"It’s funny, how I seem to have tripped and fallen into just about every good thing that ever happened to me"---This from TC seems to fit a lot of us. Me for sure. I also agree about 12 years of school as for me it was like prison.
I was lucky to have been sent to private schools after one bad (first grade) and one mediocre year in public school (third grade). (Second grade was a private school which my parents chose for us because the local public school was ~80% black, which they didn't think was a good idea for us. My mother's early diagnosis of me being on the spectrum probably figured into that decision).
I also did very badly in elementary school (until the fifth grade, when my brilliant teacher worked his ass off to get me on some kind of path). fabulous standardized test scores, and precocious reading, but with absolutely no semblance of "good behavior." there was just more exciting shit to do, like sneaking out of class and wandering the halls. it was the '50s, when nobody knew 'nothin' 'bout no spectrum. I was just a "behavior problem" with a nasty stammer (I still get nervous when I'm in any group in which I know I'll have to say my name).
I frequently find myself wondering whether or not I am more or less fortunate for having grown up when I did...
I think we're fortunate because, had they known about aspergers/autism then, they'd have done what they did with every other "disease" - institutionalized us, which would have made the problem worse if not destroyed us.
back then, you're probably right. in fact, I knew one or two quite well-heeled families who had VERY autistic kids and the reaction was to throw up their hands and find a "nice place."
a close friend of my father (and a family we all were friends with) had a kid who was as asperger as you can get. from the age of three he could tell you on what day any date occurred and, later, when he was old enough to gamble, his card- counting skills got him banned from every casino in the country. his parents ran around maniacally trying to find out "what was wrong." finally, about forty-odd years ago, a very "well thought of" psychiatrist decided he was a "highly functional schizophrenic." about fifteen years ago, my mother was talking about him and repeated the diagnosis. at that point, I'd worked with a good number of aspies and told her that the schizophrenia diagnosis was idiotic. she argued that after all, I was merely a psychiatric social worker and this guy was a big shot. I tried to explain to her that when the diagnosis was given, the entire profession was almost completely ignorant about the spectrum. I think she "humored" me because, as my mother, she knew that I could sometimes seem a little grandiose about what I "thought" I knew (notice I said "seem"...in these discussions, I was usually right).
in any event, Danny (the kid's name) managed to have a pretty nice life on his own terms, minus the neuroleptics he repeatedly rejected. of course, his father's financial legacy has been a big help, but I've heard that his gambling skills contributed to his resources a great deal.
did I ever tell you about the aspie kid I worked with who wanted to be psychiatrist and whose special skill was knowing immediately what anybody's psychological state was at a glance (disproving the common misconception that aspies are in some way "emotionally deficient.". he wanted to get into Bronx Science and did. this was about fourteen years ago, so he's probably in the middle of his residency. the only other being who possessed that particular skill was my late English Shepherd, Meg.
that was in no way meant to downplay the kid's genius...Meg's skill is not uncommon in dogs but extremely uncommon in homo sapiens.
Yeah, what I was thinking was that they'd probably not have institutionalized a child with Asperger's syndrome, they'd probably have stuck you on drugs, and not any that would have been actually helpful (or even any fun) and some that would have had long range negative effects.
they weren't medicating kids on a regular basis in the '50s and even most of the '60s. they barely had anything they'd have considered appropriate for kids back then (Dexedrine was strictly for moms, although I DID have access to my mom's and she wasn't counting them, if you catch my drift).
I did fine in the private schools I went to, and I actually did fine in third grade, but it wasn't fun. In fact, when I got switched permanently to private school in 4th grade, the first few months I didn't think I was learning. Why? Because I wasn't having an unpleasant time, a condition I associated with learning. Yet, more than 60 years later, my learning in fourth grade, and after that, has stuck with me.
My mother diagnosed me as being on the spectrum probably when I was 3. I learned about the diagnosis less than five years ago, from the daughter of family friends--Amy--whose mother I suspect was the only person my mother told, and she told Amy. (I asked one of my mother's best friends if she knew about it, and she didn't.)
At the time my mother made the diagnosis, she was a grad student in psych at the University of Washington, and I think the only--or one of a very few experts--in the US was in that department.
if you're at all close to me in age (and you seem to be not that far), I have to give your mom a lot of credit for her prescience. pretty fucking brilliant. if she's still around, please quote me to her.
Alas, she's been gone for 23 years. If it hadn't been for the MS, she might still be around. Her couch potato sister with the decadent diet (as a kid I LOVED visiting my aunt and uncle's house) lived to be 90, and a cousin of theirs made it to 104. (My mother exercised until the stroke, despite the disability--swimming, and riding a British racing tricycle, with help getting on and off from my father, who rode with her. And, yes, my mother was brilliant. Brilliant family. My mother and her sister both had PhDs (and my mother could easily have had a second one). Their mother had a PhD (labor relations, 1915).
As for my age, I was born in the first year of the Eisenhower Administration.
Cool stuff, TC! (And you had a WAY better trip through the 60's than I!)
Me too Pat.
"It’s funny, how I seem to have tripped and fallen into just about every good thing that ever happened to me"---This from TC seems to fit a lot of us. Me for sure. I also agree about 12 years of school as for me it was like prison.
