A few days ago one of my students asked what my favorite thing to do at recess was. I had to tell her that as a child I didn’t like recess. I don’t lie to my students. She asked for more details and I let her know that I didn’t have my own friends back then. This is not entirely true of course, there were periods in elementary that I did have friends. These didn’t last long, and I mostly hung out with one of my brothers’ friends.

Then last night I began reminiscing about back then. My situation was not entirely due to my autism, but I am sure that it exasperated it. I moved to several elementary schools when I was young. In my 8 years of elementary, I had at least 4 schools. (Grade 7 was elementary when I was young): Steeples, Sparwood Elementary, Gordon Terrace, Amy Woodland. I didn’t really have much time to make friends at each.

I remember specifically at 3 of these schools I would spend my recesses walking circles around the entire school. Every recess I would walk in circles watching others play. Sometimes I was alone, sometimes not. I remember at Amy Woodland, I would have one of the parent volunteers walk with me. Mrs. Nadeau. I also remember having a girl named Tanya check up on me several times.

I remember having a kind of phobia relating to group play. If I had 1 or 2 people to play with I was happy, but any more than that and I would start to panic. Team sports in P.E. class were tough for this reason. I remember having 2 boys I thought were friends tell me once that they couldn’t play with me anymore. I never found out what I did to make them say that.

I remember having my blackouts every now and then during elementary. Something or someone would get me so lost in my head I would actually blackout and my body would react to things. I used to believe I had a monster hidden in me. Some of the things my monster did, that I don’t remember, but I was told by either other kids, my principal, or my parents include:

• hitting a child in the head with my metal lunch box.
• running away from a group and smacking into a wall at full speed.
• running away from another child / group and running into a tree.
• throwing a rock on the school roof, which slid down and hit someone on the head.
• kicking a metal door repeatedly
• throwing someone into a snowbank.
• headbutting someone.

Once I was so stimulated, that I knew I would black out and I was terrified, so I walked as fast as I could away from a group, and ran into my cousin. (I think it was my cousin). I remember yelling at him to hit me, and screamed at him to hit me. Eventually he did, and I lay on the ground clutching my stomach. The pain helped me focus and block out all the other sensations. At that time, I remember thinking I deserved it.

That cousin (step-cousin actually), never played with me again. Not at school, not at home, not at family gatherings. Another relationship destroyed.

I didn’t know how to be a good friend at that time. I didn’t know what was expected of me. TV & Movies didn’t help explain that stuff, and books didn’t either.

As an educator, I watch close to see if my students ever need an ear. I am still often oblivious to what they are really feeling, or need. My students over the last couple of years have asked me several times, “Mr. Chad, Why do you keep asking if I am Ok?” It’s usually because I misread a situation. I’m older and more experienced, but still cannot read facial expressions perfectly yet. But I would rather ask, than not.

I have a student this year who loves to stay and read peacefully in the library during recess time. I always remind him to keep an eye on the clock, which of course he doesn’t. I think back about how nice it would have been to just have a quiet room to read in during my recesses. Maybe my monster wouldn’t have been so bad.