At what age did you realise YOU were the weird kid at school ….(I was 44)

Looking back, I often wonder if my entire childhood was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. Were the bits I enjoyed or thought I  did actually how I remember?

I was always in trouble at school. Always. You think of the punishment, and I bet I had it. Once, a teacher hit me with a ruler. Let me tell you why…

My relationship with the English language has always been a battle. I was assessed for dyslexia when I was around 23, and I thought I had a formal diagnosis. But I could not get a copy of the certificate once. So, maybe I don’t have a diagnosis of dyslexia. But the struggle remains. Today, for instance, I had a voice note full-on row with my best friend because I can’t pronounce ‘unapologetically,’  and I got very angry at myself.  It’s a constant uphill climb. I can’t spell a word or say it. Or I don’t get that it’s pronounced the same.

The other thing you need to know is that I ask ‘why’ all day long. I honestly can’t believe some things people say or do, and I have to ask them why. Sometimes, I need help understanding the context of a situation, and I will ask why. I am interested in many things, but mainly how people work. So, I will ask why- which is also one of the reasons I am excellent in my field of child protection- I am your gold standard of ‘professional curiosity.’ My ‘Why’s’have stopped children suffering significant harm. My curiosity, often seen as a nuisance, has actually been a boon in my professional life.

Anyway

Please take into account the above and that I am autistic (Obviously  undiagnosed in this situation but autistic all the same)

With all this in mind, picture the scene if you will

I’m around 8/9, so year 4/5. I can’t remember. But it definitely was not year 6.

It was an English lesson, and the topic was.

“Write three things you like about your house.”

Now, already that question would have had me stumped. I still have the paper I wrote the answers on because it caused such a shitstorm, but let’s play it through my head at that time.

I read it…thought about it..everyone was writing, and I said

“sir”

“yes”

“do you mean like what my house is made out of…like bricks?”

In fairness to the teacher, Mr More, this was after lunch. So he had already had me asking this kind of questions all day. I imagine he was very bored of me as I now realises as an adult, most people do get with me,

A big sigh

He does not look up from whatever he is doing at his desk

“No, in your house.”

Ok….this is good…he has narrowed it down for me…think….. think….. think

Hmmm

“Sir”

now an actual muttering under his breath

“Sir,” I say again

“What”

“Why does it have to be in your house? Can you have three things that leave the house like pets? Can it be things in a garden like….

I am stopped mid-sentence

“for god’s sake, Kendra, just three bloody things in your bloody house.”

He is bright red

The kids around me start sniggering. They have seen this before. Teachers are getting angry at me.

I flushed. Feeling the heat from my little school shoes to the tips of my ponytails

Growing up, adults would often get mad at me, and I did not understand why. Kids frequently laughed when this happened, and I again didn’t know why. To be fair, this is also an issue in my adult life to some extent.

Ok think

Think Kendra

Three things in your home….think, think, think

Yes! I have it

So, I start writing

Mr More announces that we must now swap our paper with the person next to us and read each other’s.

I’m cool with that. I hand mine to the person sitting next to me.

Look at their list

And go very red

The girl next to me list says something like

“in my home, I have a bed with pink bedding and flowers, and it’s soft.”

“I have a pet cat called Snowball, and I love her.”

“I have books that I read every day.”

Ahhhh…we may have a problem.

I looked at the girl who was reading mine, and she was sniggering. Her name was Michelle. Michelle was not very nice to me. Michelle was not my friend. She read mine, laughed, and then turned to her friend next to her and whispered. Both looked at my paper and laughed.

And then they looked at me.

I just sat there. I’m not quite sure what my reaction should be. So I said

“Why are you laughing?”

This made them laugh even more

So I laughed as well

Mr. More says, “Right quiet now, let’s pack away.”

But the girls are still laughing.

So I keep laughing

It was a little joke between us three like I had seen the other girls doing. Giggle, giggle. Ohh…..I thought…I like this…. I like being part of it.”

Mr More

“What is funny, girls? You can share with the class if you can’t keep quiet.”

The girls laugh harder

So do I

I am forcing the laughter. Looking back, I can tell you that it was very obvious I was pretending to laugh. Everyone is now looking.

I can’t even imagine what they were thinking. I would not have cared at the time. I did not have that kind of awareness. ( I am not sure I really have it now)

He got angry. The girls stopped laughing.

I continued the pretend laughing; I don’t know why. I can’t tell you.

But I am now sitting in a silent classroom doing what would have been the most awful pretend laugh all by myself. I just want to go and grab little me and run off with her at this point.

He asked me to stop.

I don’t

He tells me to stop.

I don’t

He tells me to stand up. I do. I am now not laughing.

And he loses it

“What the hell is wrong with you?” “You were not even really laughing.” “Why do you always act like that? Why can’t you act like everyone else?”

Why can’t you act like everyone else? That there has been a downfall in every area of my life

He says, “Right, you can tell me right now what was so funny.”