I was lucky to have been sent to private schools after one bad (first grade) and one mediocre year in public school (third grade). (Second grade was a private school which my parents chose for us because the local public school was ~80% black, which they didn't think was a good idea for us. My mother's early diagnosis of me being on the spectrum probably figured into that decision).
I also did very badly in elementary school (until the fifth grade, when my brilliant teacher worked his ass off to get me on some kind of path). fabulous standardized test scores, and precocious reading, but with absolutely no semblance of "good behavior." there was just more exciting shit to do, like sneaking out of class and wandering the halls. it was the '50s, when nobody knew 'nothin' 'bout no spectrum. I was just a "behavior problem" with a nasty stammer (I still get nervous when I'm in any group in which I know I'll have to say my name).
I frequently find myself wondering whether or not I am more or less fortunate for having grown up when I did...
I think we're fortunate because, had they known about aspergers/autism then, they'd have done what they did with every other "disease" - institutionalized us, which would have made the problem worse if not destroyed us.
back then, you're probably right. in fact, I knew one or two quite well-heeled families who had VERY autistic kids and the reaction was to throw up their hands and find a "nice place."
a close friend of my father (and a family we all were friends with) had a kid who was as asperger as you can get. from the age of three he could tell you on what day any date occurred and, later, when he was old enough to gamble, his card- counting skills got him banned from every casino in the country. his parents ran around maniacally trying to find out "what was wrong." finally, about forty-odd years ago, a very "well thought of" psychiatrist decided he was a "highly functional schizophrenic." about fifteen years ago, my mother was talking about him and repeated the diagnosis. at that point, I'd worked with a good number of aspies and told her that the schizophrenia diagnosis was idiotic. she argued that after all, I was merely a psychiatric social worker and this guy was a big shot. I tried to explain to her that when the diagnosis was given, the entire profession was almost completely ignorant about the spectrum. I think she "humored" me because, as my mother, she knew that I could sometimes seem a little grandiose about what I "thought" I knew (notice I said "seem"...in these discussions, I was usually right).
in any event, Danny (the kid's name) managed to have a pretty nice life on his own terms, minus the neuroleptics he repeatedly rejected. of course, his father's financial legacy has been a big help, but I've heard that his gambling skills contributed to his resources a great deal.
did I ever tell you about the aspie kid I worked with who wanted to be psychiatrist and whose special skill was knowing immediately what anybody's psychological state was at a glance (disproving the common misconception that aspies are in some way "emotionally deficient.". he wanted to get into Bronx Science and did. this was about fourteen years ago, so he's probably in the middle of his residency. the only other being who possessed that particular skill was my late English Shepherd, Meg.
that was in no way meant to downplay the kid's genius...Meg's skill is not uncommon in dogs but extremely uncommon in homo sapiens.
Yeah, what I was thinking was that they'd probably not have institutionalized a child with Asperger's syndrome, they'd probably have stuck you on drugs, and not any that would have been actually helpful (or even any fun) and some that would have had long range negative effects.
they weren't medicating kids on a regular basis in the '50s and even most of the '60s. they barely had anything they'd have considered appropriate for kids back then (Dexedrine was strictly for moms, although I DID have access to my mom's and she wasn't counting them, if you catch my drift).
I did fine in the private schools I went to, and I actually did fine in third grade, but it wasn't fun. In fact, when I got switched permanently to private school in 4th grade, the first few months I didn't think I was learning. Why? Because I wasn't having an unpleasant time, a condition I associated with learning. Yet, more than 60 years later, my learning in fourth grade, and after that, has stuck with me.
My mother diagnosed me as being on the spectrum probably when I was 3. I learned about the diagnosis less than five years ago, from the daughter of family friends--Amy--whose mother I suspect was the only person my mother told, and she told Amy. (I asked one of my mother's best friends if she knew about it, and she didn't.)
At the time my mother made the diagnosis, she was a grad student in psych at the University of Washington, and I think the only--or one of a very few experts--in the US was in that department.
This story elicited the revelation from Amy.
https://www.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/The-home-forum/2020/0805/heeding-her-invitation-six-decades-later
if you're at all close to me in age (and you seem to be not that far), I have to give your mom a lot of credit for her prescience. pretty fucking brilliant. if she's still around, please quote me to her.
Alas, she's been gone for 23 years. If it hadn't been for the MS, she might still be around. Her couch potato sister with the decadent diet (as a kid I LOVED visiting my aunt and uncle's house) lived to be 90, and a cousin of theirs made it to 104. (My mother exercised until the stroke, despite the disability--swimming, and riding a British racing tricycle, with help getting on and off from my father, who rode with her. And, yes, my mother was brilliant. Brilliant family. My mother and her sister both had PhDs (and my mother could easily have had a second one). Their mother had a PhD (labor relations, 1915).
As for my age, I was born in the first year of the Eisenhower Administration.
A mere child! :-)
my sentiment exactly. I have four years on you and Tom has four on me. do you think this might somehow be...MEANINGFUL?
Hardly. I'm 154 in base six.