In my last post I wrote about highschool and what it can be like when you move to a new one.
Based on my own personal experience in highschool I wasn't looking forward to week 3 of our theatre company's highschool program. My hypothesis was that by week 3 the kids would have decided I was weird and to be treated so. I won't lie, I expected to be the subject of various rude comments/jokes (mostly made just out of earshot so that no-one would get into trouble).
Our 3rd excursion to the local highschool working with our theatre company was a pleasant relief and enlightening. The kids were even better than week 2. We weren't the butt of cruel jokes and snide remarks. The students enthusiastically worked on their drama activities with us as though we belonged. There wasn't just a half-hearted respect being shown out of courtesy to the people visiting their school, but rather and obvious respect for each member of the theatre company present at the workshop. While the students were able to observe and identify ways in which each of us differed from the norm, we were not ridiculed, just accepted for who and what we are.
Of course, years of ridicule and school yard bullying makes a person cynical about supposedly positive experiences. I fit this category. Even with the students happily engaging and sharing with us I still held out on my acceptance of the positivity of the situation until right at the end when 4 students were interviewed about their experiences working with us. All four learnt a lot about the autism spectrum, clearly did not view people with a diagnosis as less capable or valuable ('different' was the word they most used), they all said it was a positive experience and that they were glad that they had the opportunity to meet with people who see the world from a different perspective. I was particularly heartened, when one of the boys did his interview, as I had been of the impression that he was not particularly keen on our introduction to his 'slack class'; he was just as positive as the girls.
Apart from discovering that "Week 3" didn't have to be the nightmare that it was for me when I really attended highschool, I had a big revelation. Being more than a decade older than the kids in the class, and not actually being part of their class, I was able to observe their interactions. I saw how friends in the class teased each other as a way of communicating and getting along. As an adult I could recognise that, but I thought back to when I was in school and realised that even at 16 years of age I hadn't yet developed the skill to tell when someone teasing was deliberately being mean or being socially friendly. I still haven't fully mastered this skill, but 10 years ago I couldn't tell at all. Seeing these interactions with a new level of social maturity made me realise that while there were definitely people in school who were mean to me and made life hell, that there were not nearly so many of these people as I thought: A lot of the times I felt like someone was being mean, I now realise they were probably trying to be friendly. Now I wonder what these people thought when I gave reponses to what I perceived to be insult. All I can think is that it would have been just as confusing for them when they got an unexpected reponse from me (and probably much easier in the end to not try and include me and to leave me alone).
It was nice to have a "Week 3" that didn't leave me traumatised and tearful.
Now I just need to work out how to tell what is friendly jest and what is not when I am interacting with peers my own age.
Sunday 8 August 2010
Wednesday 4 August 2010
Highschool Reunion
So the subject "Highschool Reunion" possibly isn't the most appropriate subject line for this particular entry. I considered "Back to Yesteryear", but was wary of any romantic connotations it may have.
I'm nearly 27 years old. Given that I haven't done a teaching degree, a local highschool isn't where you would expect to find me; yet, tomorrow morning, that is where I will be.
In April I joined a theatre company. The name of the complany is "Company @" (for Company Autistic Theatre). As far as we are aware, we are the only theatre company in the world where all performers have an autism spectrum disorder. Recently our ensemble performed for the general public for the first time. Our play "Framed Out" gave a comedic insiders view into the lived experience of people on the autism spectrum, using minimalistic theatre.
Since our performance, our manager and director were able to secure funds for us to develop a program for highschool students. In the program we work with students from local highschool in developing scenes that relate to autism in schools. For the purposes of this program 4 out of our ensemble of 12 actors were selected to work on the project. I am one of those 4.
Initially our project involved just the ensemble members and our director going over events from our own highschool experiences that we could dramatise for the sake of bringing some initial illustrations to the students. My own experience, involving a nasty prank with a valentines card, was one of the scenes we worked on. Working in our safe little group was comofortable.
You think by this age I wouldn't think twice about going into a highschool, but as the day approached for our first session with the students (grade 10) I became more and more nervous. I realised that despite being more than a decade older than the students that I was just as terrified of them, and how our interactions might pan out, as I was of people when I was in highschool. If anything I was more nervous, because in highschool I didn't have the insight of today knowing that I in fact am the on who is not normal; back in highschool, I simply thought I was superior to many (not all) of the people who tried to ridicule and torment me.
