tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post1804622439713539344..comments2008-09-07T23:03:34.217-07:00Anne Corwinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940566603711834053noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-1512279696293974052008-09-07T23:03:00.000-07:002008-09-07T23:03:00.000-07:00That picture you drew of yourself as an alien is so cute!<BR/><BR/>I did like New Kids on the Block in the 80's, specifically Joey. <BR/><BR/>It really is funny how something can be such a huge trend then, and then a few years later you're considered a joke for still liking that trend. I can imagine how confusing this would be for most Aspies. I don't even pay attention to trends at all now, for all I know I was into New Kids on the Block cause my parents bought me a cassette of their music.<BR/><BR/>There is an episode of Edd Ed and Eddy called It's Way Ed (which I couldn't find a video of on the net), where the Eds try to scam the kids by coming up with the next trend. They don't succeed, cause by the time they invent a new trend, someone already had invented it and it was cool. So it's not like just people with Autism or Asperger's syndrome don't get it. Although some people have speculated that Ed is somewhere on the Autism spectrum.<BR/><BR/>Even sometimes the trend is to not be into trends. Eh, I guess you can just chalk it up, to those crazy NTs and their ways of wasting time.violet_yoshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07211709749772108070noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-79685452819425018592008-09-03T06:40:00.000-07:002008-09-03T06:40:00.000-07:00Very nice post. I love the drawing of you at the desk. The peoples writings. ugh. I am sure if I had saved some of those things from my past I would have similar nasty notes. I was often made fun of and bullied as well. <BR/><BR/>I do think many children who bully grow up to be adults who bully in the workplace. Workplace bullying I have experienced as well and found it to be very damaging as an adult. Some people only seem to intensify their poor behavior as they "grow up". I was surprised to find that there is a great deal of information out there in regards to bullying in the workplace.<BR/><BR/>I am glad you shared this post. There is so much to it that I am having difficulty putting my thoughts together. I will have to read it again soon.<BR/><BR/>I am glad to be back! I have missed reading your posts.Marlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03190244970587239644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-88801037406548400212008-08-31T06:08:00.000-07:002008-08-31T06:08:00.000-07:00&gt; The best teachers I had (and that I<BR/>&gt; know of now) tended to go way above<BR/>&gt; and beyond -- bringing in their own<BR/>&gt; materials and generally trying to<BR/>&gt; teach in spite of the curriculum<BR/><BR/>Anne -- here&#39;s a movie recommendation for you. One of my favorite films of all time is _The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie_ (1968), with Maggie Smith. Here&#39;s one of the best scenes:<BR/>http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3888787223910587113<BR/><BR/>&quot;Little girls! I am in the business of putting old heads on young shoulders, and all my pupils are the creme de la creme.&quot;jimfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04975754342950063440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-82783301352052760232008-08-30T19:37:00.000-07:002008-08-30T19:37:00.000-07:00&gt; [T]here&#39;s a ton of &quot;teaching to<BR/>&gt; the test&quot; that teaches people to<BR/>&gt; regurgitate answers but not<BR/>&gt; to actually think.<BR/><BR/>When you consider what **real** teaching would be like -- I think of the scenes in C. S. Lewis&#39;s novel _Till We Have Faces_ in which two princesses in an ancient kingdom are being tutored _al fresco_ by a Greek philosopher nicknamed &quot;The Fox&quot; (who also serves as the king&#39;s chief counsellor), a slave who was taken as a prisoner of war.<BR/><BR/>Or the descriptions of what it was like to be Kate Russell, Bertrand Russell&#39;s daughter (in _My Father, Bertrand Russell_ by Katharine Russell Tait), and get personal lessons in history and literature from one of the greatest minds of the 20th century (who just happens to be your dad).<BR/><BR/>Modern public education is a **radical** compromise -- it&#39;s designed to be as cheap and efficient as possible, to reach the greatest number possible. And it does its job -- most people learn to read and write (after a fashion) and to calculate well enough to count change and balance their checkbooks.