And what do you think I said?

Yup…I said, “No.”

He rages. Tells everyone to leave the class. The al scuttle out. He is furious and says.

“So, you’re telling me you just laughed at nothing…all that time.”

Yes. I say. I mean, it’s the truth (telling the truth…the second biggest downfall in my life)

Mr More is fuming. He is done. He has had it up to here with me, he says

Up to where I say

“ARGGHHH THATS IT” , he screams

And he has a ruler in his hand and says to me,

“Right, it must be whatever nonsense you wrote. Pick it up and read it to me.”

And I pick it up, and he says

“Right…read it out. What was so funny was that you ruined a whole lesson. “

“just the end of the lesson,” I said. Dead serious face as I am deadly serious

“JUST READ”. He shouts so loud I can taste his coffee breath.

Ok

“I don’t have anything in my house because I live in a flat.”

 I say in my loud reading voice.

Most of teh kids burst out laughing.

And before I knew what had happened, he struck me very hard with this long ruler across my hand.

It was very quick. I made a sound and pulled my hand away, dropping the paper. My fingers were on fire and bright red.

In an instant, he realized what he had done and was beside himself. He tried to reach out to me, but of course, I pulled away. I started crying. Suddenly, the head, Mr Hazle, appeared. Mayen Mr More was crying. I can’t remember.

But what I do remember is him saying over abd over

“I just can’t deal with her all the time; she does it on purpose!

I was left crying in that classroom for some time, just standing there, snot and tears over my face, holding my hand as it throbbed. No staff came.

However, my mum was in the playground to pick me up, and when my whole class came out and I didn’t shoe, she asked my friends where I was, and Donna, my best friend, said that Mr More was very angry with Kendra.

And so my mum found me alone and sobbing in the classroom. When she rushed in and saw me, she grabbed me, hugged me, and repeatedly asked what had happened.

All I could say was

“Why am I in trouble, Mum?”

I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know what went wrong.

Mt Hazle appeared and started explaining what had happened. He said that a teacher had hit my hand with a ruler because “She just keeps being extremely disruptive on purpose.”

 My mum got banned from the school that day. She was never allowed on the site again. I had to meet her down the road to be picked up. Mr More, so I heard, also found out that day what it feels like to be hit with something. Mr More did not teach me again.

I was teased for months after that.

For the whole thing. But mainly the pretend laughing I was doing.

I think I blocked a lot of that stuff out. To be fair, my teenage memories have dominated my thinking for a long time.

It was not until I got my diagnosis and started to learn and understand autism and masking and trauma truly and how when it’s all blended how it can look that I realize that when people talk about the weird kid at school, 100% of my primary school friends will be talking about me.

I once turned up on a non-school unfirm day in my PJs because … let’s guess who shall we….yes, Michelle ..told me that it was actually wear Pjs day and we could wear the same PJs as she had the same ones as me (Why I believed that I don’t know as she had never been to my house )

I only ate beetroot sandwiches for lunch for the entirety of year 5 because “I could not swallow” ( still a thing I can battel with now)

I wore winter moon boots throughout June and July to school.

I used to sit under the table to write.

I used to “talk” to the snails in the playground and spend my whole lunchtime removing all said snails to safety. And I once made a boy called Adams nosebleed for an hour when he stepped on a snail. I really like snails…what ya gonna do?

I had to turn the pages of books with my sleeve so I didn’t touch the paper.

The head teacher once asked me if I thought he was stupid. I said yes (my actual truth thought), and I got 100 lines that should have said “I will not be rude,” but I wrote “I was not rude” 100 times, and they made my mum take me home.

Many times, the whole class was invited to a birthday party, and I was not ( in my entire primary school existence, I went to two birthday parties )

But the one that tipped everyone over the edge

I took my hamster, Daniel, to school in my jumper. When I got to school, I thought he might be hot in my jumper, so I thought it would be good to put him somewhere cool and quiet. To be fair, this took a lot of thinking on my part, as school is very busy. And it had to be somewhere safe.

So I put Daniel in my teacher’s draw.

She found Daniel a few hours later. He was fine, eating her lunch and just doing hamster stuff. However, she thought he was a mouse and started screaming, so I walked over, looked at her, and put Daniel down my jumper. I carried him down my jumper all the time.

Anyway, just for future reference, you are not allowed to take your hamster to school (not a single policy stating this, but..ya know… whatever), and…you can’t put the hamster in people draws (so where exactly do you want people to put them?) and…. Adults will think you are putting rabid mice down your top if you don’t explain yourself correctly.

Just in case you ever find yourself in that situation

I was called (Mousy Housey by the kids for months…but then I learned how to fight…but that’s for another day, children)

So I was 44 when I realised I was the weird kid at school….how old was you?

Below is a clip that I like to use when I try to explain what being autistic feels like to me. If you have 5 minutes, please watch it because Hanna Gadsby explains it a lot better than I do.