Our first session with the students was good. They were reasonably well behaved and participated with a safe level of enthusiasm. Having been to 10 schools during my pre-university career, this first session reminded me of the first day at a new school. On your first day at a new school people haven't gotten to know you very well, most will let differences slide for a short period of time (making the assumption that it may be due to new-kid-nerves). People are nice on the first day, people are welcoming.
Last week was like week 2 at a new school. Without actually doing anything in particular your differences have been noted. Whether people can pinpoint it or not, it is obvious that you don't interact or think the same way as the crowd. And so the crowd sticks closer together. When the crowd sticks closer together, they don't necessarily do anything to actively exclude you, but you get the feeling you don't belong (and perhaps you should find your own space, away from them, to socialise/play etc). Everyone is still civilised, and this is perhaps your only opportunity to avoid the social slum of the playground. If you can redeem yourself and minimise the expressions of your personal quicks and autistic idiosyncracies during the second week, perhaps the crowd will relax and count their initial opinions about your difference as being too quickly judged.
Tomorrow is week 3. Tomorrow the mini ensemble from Company @ will return to this particular local highschool. I don't think I magically redeemed myself from the plight into social isolation last week. I found myself just as confused by the interactions of the students as I was in highschool. How do they decide who is cool? How do they decide when something someone says is funny or not (there don't seem to be any consistencies). What makes them choose some students over others to work with. How do you get them to listen to your ideas too.
I don't think any of the students there would have had a clue of the degree to which I once again felt like I didn't belong. The truth is, now I don't belong... But my mind wondered if an extra decade of life would have brought me to a point where I could be one-up on the social interactions of a group of 15 year olds. Alas, it hasn't. I have no doubts that I have achieved more academically in the past decade than the majority of this particular class of students we are working with will achieve in the next 10 or so years of their life; but none of that changes the fact that in that decade I have failed to even master an adolescent understanding of certain social norms.
While it doesn't particular matter to me if this group of students accept or include me, the situation has caused considerable thought and reflection. When I was their age I thought a decade filled with abundant tertiary education such as what I have undertaken would obliterate the obvious social difference I display. I was wrong, and it was disheartening to discover this. I'm not sure I want to fit into the 'normal' social code, but I'd like to think if I did, I could. I remember being told when I was in highschool that once I was qualified etc that my peers would look up to and respect me - I was lead to believe the social side would hold far less weight (that was so misleadnig of the well meaning adults who instilled that message into my then adolescent mind).
So back to tomorrow. Tomorrow is week 3. Week 3 of every new school I was enrolled in went something like this. People had already worked out there was some level of difference. There were a few kind souls who looked kindly upon the social misfit and offered brief periods of supportive recognition (while appreciated, it was also understood on my part that these offerings of kindness were motivated out of pity for the one who couldn't manage to attain reasonable social status alone). Inclusion was on the basis that interactions with me would somehow benefit the group. Just as quickly as these brief periods of inclusion started, the longer periods of outside social observer would take over. In week 3 no-one would be explicitly mean, but things would be on the build to an attack of the vulnerable; this building did not have to be announced, and in all honesty, the waiting for whatever prank or ridicule was being planned for was worse than the actual insult itself. Week 3 was once of the hardest weeks, because after that the exclusion and nastiness would reach a level at which certain protectors could recognise and address it: In week 3 it all remained below the surface, rumbling and threatening like a volcano ready to errupt.
How do I feel about tomorrow. Nervous. A little bit stuck in memory lane (and desperately trying to pull my feet out of the mud before I get there tomorrow so that I don't go in there and drive the situation into negativity through my own fears). I had forgotten the anxiety of being in highschool until our return 3 weeks ago. Yes, I still have anxiety in adult social settings, but as an adult there is not the same expectation to join a clan and fit in with it (there is more scope for individuality).
So let's see if it's possible to get through week 3 with a bit more life experience behind me.
I'm nearly 27 years old. Given that I haven't done a teaching degree, a local highschool isn't where you would expect to find me; yet, tomorrow morning, that is where I will be.
In April I joined a theatre company. The name of the complany is "Company @" (for Company Autistic Theatre). As far as we are aware, we are the only theatre company in the world where all performers have an autism spectrum disorder. Recently our ensemble performed for the general public for the first time. Our play "Framed Out" gave a comedic insiders view into the lived experience of people on the autism spectrum, using minimalistic theatre.
Since our performance, our manager and director were able to secure funds for us to develop a program for highschool students. In the program we work with students from local highschool in developing scenes that relate to autism in schools. For the purposes of this program 4 out of our ensemble of 12 actors were selected to work on the project. I am one of those 4.
