When I left him, I reasoned thus with myself: I am wiser than this man, for neither of us appears to know anything great and good; but he fancies he knows something, although he knows nothing; whereas I, as I do not know anything, so I do not fancy I do. In this trifling particular, then, I appear to be wiser than he, because I do not fancy I know what I do not know. --Socrates
This past Thursday afternoon I was invited to address two groups of young people (ages approximately 17- 22yrs) on the spectrum preparing to head off to college. From Pennsylvania, California, Michigan, Nevada, North Carolina, and Massachusetts even! The invitation came from Janet, a psychologist I have been working closely with for a while now. As one of the instructors working with this group, she shared some challenges she was experiencing. And, one of her solutions seemed to be me. Hearing it from the horse's mouth approach. I can appreciate that. I wouldn't necessarily trust a rocket scientist to teach me how to make shoes, no matter how bright or how many pairs of shoes he/she owned. I would want the low-down from a cobbler who had the callouses on his hands. But, here's the problem-- I can only tell you about me. I can tell you about what I have read also, but you can get your own library card. So, we come back to what do I know? I know me. And, I have had over forty years of knowing me. I guess you can say I have gained my chops in the realm of a recently diagnosed female on the spectrum.
I had trouble imagining what a 17year old would be thinking if they were forced to sit directly across from me for an hour plus. Not really able to do that, I imagined myself at that age. I remembered what I did and what I wanted to do. Would I have been engaged? Defensive? Pensive? Bored? I probably would have preferred to be sitting in the middle of the woods, buried in leaves. Well, I don't even have any idea what people in my own peer group think of me and my tales. So, what would this group glean from the talk? Got me! But, I dove in the water. With less than a day to prepare myself, I couldn't even test the temperature of said water.
I did write a few notes to myself based on Janet's brief overview. I referred to those notes ZERO times. I can't even recall how I began. A young man in the second group had an excellent question prepared for me out the gate. To paraphrase the first part of his question, what was it like being undiagnosed for decades? Well, I guess that is as good of a start as any. It sucked. It was frustrating. For years, I had the grades. The stellar grades. The slot in the "gifted" program. Yet, I also had the years of behavioral and what was read as discipline issues starting as early as kindergarten. By the time I reached high school, I had given up. I didn't understand it. The people around me didn't understand it. So, I just stopped. I managed to graduate in the top quarter of my class, but I never took homework home. Not unless it was a subject I enjoyed. Teachers couldn't understand why I wouldn't show my work in college algebra (with correct answers), but I would request extra physics books to borrow. They couldn't understand what would possess me to just stand up and leave a noisy classroom or cafeteria, to just walk straight out of school to sit in the side yard. That was a behavior issue to them. Not a sensitivity issue. Something I like to share with every group I have ever addressed, the wisdom bestowed upon me by a guidance counselor who offered no guidance, "I'll read about you some day... for either winning the Nobel Peace Prize or ending up in jail." To me that phrase IS undiagnosed ASD. My epitaph, perhaps. However, I am sure to relay-- I do not use those years as an excuse or hold a grudge. What matters is now.
This group was spending a week preparing for the transition into college life. Having attended at least three colleges in over fifteen years (not including other training and online courses), I knew a little about university life. I had earned nearly enough credits to be awarded a Doctorate, but needed to scratch enough together by trying to put the correct pegs in the matching holes to be award a degree of Letters, Arts, and Sciences with a dual focus of psychology and creative writing. Just trying to get a piece of paper in my fist before I quit AGAIN. I knew how difficult it could be.
College is a series of hoops. Okay, first, life is a series of hoops. However, in college, I think there are more hoops lined up one after another and closer together than one will ever experience at any other point of their life.
Let me back up. Leaving for college for the first time is an amazing experience. For many, it is a chance to break free from the parental structures both physical and metaphysical. It is a chance to finally assert one's self. If you are lucky, you know what you'd like to pursue in the academic culture. You can finally wear old men's oxfords all the time without someone telling you you look like a rag-a-muffin. You can begin to feel empowered by choosing to surrounding yourself with people like yourself-- people who have perhaps read Pere Ubu. You have resources at your fingers: oil paints, microscopes, and a professor or two who are still engaged and engaging. It is great.
As you begin to examine the requirements of your degree with your adviser, the hoops begin to cast their shadows on your bright and budding academic career. I spent most of my life questioning the hoops and having contempt for the people who managed to glide through them. Heck, even the people who went kicking and screaming! Instead of taking a few steps back to then gaining momentum towards that great leap needed to pitch myself through the center, I stood back and tapped my chin. Hmmm, what is this hoop composed of? Who placed this hoop here? What is on the other side of the hoop? The diameter? Is there a way around the hoop? Tick-tock-tock-tick. If no one was able to address these questions in what I viewed an acceptable manner, I'd turn my back on the hoop. Usually only to be faced with another hoop. The process would begin again.
Don't misunderstand me! The over-analytical mind is a precious and rare commodity. It is the fertile ground of every unconventional idea that eventually becomes conventional until another ripe mind questions its validity. As one young man quoting Socrates reiterated during this phase of my rhetoric, "The life which is unexamined is not worth living." Yes-yes, I couldn't agree more. But, do I agree because it is a CHOICE or because it is simply who I am? Is there the same degree virtue in a good deed that is done without thought versus the good deed that is done after contemplation? Or are they both equal because the result is equal? Follow? I have no choice but to CONSTANTLY question life. It is how my brain functions-- constantly question.