<BR/><BR/>Beyond that, there&#39;s certainly no time or money to worry about **thought**!!<BR/><BR/>But to compare modern mass &quot;education&quot; with what has historically counted as education among the privileged classes -- Plato or Socrates surrounded by their proteges; Euclid admonishing King Ptolemy &quot;Sire, there is no royal road to mathematics.&quot; -- is to expose a gap as great as that between McDonald&#39;s, Kraft supermarket dinners and Kellogg&#39;s breakfast cereal, and the meals prepared by the staff of gourmet cooks (directed by a genuine French chef) who presided over the kitchen of a mansion like The Elms (of Newport, Rhode Island) during the Gilded Age.<BR/><BR/>I got a scholarship to a summer session at a fancy private school during the summer between 11th and 12th grade, and it left me with a keen appreciation of what I **wasn&#39;t** getting at a public high school. And that&#39;s nothing compared to a good personal relationship with a good tutor.<BR/><BR/>OTOH, I suppose a **bad** personal relationship with a **bad** tutor might be a nightmare on a par with the worst public school experiences here in the US. And a private education is no guarantee of a good one (or at least, it didn&#39;t always used to be).<BR/><BR/>C. S. Lewis gives examples of both in his autobiography _Surprised by Joy_ -- his nightmarish experiences at &quot;Oldie&#39;s School&quot; and at &quot;Wyvern College&quot;, and his great intellectual debts to his private tutor William Kirkpatrick (whom he affectionately calls &quot;the Great Knock&quot;).jimfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04975754342950063440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-67327928675854166242008-08-30T09:16:00.000-07:002008-08-30T09:16:00.000-07:00<B>Sid</B> said:<BR/><BR/><I>I faced social incoherence to the point of actually locking myself away after burning out from too much conversation </I><BR/><BR/>Yeah, that sounds familiar. I don't dislike conversation (presuming it's with people I like, and that are interesting) but my limit point for being able to maintain coherence seems to be lower than average. I have learned to watch out for the point at which I transition from saying what I actually mean to just sort of babbling randomly, because that's usually a sign that I need to stop talking (or typing, as the case may be, though I can usually write long after speech becomes too difficult). It's just so weird to be able to <I>feel</I> that shift now, because when I was growing up I didn't really have a sense of it, and actually spent huge chunks of time in "babble mode", to the point where I had a reputation as a bit of a "chatterbox" in some settings. And I didn't know the difference between speech-as-noise and speech-as-communication completely until I was in my 20s, and figured out that people tended to respond and treat me very differently depending on whether they "met" me first in person or in writing.<BR/><BR/>You said: <I>But to compare, I signed up in 9th grade to help tutor the autistic kids at my junior high school...And the program was terrible. There was no substance, education, or assistance. I was basically working as a babysitter to deal with those the school didn't want to. They did not have any kind of schoolwork to do. I don't even really remember them having anything to do.</I><BR/><BR/>That pretty much reflects what I've heard from autistic people my age who were in those kinds of programs as teenagers, etc. -- the classes they were in seemed more geared toward "containing" them than anything else. The state of education for anyone who doesn't fit the expected mold is pretty dismal even in the "enlightened" USA (and even, in many respects, for those who do, as there's a ton of "teaching to the test" that teaches people to regurgitate answers but not to actually <I>think</I>). And a number of the parent blogs I read (by parents of autistic kids) describe what amounts to tooth-and-nail fighting just to get the schools to even <I>attempt</I> to educate their kids in appropriate ways (i.e., without restraining them or locking them in closets when they react to sensory overload, etc.). I don't blame individual teachers so much for the dismal state of public (and probably some private) education, though there are definitely some pieces of work there -- it's the whole system that's screwed up. <BR/><BR/>The best teachers I had (and that I know of now) tended to go way above and beyond -- bringing in their own materials and generally trying to teach <I>in spite</I> of the curriculum, as opposed to using the curriculum, but it's often not practical for teachers to do stuff like that given what they're paid. :/<BR/><BR/>Personally I think the whole model of "stick a group of kids in a room in desks all in rows and expect them to listen to someone lecture at them all day" is flawed. People have different learning styles to begin with, and while I know it's important for kids to sometimes learn stuff they they can't see the point of learning, or that seems "boring", and that totally free-form exploratory classes don't always work for everyone, I do wish there were more options.