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. 

Out Of The Loop: The Chocolate Aspie's Diagnosis, Part Three (Final)

In March 1997, as recommended by Shiela Cannon, M.D. of the Atlanta Area Psychological Associates, P.C., an attempt was made to test me for an attention deficit disorder. Two different instruments (the IVA and TOVA, which were successfully used with other four-year-olds) were used in an attempt to evaluate me; Both attempts failed. According to the examiner, I was unable to understand and follow directions on the IVA. On the TOVA, I became frustrated, refused to continue, and started kicking my feet and making mean faces and growling noises. I was noted to be hyperactive and I exhibited poor impulse control, and no sense of boundary (For example, I was apt to touch, feel, and hug Dr. Cannon). I was also noted wanting excessive closeness, as I attempted to climb into the doctor's lap and sought a great deal of physical contact from her, my mother, and my grandmother. By the latter part of March, my mother and grandmother took me to another doctor, Patricia Allen Brown, PhD. of the Atlanta Area Psychological Associates, P.C., in another attempt to officially diagnose me. I was taken back to her on April 8, 1997 for a second appointment.

Monday, April 21, 1997: A letter arrived for my mother from Dr. Allen Brown, with news that would change my and household's lives forever. It was an official diagnosis, the answer my mother and grandmother had been searching for since I started Pre-K. In the words of Dr. Allen Brown's report, "It is my opinion that Fredrick's developmental pattern and behavioral manifestations most closely resemble a mild to moderate form of Asperger's Disorder... Fredrick has qualitative impairments in social interactions in his lack of social and emotional reciprocity, and his inability to use nonverbal behaviors to regulate social interactions. Further, he has a preoccupation with cars that is abnormal in both intensity and focus, and he has significant impairments in educational areas of functioning." My mother and grandmother stated in the first meeting with Dr. Allen Brown that I had an inability to empathize with others, given that I was so affectionate; The doctors noted that as well (Cruel irony, isn't it). While I was told that I had Asperger's Syndrome, my minuscule four-year-old mind could not comprehend how this would impact my life... Monday, April 21, 1997 was the beginning of a complex, painful, and continuous journey. It is a journey that is presently shaping me into becoming a better and stronger person. Without pressure, there cannot be a diamond.

Out Of The Loop: The Chocolate Aspie's Diagnosis, Part Two

Shortly before withdrawing from Oak Knoll, at the request of Lynne Sullivan (an Instructional Support Teacher), I was referred for a developmental evaluation in October 1996. She referred me because of possible developmental delays, specifically in the area of personal-social skills. After taking the Battelle Developmental Inventory, the Burks' Behavior Rating Scales, and the Connor's Rating Scales, it was determined that I was functioning below my chronological age in all areas of development. According to my teacher, Ms. Budd, I had difficulty following the class routine and structure, I talked out loud in class, I was too "touchy-feely," I was unable to follow class rules and directions, I demanded adult attention, I needed reminders to cooperate, take turns, and share, and I was generally non-compliant.

A month later, I was seen for a speech and language evaluation in conjunction with a Special Needs Preschool referral. The evaluation results indicated scattered language skills. I exhibited a moderate receptive language delay with specific weaknesses in the comprehension of basic concepts, syntax, and morphology. Additionally, I exhibited a mild expressive language delay. My expressive vocabulary skills appeared to be fairly well developed, though I had difficulty maintaining a given topic of reference. Based on those test results, Speech Impaired Services were warranted. By the time January 1997 came along, I was officially withdrawn from Oak Knoll Elementary School, and my mother and grandmother requested a comprehensive Preschool Team evaluation from the present-day Marcus Autism Center. They were extremely concerned about possible developmental delays and behavioral problems since I had recently been evaluated by the Fulton County School System and deemed eligible for special needs preschool services. Marcus used a neurodevelopmental evaluation, a physical examination, developmental history, Early Screening Profiles (one a Cognitive/Language Profile, the other a Self-help/Social Profile Questionnaire), a Child Behavior Checklist (CBCL), a clinical interview with my mother and grandmother, an informal behavior observation, a review of records, and finally, a clinical interview with the family. Marcus determined the following:

With expressive language, I was able to tell stories, say my full name, identify colors, state my address, count to 10, and recite the days of the week.

With receptive language, I had difficulty with multi-step commands and more complex prepositions.

With gross motor skills, I could ascend and descend stairs reciprocally, but I had difficulty peddling a tricycle.

With fine motor skills, I was thought to have a right hand preference, although sometimes I used my left hand. I was described as having an emerging pencil grasp.

With adaptive skills, I was able to use a fork, able to dress and undress myself with some support, and I was toilet trained. I did, however, have nocturnal enuresis.

With all of those procedures being done, and all of Marcus' findings, a diagnosis was unclear for me...

Out Of The Loop: The Chocolate Aspie's Diagnosis, Part One

When someone is born, that person doesn't get to choose his/her skin color, nationality, gender, eye color, or other genetic features. That person also doesn't get to choose how their minds function neurologically. I am sure that if my mother had her way, she would have given me a mind void of any mental and neurological issues. She would have given me a life void of ridicule and rejection... Well, that's not how my life turned out. No parent ever thinks that his/her child will develop a form of autism, and no amount of intestinal fortitude in the world will ever prepare a parent for the moment of impact, when he/she discovers that his/her child is autistic. I think I can speak for my mother when I say, you can never prepare yourself for that hurt.

From the moment I was born on Tuesday, July 14, 1992, I was the apple of my mother and late maternal grandparents' eyes. Growing up in the suburbs of East Point, GA, my world consisted of my mom, Joycene, and her parents, George and Mattie. I was a bright eyed, inquisitive, and intelligent little boy, and I enjoyed my household and the adventures in my backyard, playing with pine cones and digging for earthworms. I also loved cars, from small matchbox cars to big Tonka trucks. I would always line the cars up in various parts of the house, as if they were a part of a mini parking lot or funeral motorcade. I was able to properly identify any model of car that I saw driving on the highways. That fueled my desire to collect as many matchbox cars as I could (My mother still has my massive car collection to this very day). As a witness to this, my dearly departed grandmother thought that she was laying eyes on a bona fide genius with no mental flaws. Little did the family know, that was a veil that covered an earth shattering truth. 

Because I was the proclaimed "little genius," school should not have been a major issue for me. The soon-to-be former Oak Knoll Elementary School of East Point, GA was the beginning of my academic journey in 1996. I was one of about 25 students in Ms. Budd and Ms. Clinkscales' class. Our days consisted of  lessons, story time, nap time, recess, and lunch. For me, however, part of the days consisted of crawling under the desks while all of my other classmates would be sitting in a semicircle, attentive to the story being read by Ms. Budd. My mind was completely unfocused from the story, as I continued my adventure crawling under each desk. I did not intend to be a distraction to my peers, nor I did not intend to disrespect my teachers, but this was the way it was perceived. Ms. Budd eventually went to her superior to inform her of my behavior; The superior then contacted my mother and allowed her watch one of my adventures through a one way mirror. For the first time in motherhood, Mom felt completely helpless and heartbroken. She immediately contacted my grandmother, who was a retired educator and assistant principal, to ask for her professional and personal advice. My grandmother had only one option: Immediate withdrawal from Oak Knoll. From there, they would brainstorm the next steps...