Initially our project involved just the ensemble members and our director going over events from our own highschool experiences that we could dramatise for the sake of bringing some initial illustrations to the students. My own experience, involving a nasty prank with a valentines card, was one of the scenes we worked on. Working in our safe little group was comofortable.
You think by this age I wouldn't think twice about going into a highschool, but as the day approached for our first session with the students (grade 10) I became more and more nervous. I realised that despite being more than a decade older than the students that I was just as terrified of them, and how our interactions might pan out, as I was of people when I was in highschool. If anything I was more nervous, because in highschool I didn't have the insight of today knowing that I in fact am the on who is not normal; back in highschool, I simply thought I was superior to many (not all) of the people who tried to ridicule and torment me.
Our first session with the students was good. They were reasonably well behaved and participated with a safe level of enthusiasm. Having been to 10 schools during my pre-university career, this first session reminded me of the first day at a new school. On your first day at a new school people haven't gotten to know you very well, most will let differences slide for a short period of time (making the assumption that it may be due to new-kid-nerves). People are nice on the first day, people are welcoming.
Last week was like week 2 at a new school. Without actually doing anything in particular your differences have been noted. Whether people can pinpoint it or not, it is obvious that you don't interact or think the same way as the crowd. And so the crowd sticks closer together. When the crowd sticks closer together, they don't necessarily do anything to actively exclude you, but you get the feeling you don't belong (and perhaps you should find your own space, away from them, to socialise/play etc). Everyone is still civilised, and this is perhaps your only opportunity to avoid the social slum of the playground. If you can redeem yourself and minimise the expressions of your personal quicks and autistic idiosyncracies during the second week, perhaps the crowd will relax and count their initial opinions about your difference as being too quickly judged.
Tomorrow is week 3. Tomorrow the mini ensemble from Company @ will return to this particular local highschool. I don't think I magically redeemed myself from the plight into social isolation last week. I found myself just as confused by the interactions of the students as I was in highschool. How do they decide who is cool? How do they decide when something someone says is funny or not (there don't seem to be any consistencies). What makes them choose some students over others to work with. How do you get them to listen to your ideas too.
I don't think any of the students there would have had a clue of the degree to which I once again felt like I didn't belong. The truth is, now I don't belong... But my mind wondered if an extra decade of life would have brought me to a point where I could be one-up on the social interactions of a group of 15 year olds. Alas, it hasn't. I have no doubts that I have achieved more academically in the past decade than the majority of this particular class of students we are working with will achieve in the next 10 or so years of their life; but none of that changes the fact that in that decade I have failed to even master an adolescent understanding of certain social norms.
While it doesn't particular matter to me if this group of students accept or include me, the situation has caused considerable thought and reflection. When I was their age I thought a decade filled with abundant tertiary education such as what I have undertaken would obliterate the obvious social difference I display. I was wrong, and it was disheartening to discover this. I'm not sure I want to fit into the 'normal' social code, but I'd like to think if I did, I could. I remember being told when I was in highschool that once I was qualified etc that my peers would look up to and respect me - I was lead to believe the social side would hold far less weight (that was so misleadnig of the well meaning adults who instilled that message into my then adolescent mind).
So back to tomorrow. Tomorrow is week 3. Week 3 of every new school I was enrolled in went something like this. People had already worked out there was some level of difference. There were a few kind souls who looked kindly upon the social misfit and offered brief periods of supportive recognition (while appreciated, it was also understood on my part that these offerings of kindness were motivated out of pity for the one who couldn't manage to attain reasonable social status alone). Inclusion was on the basis that interactions with me would somehow benefit the group. Just as quickly as these brief periods of inclusion started, the longer periods of outside social observer would take over. In week 3 no-one would be explicitly mean, but things would be on the build to an attack of the vulnerable; this building did not have to be announced, and in all honesty, the waiting for whatever prank or ridicule was being planned for was worse than the actual insult itself. Week 3 was once of the hardest weeks, because after that the exclusion and nastiness would reach a level at which certain protectors could recognise and address it: In week 3 it all remained below the surface, rumbling and threatening like a volcano ready to errupt.
How do I feel about tomorrow. Nervous. A little bit stuck in memory lane (and desperately trying to pull my feet out of the mud before I get there tomorrow so that I don't go in there and drive the situation into negativity through my own fears). I had forgotten the anxiety of being in highschool until our return 3 weeks ago. Yes, I still have anxiety in adult social settings, but as an adult there is not the same expectation to join a clan and fit in with it (there is more scope for individuality).
So let's see if it's possible to get through week 3 with a bit more life experience behind me.
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