Learn

School is too much. Gym three times a week and almost always involving people throwing things and running. Football is a good example. When I don't know what to do, I stand still. When I stand still, people expect me to move. When they expect me to move, they slam into me. And slamming into me means instant meltdown.

Yet the gym teacher took a full minute to notice my rocking on my heels and sobbing.

I've got to wonder--do these teachers even know what to look for in a person who may have autism? Especially if it's mild? I've begun to doubt it. They teach that to teachers of the younger grades--sometimes.

Take me as an example. I was seemingly bullied in first and second grade. My teacher mentioned to my mom that I smiled too much. My mom thought that was an inappropriate comment, as I seemed to be happy-go-lucky at home. But my teacher ignored that from then on, because I was in the most advanced spelling group, I was reading middle school books, and I was doing advanced math. She ignored the fact that I struggled to hold the pencil to write and I couldn't control it to draw at all. She ignored the fact that I had an obsession with Cam Jansen, Bobbsey Twins, and Boxcar Children. She ignored the fact that I had no control over the volume of my voice--she actually thought that last one was a hearing problem.

In the higher grades, I continued to struggle with everything but academics. I was repeatedly refused an IEP in middle school because I have an eidetic memory. But now, that's changed. My grades are rapidly going down and I can't focus on my work. It's horrible. So finally, I'm going to be going through the evaluations. Finally.

But today was a lot to take in. I barely spoke after gym (seriously? Gym, first period, on Monday? Awful for anyone.) and I had a five-paragraph essay to write in history second block. I didn't even get halfway through. Luckily, the class has more time tomorrow to finish. Then, geometry with the sophomores. I was too exhausted to write out the distance formula in my problem of the day. But biology went better. The teacher's neurodivergent himself. We're good friends, and he knows that I sometimes need a minute.

That reminds me of a poem--a never-ending one--I'm currently writing. I'll type you a verse at the end of each post from now on.

Wish me luck with the evaluations, and let's hope gym on Wednesday goes a little better than today!

Every person has an attic.

Every attic has some dust.

Every attic tends to be filled

With a person's thoughts of lust.

(P.S. If anyone can tell where my inspiration has come from for the poem, I give you credit. I've named the background in a previous post, I'm sure. I love this topic.)