I grew up as a child with undiagnosed autism and ADHD.
When I was very young, I loved school and loved learning. I learned to read when I was 2 years old. According to my mom, I learned to write at about the same time. Some of my earliest memories involve folding sheets of paper together and writing my own stories.
In kindergarten and first grade, my teachers were impressed by how smart I was. I was the most advanced reader in my class, reading Judy Blume books when others were still struggling to learn the alphabet.
However, the teachers also complained that I daydreamed too much. I also had trouble fitting in with other kids.
When school started becoming more demanding, my performance declined drastically. I could read anything I wanted to, but I struggled to keep up with the "sit and listen" lessons in school. I could learn anything if it was interesting enough to me, but when learning was foisted upon me, I just couldn't force myself to pay attention. I wanted to read, and write, and do art work, and put on plays, and help people, and be outside in nature. My desk was like a cage that could hold my body but not my mind.
I was put into a "gifted and talented" class. The teachers told me that in this class, I would have the chance to use my imagination and creativity. But instead, it was just the same boring "sit and listen" lessons, only a few grade levels more advanced. I did even worse. The other kids in the class made fun of me. They called me stupid and said my parents had bribed the school to put me in the "smart" class.
I remember asking one teacher if she believed in leprechauns. I firmly believed that such creatures existed, and I couldn't really trust any teacher who didn't at least entertain the idea. The teacher told me firmly that no, leprechauns were not real. Later, in a meeting with other teachers and my parents, this teacher said. "I don't see how a child who believes in leprechauns can possibly be gifted."
I grew to hate school passionately. I was confused because I had always been told I was smart, yet I was always failing my classes. My teachers and parents were constantly angry and disappointed with me. I learned to pretend that I just didn't care. Because of my autism and ADHD I didn't pick up on social cues well in real life, but I could emulate characters in books. My favorite book was The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton. I adapted the disinterested and angry attitude of the Greasers. I slouched and rolled my eyes and glared at people. And that was how I got through school... grade level after grade level, falling further and further behind, becoming angrier and less engaged by the minute.
In high school I was put into a special education class for students with emotional and behavioral disorders. The school also suspected I had some sort of disability, but they didn't recognize autism or ADHD. my symptoms were not the classic ones that most professionals had read about at the time. They told my parents they thought I had "some sort of retardation." One school psychiatrist told them I would never be able to drive a car, get a job, go to college, or live on my own.
For a while this seemed to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. But eventually I found a job in a day care center. It was on a city bus route, so I didn't need a driver's license. At first I only worked part time, but I loved the children so much that I found I could handle working there full time. This job led me to join AmeriCorps, where I found a position working with children in foster care. Because that position was in another state, in a rural area without public transportation, I managed to learn to drive and got my driver's license at age 21. After AmeriCorps, I got a job as a teacher's aide in a special education school. I realized that I loved teaching children with special needs, and that I wanted to be a special education teacher. My AmeriCorps education voucher allowed me to start taking classes part time while still working full time. It took me many years and may false starts, but I eventually graduated from college with a teaching degree.
However, in the years since I had first worked as a teacher's aide, the world of special education had changed a lot. There was a lot of focus on getting students to comply and to fit into the public school mold. One school counselor scolded me for not stopping a first grader from dancing as he walked into class. "The goal is for him to look as much like the other students as possible," she said. Year after year I met students who were creative, and spirited, and energetic, and clever. Year after year, I was told that I needed to teach these students to be calm and quiet, to sit at desks, and to nod their heads. Even if they weren't really paying attention to a word the teacher said, it was vitally important that they sit still and nod their heads.
I had read about schools like the Albany Free School, where students were in charge of what they learned and were encouraged to follow their interests. IF a student was interested in putting on plays, they could learn to read and write by reading and writing plays for themselves and the other students to perform. I daydreamed about someday starting my own school like that. It would serve not only students who were identified as having special needs such as ADHD, autism, and learning disabilities, but also unique learners whose spirits were in danger of being crushed by the traditional school system.
Two years in a row, I was dismissed from my teaching jobs at the end of the school year, mainly because I had failed to teach my students to sit quietly. The principals and special education directors all agreed that my lessons were great. I was awesome at finding hands-on ways for students to learn new things, creating games and activities that got them excited about practicing what they were learning. They agreed that I cared strongly about my students and had a wonderful connection with them, and that most of the adults who worked with me loved me. But they thought that my classroom management style was lacking because I let students do things such as talk without raising their hands, and leave to go to the bathroom or get drinks. There was also the more subtle fact that I was still a square peg in a round hole, and had trouble blending in with the other teachers and professionals.
Finally, towards the end of the 2017-2018 school year (which is actually right now, as I sit writing this) I decided to refocus on my dream of starting my own school. For lack of a better name to call it, in my head I've been thinking of it as The Someday School.
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