The Chocolate Aspie's Classroom Conundrums

"If I could relive my high school years, I would!" How many people do you know have made this statement? Some individuals say that their high school years, along with their primary and middle school years, were the best times of their lives. Well, as for me, it was a rough and depressing journey. After my diagnosis with Asperger's Syndrome in 1997, I never really found my place. I was always the outcast or the oddball, the one person whom my peers looked at with disdain and annoyance. While everyone else was developing friendships and experiencing romance (or puppy love), I was there, looking at them from the window panes of my eyes, wondering when it would be my turn to have a friend and to have an active social life. I also wondered when the torment and bullying I faced on a regular basis would cease. While the bullying began in daycare at Dozier's Early Learning Center in East Point, GA (two of my classmates hung me from a coat hook) and while the bullying was sporadic from Pre-K to the 2nd grade, from the 3rd grade up to my senior year of high school, I was marked with a barrage of insults, rejection, criticism, and even physical strikes practically every single day.

For a decade (2000-2010), I was always bullied in school. If it wasn't about my chubby physique, it was about my style of clothing (I didn't wear the "right" labels/brands that were trendy at the time. For instance, oversize sports jerseys and Girbauds during middle school, Hollister and American Eagle by the tail end of high school). If it wasn't about my clothes, it was about my dialect (I "talked White," meaning "too proper" in predominantly Black schools). If it wasn't about my dialect, it was about the color of my gums (They were black, when, according to some of my peers, they should have been pink). If it wasn't about my gums, it was about my general presence, walking into a classroom or a hallway, knocked kneed, pigeon-toed, nerdy, awkward, and always out of the loop with the "in crowd" or any other social group. There were times when food was taken right off of my lunch tray and the offenders dared me to do something about it (There was one occasion in middle school where a group of male peers stole some of my lunch right off of the tray, but I was too afraid to take any type of action). I was slapped, pushed, punched, kicked, and yes, even slammed to the ground on many occasions. I never once defended myself, simply out of fear of the offender and of the disciplinary action that would follow if I fought back. There were many times I would come home crying inconsolably because of this. My mother was my primary source of comfort and strength. Since I couldn't fight for myself, she would have to fight for me by way of meetings and phone calls with various teachers and administrators. Mom was my paramount ally in my struggles with bullying. Looking back on it, I should have been my greatest ally and chose me over fear. 

I believed that each upcoming school year would be the end of the tormenting; I was wrong. I would always blame myself for my maltreatment, thinking that who I was as a genuine individual was a crime against humanity. It seemed like I always said or did the wrong things all of the time, making myself an easy target for more cruelty and criticism. The pain is still here with me at 22 years old. The bleak memories of my school years still play in the back of my mind, as if it were a scratched record. Don't get me wrong, there were some positive moments and happy times (making honor rolls, receiving certificates and other awards for academic success, singing in various choruses, and being around some very wonderful teachers), but unfortunately, the bad outweighed the good. There was always a barrier separating me from social bliss and acceptance from my peers. I tried my hardest to break that barrier, but the more I tried to break it, the more resistance and backlash I received. Mom said it best: "You don't need validation from other people; Self validation is all you need." Maybe if I would have carried this lesson in my heart, and not just my head, there would not have been so many classroom conundrums.