Guest post by Rylie VanOrsdol
When I was in early elementary school, I thought everyone experienced the world the way I did. Then, in 5th grade while working with a group of kids on math at school, the answer to the problem was 30. I commented, “Well that’s a nice red number.” You can imagine the ridicule and chaos that ensued. I decided to start keeping things to myself. In retrospect I should have taken a hint from my third and fourth grade public school teachers, who chastised me for coloring around the numbers and letters I had written in pencil on my worksheets in “their” color, when I was finished early in class. I was a well behaved student and didn’t understand why this angered them so much. I didn’t want to be “bad”.
When I was in early elementary school, I thought everyone experienced the world the way I did. Then, in 5th grade while working with a group of kids on math at school, the answer to the problem was 30. I commented, “Well that’s a nice red number.” You can imagine the ridicule and chaos that ensued. I decided to start keeping things to myself. In retrospect I should have taken a hint from my third and fourth grade public school teachers, who chastised me for coloring around the numbers and letters I had written in pencil on my worksheets in “their” color, when I was finished early in class. I was a well behaved student and didn’t understand why this angered them so much. I didn’t want to be “bad”.
When I was being home schooled in 6th grade, I abruptly came to my mom crying and very upset. It startled and scared her because I didn’t have outbursts like that. She was worried something was seriously wrong. I asked through my sobs, “If something was wrong with me, would you tell me?”. My mom was so surprised by my questions because I was a “great student, well liked by my peers and an all around terrific kid”. I continued, “Do I have a disability that you are hiding from me?”. She reassured me that I was more than fine. The conversation ended.
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