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Jul. 11th, 2016 06:54 amLife Law #3: People do what works.
-Dr. Phil McGraw
Spent the past couple of days typing something up regarding why I still have yet to send a copy of that essay to Mrs. Bandows even after having Mom and Marie look it over. The first half is quotes from various things Chelle reblogged on Tumblr, but the second happened mostly to be about various forms of misbehavior that I engaged in throughout my childhood.
Like, I read all the time on Tumblr about the importance of looking for the actual root of a given behavior. There is also this book called The Reason I Jump, written by a 13-year-old rather than an adult reflecting on their own childhood, but while I haven't read it all the way through, most of what he's asked about are just habits like hand-flapping or the inability to act immediately when asked to do something, although it did also include fits of destruction (from lacking the maturity to cope with mistakes). Mrs. Bandows did make a point of teaching me to make eye contact back in 4th grade, which didn't come that hard for me. To date, the only things I show no sign of overcoming are talking to myself, obsessing over negative things I read about, and reacting the way I used to to how Dad used to tease me*. Mom does say, though, that I still tend to throw adult tantrums, such as stonewalling, taunting Blood that one time with Stage One: Thwarted, "refusing" to work out when something's bothering me (actually mental paralysis of sorts), or, oh, my antics at the day program three years ago (as opposed to just putting up even for just the one last day with being taken for such a ride).
*At this point, I can't remember the last time he did. Mom says that I'm more tolerant when Marie teases me, but she usually thinks of when she calls me "Henry", which she thought up in response to me calling her "Mary". In truth, though, there are some things I wouldn't tolerate even from her. Early in 2008, Mom was making waffles, I happened to finish doing some stuff on our computer and decided to get breakfast then, Dad asked me if I "smelled that waffle," I tried to explain to him what really happened, and he interrupted me and said "So you smelled that waffle?" I trembled threateningly. Marie also got in on this for the next week or so, with one of the things she said resulting me approaching her in a threatening manner, and also one time the following week or so called me a "waffle-sniffer", from which I thought of something sexual to call her should she have said it again.
In any case, Naoki Higashida was rather lucky to be able to explain all those kinds of things in his book at only 13 years old. Good luck trying to reason with someone, even in the aftermath of a full-blown tantrum, who lacks any actual sense of logic or introspection, or who does things because they seem cool (as opposed to either ansiness (under #4) or some sense of oppression and helplessness).
While I didn't exactly appreciate being told "No, you're gonna [read some science pages] now," the reason I didn't just pack my textbook into my backpack instead had to do with the fear that she'd call Mom to fill her in. It's obvious enough that no one would appreciate having their words modified for them, but she was in one of her moods, and I didn't know at the same age Naoki wrote that book, how to explain that what bothered me in particular wasn't so much what she asked me to, or even her tone (even though that and all her phone-call threats did too) do but how she insulted me like that. Furthermore, for all she knew, maybe I would have needed more time than the few minutes remaining before 1st period to focus (even though, in truth, I was quite capable back then of getting all my homework for each day done and didn't need time buffers or hallway time back then, despite how little downtime there was during school hours than in college all those years later).
On the other hand, Mom had also told me that I was one of the first autistic kids ever to be brought into a mainstream class (as opposed to Special Ed) back in 1995. There was no Internet back then, and naturally, no one had any real idea how to handle me. It's quite possible that Mrs. Bandows might have learned a few things since her time with me, but there's no question that it would still be a good idea at least to recommend that book to her.
(I haven't sent that essay to anyone because I wanted Mom to read it first and tell me if it makes sense, and then it seemed like a moot point after the discussion we had in response. I'll still email it to anyone nonetheless interested, though, especially now that it's been put into context.)
-Dr. Phil McGraw
Spent the past couple of days typing something up regarding why I still have yet to send a copy of that essay to Mrs. Bandows even after having Mom and Marie look it over. The first half is quotes from various things Chelle reblogged on Tumblr, but the second happened mostly to be about various forms of misbehavior that I engaged in throughout my childhood.
Like, I read all the time on Tumblr about the importance of looking for the actual root of a given behavior. There is also this book called The Reason I Jump, written by a 13-year-old rather than an adult reflecting on their own childhood, but while I haven't read it all the way through, most of what he's asked about are just habits like hand-flapping or the inability to act immediately when asked to do something, although it did also include fits of destruction (from lacking the maturity to cope with mistakes). Mrs. Bandows did make a point of teaching me to make eye contact back in 4th grade, which didn't come that hard for me. To date, the only things I show no sign of overcoming are talking to myself, obsessing over negative things I read about, and reacting the way I used to to how Dad used to tease me*. Mom does say, though, that I still tend to throw adult tantrums, such as stonewalling, taunting Blood that one time with Stage One: Thwarted, "refusing" to work out when something's bothering me (actually mental paralysis of sorts), or, oh, my antics at the day program three years ago (as opposed to just putting up even for just the one last day with being taken for such a ride).
*At this point, I can't remember the last time he did. Mom says that I'm more tolerant when Marie teases me, but she usually thinks of when she calls me "Henry", which she thought up in response to me calling her "Mary". In truth, though, there are some things I wouldn't tolerate even from her. Early in 2008, Mom was making waffles, I happened to finish doing some stuff on our computer and decided to get breakfast then, Dad asked me if I "smelled that waffle," I tried to explain to him what really happened, and he interrupted me and said "So you smelled that waffle?" I trembled threateningly. Marie also got in on this for the next week or so, with one of the things she said resulting me approaching her in a threatening manner, and also one time the following week or so called me a "waffle-sniffer", from which I thought of something sexual to call her should she have said it again.
In any case, Naoki Higashida was rather lucky to be able to explain all those kinds of things in his book at only 13 years old. Good luck trying to reason with someone, even in the aftermath of a full-blown tantrum, who lacks any actual sense of logic or introspection, or who does things because they seem cool (as opposed to either ansiness (under #4) or some sense of oppression and helplessness).
While I didn't exactly appreciate being told "No, you're gonna [read some science pages] now," the reason I didn't just pack my textbook into my backpack instead had to do with the fear that she'd call Mom to fill her in. It's obvious enough that no one would appreciate having their words modified for them, but she was in one of her moods, and I didn't know at the same age Naoki wrote that book, how to explain that what bothered me in particular wasn't so much what she asked me to, or even her tone (even though that and all her phone-call threats did too) do but how she insulted me like that. Furthermore, for all she knew, maybe I would have needed more time than the few minutes remaining before 1st period to focus (even though, in truth, I was quite capable back then of getting all my homework for each day done and didn't need time buffers or hallway time back then, despite how little downtime there was during school hours than in college all those years later).
On the other hand, Mom had also told me that I was one of the first autistic kids ever to be brought into a mainstream class (as opposed to Special Ed) back in 1995. There was no Internet back then, and naturally, no one had any real idea how to handle me. It's quite possible that Mrs. Bandows might have learned a few things since her time with me, but there's no question that it would still be a good idea at least to recommend that book to her.
(I haven't sent that essay to anyone because I wanted Mom to read it first and tell me if it makes sense, and then it seemed like a moot point after the discussion we had in response. I'll still email it to anyone nonetheless interested, though, especially now that it's been put into context.)