<BR/><BR/>And...again back to the educational conditions you described for the autistic kids at your junior high, I think it's really important for people to know that stuff like that goes on. :/ You'd be amazed (well you in particular might not be, but a lot of people would) how common it is for people (even some autistic people) to just presume that any problems an autistic person has in life are caused by "the autism" as opposed to stuff like educational neglect. I was lucky to have as good an educational experience as I did, even with the really awful parts (and with the fact that I had to do most of my actual learning outside the classroom, because I often couldn't follow lectures, etc.).AnneChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940566603711834053noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-66317569161640960012008-08-30T07:46:00.000-07:002008-08-30T07:46:00.000-07:00Howdy again. Still reading.<BR/><BR/>To relate, which is I suppose one of those things words are for, I also had an awful elementary school experience. My fourth grade teacher would call me "stupid" or you "stupid boy" and 2nd through <BR/>6th grade I was consistently sent to the office and ostracized. <BR/><BR/>Funny note: I actually <I>did</I> read the dictionary for fun. <BR/><BR/>Still, despite the issues, I had very supportive teachers in junior high and high school. Now I'm studying physics at an Ivy League college with a $45,000 scholarship each year. <BR/><BR/>I don't think I have autism or anything, but I think I can relate. I faced social incoherence to the point of actually locking myself away after burning out from too much conversation (which is similar if I recall)... leaving to just <B>wait</B> outside of school or in a bathroom. Plus I had some sort of nervous twitch with my hands (definitely attracted attention). When I am particularly excited I still dig my hands into to each others so as not to bug people (one habit for another). <BR/><BR/>Back to support: in high school I had a wonderful English teacher who was the only grader I've ever had who would fail every paper she 'couldn't understand'. She attacked my pedantry and forced me into communication with others. She also pushed me to take ten college classes in high school, graduate early, and apply out-of-state. <BR/><BR/>But to compare, I signed up in 9th grade to help tutor the autistic kids at my junior high school. A couple of them suffered from legitimate mental retardation, but not the two or three that I worked with. And the program was terrible. There was no substance, education, or assistance. I was basically working as a babysitter to deal with those the school didn't want to. They did not have any kind of schoolwork to do. I don't even really remember them having anything to do. I do remember theoretical spelling words that they didn't practice, and I gathered that one kid I was working with was actually quite smart, but he was scared to death by me. He wouldn't talk to me and he never did. Shifting through different groups of unfamiliar people every year... is that even helpful? I felt useless just sitting there, making sure he was staying in his seat, but with no responsibility to teach him or see that he did any work. He would speak normally to a couple people (so I knew he was at least coherent) but never to me. But all of the adults spoke to him like he was two. <BR/><BR/>I don't know enough about special education programs to know what works and what doesn't, or what should be done at what age to whom, but the entire ordeal seemed sickeningly ineffective. <BR/><BR/>ULTIMATELY:<BR/>Existence is Wonderful<BR/><BR/>A delicious thesis. <BR/>Glad to see you reiterate it so often in references to anything from your electrical engineering to Christmas with your SO. Good work. <BR/><BR/>Back to silent fandom. I just found this entry particularly poignant in relation to my own experience.<BR/><BR/>-SSidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10408630172064328822noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-74909499551381209102008-08-29T05:27:00.000-07:002008-08-29T05:27:00.000-07:00I remember making something similar in fifth grade that had a page for every kid in the class -- not as a class project, but just because I had read a children's book in which a group of girls did that, and I thought the other kids would like it.