It is like this-- you are dog tired. You are aching. You finally, after hours, find a chair where you are able to rest. You sit. You sigh. You relax. You are relieved having found a chair. You appreciate the chair being there for you to take respite. At that point, you stop thinking about the chair. Here's where the subtle difference takes place. Maybe before I even let my haggard bones collapse, I begin to assess. Is it wooden? Upholstered? If yes, what fabric was used? Was it ever RE- upholstered? Why? Cats? Sitting near a window and sun-bleached? Is the seat still warm? If yes, does that means someone or something was recently sitting there-- will they be back? Meanwhile, I am still aching and still unseated. That is a BIT of an exaggeration but not much.
Again, if the inquiries about the hoop cannot satisfactorily be answered and reason for the hoop doesn't materialize, that's is usually it for me. Even if the third hoop following down the line provides a prize much revered. Hoop one is senseless. I cannot make myself do it. My first collegiate hoop? Gym class. I was one semester away from being awarded a bachelors degree with two minors. Gym? Gym! As mentioned in previous blogs, I never liked Phys Ed much. I even shared with the group about my nearly six foot self being seen as defiant because I would not, as a senior in high school, try to bend myself in to an origami crane. I quit college rather than jump through that hoop.
I can't say the decision was the worst ever made. I ended up moving to Chicago- working in record stores, publishing freelance comics and illustrations while meeting some fantastically talented people with whom I am still friends today. Wait... maybe that is not the best way to end that. I guess you need to jump ahead fifteen to twenty years and be faced with a potential employer who doesn't care if you know the differences between all the Blue Note album labels. Or that you can tell him what city Harvey Pekar called home. The potential employer needs to know how fast, how high, and how far you can jump through a hoop that you may or may not agree with in order to complete a project for the overall benefit of the team/employer. Practically speaking, it is part of how you will pay your bills. Also, there may come a day when you question yourself as to why it has taken you nearly twenty years to complete something it takes most typical people four years to accomplish.
Being able to jump through a hoop sometimes has very little with overall aptitude, intellect, or logic. Some less then bright people are pretty good at hoop jumping. They potentially can get further in their pursuit than you, even though you may know and understand more than they do. It is a skill. Try to learn it. It will only enable you to achieve more.
However, there is a difference between being a trained pony and a hoop jumper. People should respect you, and you need to respect yourself. It is a fine line. Recognize where your line lies in the sand. Every once in a while evaluate what is on the other side of that line. And, if necessary, adjust your line. Don't worry, lines aren't permanent-- they are fluid.
One of my favorite gentleman came up during our mostly one-sided conversation, Sherlock Holmes. As I mentioned, even back in high school, I had a hard time finding the value in information which held no interest or purpose for me. And, being unable to anticipate future need for most of it, many of those topics became mute. In the episode of the Cunningham Heritage with Ronald Howard (1954), Watson and Holmes decide to share a flat. While unpacking, the they begin to discuss how unbelievable it is that a man of Holmes' intellect didn't know the Earth moved around the Sun. Sherlock goes on to explain to Watson it means nothing to him so he will promptly forget it to leave room for facts which are useful to him. Exactly! Whether it is a person, place, or thing... living or dead, if it doesn't apply to my world or interests and pursuits, I have trouble finding a reason to retain it or even initially pursue it. If I don't like an artist, why would I remember his/her name? One of my favorite artists is Jean Dubuffet. If I don't own your dog, why would I remember its name? My cat's name is Itty. If I like British bikes better than American bikes, why would I remember what kind of braking system a Harley Davidson uses? A Norton Commando uses drum brakes. Even though I can remember what all the Twilight series book covers look like from working in a bookstore, I don't know the author's name anymore. My favorite author is Harry Crews.
In the realm of academia, these hoops are called requirements. They are the filler a university pads their degrees with to show the world their graduates are well-rounded individuals. My advice? Pick the best you can, complete it to your best ability. Give the subject designated time and effort. Complete it, move on. Once it is done, you can keep it in the storage units of your gray matter or put it to the curb with a "free" sign leaning on it. Keep yourself open to possibly experiencing something interesting. Something you may want to follow-up on in the future.
As a side note, when thinking about all this thinking, I think, "There are sometimes I just wish I could turn my brain off." That is complex subject for another time. It opens cans of worms. When does a line of thinking become obsessive? Before I even heard of ASD or Asperger's, I planned on one of my research topics toward my psychology major to focus on understanding the borderline obsessive thinking found in MANY of my fellow "gifted" students. And, was it helpful or harmful to tell kids like that to brainstorm and hyper-focus even more? At one point of my life I wore a rubber band around my left wrist. I would snap it when I wanted to STOP thinking about something. There was also one point of my life when I would get annihilated to slow all the spinning gears down. Some of that changes with self-actualization. Some doesn't. But, it is all a topic for another time.
Here's a link to this great program:
http://www.mercyhurst.edu/learning-differences/foundations-program/
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