., and an M.F.A. You cannot tell me that autistic children aren’t discouraged, directly or indirectly, from going to college.

What is worse is that, if I am right that the majority of advancements in the world were made by autistics, then we are doing a terrible disservice to the world at large by creating an educational system that educates perfect copiers well, but leaves reformers/inventors/creators on the sidelines.

A Proposal for Education Reform

All teaching should be structured so that autistic children can learn the material. Because if an autistic child can learn it, a neurotypical child will be able to learn is using that method as well.

That means anchoring language to images and repetition.

But it does not work the other way around. What works for neurotypical children won’t necessarily work for autistic children.

Coincidentally, both do best in a Montessori school.

Progress in Language Skills

Recently Daniel has been showing the degree to which he has been making progress in his language skills. Two areas in which he has shown improvement have been the initiation of conversations and the use of figurative language–two areas typically difficult for those on the spectrum.

Anna’s mother recently had a surgery, and we had talked about it a little bit around the house. When Anna’s mother came up for Thanksgiving, as soon as she sat down upon arrival, Daniel went up to her and asked her about her surgery, and then told her he was happy she was doing better. This was the first time Daniel had ever initiated a conversation. It wasn’t the first time he started talking to someone–but simply starting to talk to someone isn’t the same as properly initiating a conversation. Daniel will ask you questions about sharks or Star Wars or planets, but he’s not going to ask you about how your day went or, well, pretty much anything at all about you. So him asking his grandmother how her surgery went–and doing it on his own–was major.

The other one happened yesterday. I was having the kids clean up their rooms and the toys scattered throughout the house, and finally Daniel decided he was finished. He announced that if he continued cleaning, in 5 minutes he would blow up. I told him I wanted to see that, so keep cleaning for 6 minutes. He said, “I’m not going to actually blow up. It’s like saying I’m hungry enough to eat an elephant. If I did that, I’d die. Like the old lady who swallowed the horse.” I told him, “Oh, then, since you were just being hyperbolic, keep cleaning.” He gave a huge groan–which he does any time you “got” him–and he finished cleaning.

The significance here, of course, is that he not only used metaphorical language–hyperbole is of course metaphorical–and use it correctly, but was able to explain it. That doesn’t mean he’s now going to get that people are being metaphorical and will no longer stop taking people literally (I’m a poet, playwright, and fiction writer, dealing with metaphors all the time in my reading and writing, and I still take people literally when I shouldn’t), but he’s on the way to doing it less often. It’s important to understand that people don’t always “mean what they say” in this sense.

Daniel receives a variety of special education services at his elementary school, Arapaho Classical Magnet, including speech. A good speech teacher and a good special education program in general will get results, and I think we’re seeing some of those results in Daniel’s development of these skills. After all, among the foci of his ARD is being able to initiate conversations. That’s not something I have tried to work on with him, though I have tried to help him with non-literal language (something I’m better with because of my being a language artist, while I still struggle with initiating conversations outside of bombarding you with my interests). So I’m glad at the progress his teachers have made with him, and I think it’s important to give credit when it’s due. After all, our first instinct often seems to be to just complain when something goes wrong–and perhaps we need to focus more on giving credit when something goes right.

Why I Am an Expert in Autism

I do not have a degree in psychology or neuroscience with a concentration in autism. So what, then, makes me an expert in autism?

First of all, not having a degree in something doesn’t make one an expert–or prevent you from being an expert. There are plenty of ignorant fools with Ph.D.s. And while I wouldn’t want to go so far in describing most neurotypial experts in autism, I would have to insist that there is a certain degree in which they are necessarily and irrevocably ignorant, and that is in understanding autism from the inside, in how it’s experienced. Interpreting behaviors without understanding the inner experiences that lead to those behaviors will often lead you to the wrong conclusions.

A favorite wrong conclusion is that autistics don’t have a theory of mind. This is something which I have written about before and refuted. In fact, it we autistics could posit that because neurotypicals didn’t think like us, they didn’t have a theory of mind. Yes, I often don’t know how you’re thinking or why you’re doing something, because it would have never occurred to me to do or think that way. For the longest time I simply thought everyone else was simply stupid and irrational. Since I found out I am on the spectrum, I’ve come to realize everyone else’s thinking is normal and it’s mine that is on the long tail. That is, neurotypical people think in neurotypical ways, and I think in autistic ways, and some of those ways overlap, and some of them don’t, and that’s okay.

But how does any of this make me an expert in autism. Well, an expert is simply someone who knows a lot about a subject. I have done a great deal of research on autism–and you need to keep in mind that my idea of research is formed by my degree in biology and my Ph.D. in the humanities. I don’t just read a few popular books on autism, but rather have read a great many scientific articles on it. I would be willing to put my knowledge and understanding of autism up against anyone with a Ph.D. who studies autism. More than that, because of my expertise in complex network processes, I can bring that knowledge to their knowledge and expand on it–as I indeed have. More, I can take all of this data and interpret it through my own experiences, explaining what the data really means.

Many people desperately need the kind of information I can provide from my expertise. Scientists who study autism certainly do, because I think a great many misunderstandings about autism are promulgated because a behaviorist approach is being taken to study autism. Special Education teachers especially need to understand their students from my perspective. Perhaps especially those who are dealing with nonverbal students.

For example, I have been substitute teaching lately, and I almost always pick the SpEd positions. Which keeps me working. Of course, these positions are always with either a teacher or a paraprofessional in the classroom, so I am really mostly backup for the person who knows what they’re doing with that classroom. Taking these positions means I have gotten to observe students across the spectrum as well as what happens in SpEd classrooms up close and personal. While everyone working in the SpEd classes I’ve been in are doing their very best, their very best does not have a foundation in a real understanding of their students–perhaps especially their autistic students.

A recent example of this involved a non-verbal autistic girl at a high school. The teacher (I was subbing for the paraprofessional) said she thought the girl should get her hearing checked because when she was watching a video on the computer with the headphones on, she would always turn the volume way up. I pointed out that autistic hearing is actually backwards to neurotypical hearing. For a neurotypical person, the brain turns down the volume on background sounds in order to hear the foreground sounds better. This is sort of the very definition of focus.

With autistic hearing, there is no distinction between background and foreground–and often, we hear the background better than the foreground sounds. To hear the TV when everyone is at home and making noise, I have to turn the TV up to around 80 (out of 100), but when everyone is in bed and there’s no noise whatsoever in the house, I can hear the TV perfectly at 23. Daniel’s hearing is so sensitive that, when he was around 4-5 years old, he would cry that he couldn’t go to sleep because he could hear the airplanes overhead. While we live in the Dallas metroplex, we don’t live anywhere near either of the airports. You wouldn’t hear them.

Once I explained these things to the teacher, she understood what was going on. And she further told me that that explained a few other things, though she didn’t go into detail about those other things with me. Indeed, understanding the autistic experience of the world does go a long way to explaining many of our behaviors. Those experiences are fairly universal, even if they are on a spectrum. But if you understand even the cases that don’t result in someone who is non-verbal and not potty trained as an adult, you will understand many of the behaviors of those at the most extreme end of the spectrum.

So yes, I am an expert in autism. I am the kind of expert people ought to be searching out precisely because my expertise isn’t just academic, but equally experiential as well.