<BR/><BR/>Unfortunately, it ended up being full of snarky comments about everyone, and the teacher took it away.abfhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01228622726560993968noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-57208513467421092882008-08-27T18:28:00.000-07:002008-08-27T18:28:00.000-07:00<B>Bev</B>: <BR/><BR/>Thanks. I just recently remembered that I actually had this "yearbook" in the file box in my closet, and the post sort of grew out of it.AnneChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940566603711834053noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-40802555569937594742008-08-27T18:24:00.000-07:002008-08-27T18:24:00.000-07:00<B>JimF</B>: <BR/><BR/>Regarding the "advanced" thing: funny you should make that observation, as many of the kids I went to school with did indeed seem to be in rather a hurry to "grow up". I remember one of the girls mentioning (in third or fourth grade!) that she was planning on eating as much chicken as she could, because she'd heard farmers were pumping hormones into chickens that would hasten "development" in females. <BR/><BR/>It was...surreal.AnneChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940566603711834053noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-21276064504352449782008-08-27T17:50:00.000-07:002008-08-27T17:50:00.000-07:00Found on a blog<BR/>( http://blogapotamus.3dbhosting.com/?p=573 )<BR/><BR/>"The real damage was done not by physical cruelty, but just by good old fashioned meanness. . . Since our brains are hardwired for survival, the same chemicals that caused the burning pit of shame in the stomach simultaneously cause the incident to be burned indelibly into the memory, in the hopes that it will aid us in avoiding such another incident in the future. So, may I just say, thanks a fucking HEAP, brain, for reminding me of the time in 4th grade when I asked one of my tormentors (a former friend) why she was being so awful to me and she replied, “I don’t know, it’s just fun.” (Said girl went on, in high school, to become our class president, head of the National Honor Society, captain of the cheerleading squad, homecoming queen and is now working in International Law the last I heard.)"jimfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04975754342950063440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-86492973107833399822008-08-27T17:10:00.000-07:002008-08-27T17:10:00.000-07:00&gt; . . .Jodee Blanco. . .<BR/><BR/>There&#39;s an interview with her at<BR/>http://publicradioredux.com/episodes/<BR/>2008/03/05/jodee-blanco-please-stop-laughing-usjimfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04975754342950063440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-4601098177268692852008-08-27T07:44:00.000-07:002008-08-27T07:44:00.000-07:00I'm a little taken aback by just how advanced 5th-graders are, on the evidence of those "yearbook" entries. The bland sentiments of good fellowship (and even the handwriting) wouldn't be out of place in a high-school yearbook (or even an office retirement card).<BR/><BR/>As far as the nastiness goes -- I spent an hour in a bookstore a few weeks ago with Jodee Blanco's _Please Stop Laughing At Me_<BR/>http://www.amazon.com/Please-Stop-Laughing-At-Inspirational/dp/1580628362<BR/>(the customer reviews are **extremely** mixed).<BR/><BR/>Ms. Blanco recalls giving her senior yearbook to a boy to sign -- a boy on whom she had a secret crush, but who sometimes gave her a hard time. He wrote "Go f*ck yourself b*tch, because nobody else ever will." Years later, at a reunion, she struck up a conversation with this guy, and she admitted that she'd liked him, and much to her surprise he replied that he'd liked her too, but that he could never have been nice to her in public because she was popularity poison. She then asked him "Do you **remember** what you wrote in my yearbook?" He remembered.jimfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04975754342950063440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25425497.post-19954267955202608042008-08-27T07:19:00.000-07:002008-08-27T07:19:00.000-07:00Anne,<BR/>This is a GREAT post! The photgraphs of the evidence are chilling. It's also shocking how little some people seem to change over the years. So often the pressure to conform just becomes a bit more subtle. Thanks for writing this, and thanks for the link.Bevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06766614739853100172noreply@blogger.com