Ok so this is the story of my childhood and teenage years, and about my struggles in school and my social life which has shaped me into who I am now.
I was born on May 1, 1989 in Northridge, California. As an infant, I was like any other little baby: fat, happy, and curious. I was the picture-perfect child. However, when I got a little older and my parents decided to enroll me in "mommy and me" classes, it was clear that I was different. I had more interest in the air vents on the floor than in what the other kids were doing. My mom would invite this other little boy and his mom who lived in our neighborhood to come over so I would have someone to play with. But he was rowdy, and I was selfish and didn't like him touching my stuff. One day I got back at him by hitting him. His mom said to my mom that it would be a good idea to enroll me in preschool, however, it wasn't until after my family moved from our old neighborhood in Reseda, California, up to Concord, California, that I started attending preschool.
I started preschool at 2-1/2 years of age. I was first enrolled in a small, fairly structured program, and although I did not like being separated from my mother I liked being there well enough. However, my mom decided she wanted to enroll me in a co-op so she could volunteer there and keep an eye on me. So in the fall of that year I was enrolled at Clayton Valley Parent Preschool. My mom had heard that it was "a very warm, friendly environment." Unlike the first preschool program I was in, this one was very unstructured, the only times the kids were called to order was circle time and snack time. The rest was free-play all day, the kids could pick any activity and do it. There were probably 30 kids in the class, all running around. Very chaotic. I did not handle chaos too well but I was too young to speak my mind. I was in that program for about a year and a half. The first year I really didn't show how unhappy I was, but come my second year in that class and I had had enough. During circle time, I would sit in another room by myself. I was very withdrawn, and when made to do something I showed my frustration by being mean to the other kids.
Around this time, my parents started to notice that something wasn't right. Apart from my problems in school, my parents noticed that I became scared and anxious in a variety of situations, something that most parents would dismiss as "normal childhood fears". They started to become concerned, so they took me to a psychologist. The psychologist diagnosed me with Asperger's Syndrome but claimed that she "wasn't an expert" and tolt my parents to get a second opinion. So my parents took me to the "expert", who said that I did not have Asperger's, but OCD instead. Nonetheless, the label of Asperger's Syndrome stuck with me through all of my childhood and into my teens.
Now knowing that I had some challenges and that the school program I was in was not serving me well, my parents placed me in a special-education preschool program at Gregory Gardens School. This program was a lot better, smaller classes, and more structure. The one challenge that I did have, however, was ignoring kids who weren't behaving themselves. The first person who I considered somewhat of a friend was this kid named David, who was constantly getting into trouble. My parents weren't happy to hear I was getting into trouble, but didn't do much other than punish me when I misbehaved and rewarded me for good behavior. Also, as was the case with the previous school, I often did not want to go to school, and my parents still were concerned about my seemingly high levels of social anxiety.
Because of my challenges, I stayed an extra year in preschool, and started attending kindergarten at Westwood Elementary School at the age of six. Once again, I was in a mainstream school setting and had trouble adapting. I was not used to the longer school hours and being separated from my mom. I often did not want to go to school, but went anyway. Once again I became friends with one of the "bad kids", a kid named Frank. Frank and I would always make "bathroom jokes" during class, resulting in us being put in time-out, which my parents would punish me for when I got home. Frank and I also got in trouble at recess, I remember one incident when Frank purposely threw one of the school balls over the fence and out of school property. Frank and I got into a lot of trouble, but I considered him to be my buddy. Also, that year I had what I considered to be my first crush. Sarah Sheehan was a girl in my class who's very busy mother could not find time to drive her home from school, so she would carpool with us. I liked that a lot, and could hardly keep my mind off of her during class. It broke my heart when eventually her mom decided to place her in a full-time day care, putting an end to us driving her home. I was under the false impression that she didn't like me and therefore started being mean to her. There was one incident when Frank and I started pushing her around during recess and I got in trouble for biting her (which I didn't do but the stupid principal didn't listen to me). Towards the end of that year I was on a medication called Tofranil, which was supposed to help me with my anxiety and worries. It was also the year when I first started seeing Dr. David O'Grady, who I still see today.
First grade was much worse. On the very first day I broke down crying because of the longer hours. Eventually it had to be arraigned that I would only attend for half the day. Although Frank and I were no longer in the same class, we still hung out together at recess. Our behavior became even more problematic, and my mom started to become concerned that he was just getting me in trouble for his own amusement and that he was a bad influence. Eventually he got me in trouble for something he did and my mom made me sever all ties with him. Still, I found other ways to get in trouble and the teacher (who we liked a lot) developed a system to try and discipline me, she would keep track of all my good deeds and bad deeds and I would be rewarded or punished accordingly. My anxiety was greater than ever, I had stopped taking Tofranil and was first put on Zoloft, then Luvox. Luvox disagreed with me greatly and it was under the influence of that medication that I began having suicidal thoughts. I kept saying things like "I hate my life, and I wish I was dead!" both at school and at home. One time, shortly after learning about the fate of President Lincoln, I pretended to call John Wilkes Booth on the phone and ask him to come over and kill me. I would take kitchen knives out of the drawer with the intent of stabbing myself, but never actually came close. One time I even threatened my mom with a knife. Eventually I was taken off Luvox and put back on Zoloft, which seemed to agree with me better and the suicidal thoughts went away, at least for the time being. Towards the end of my first grade year I managed to calm down my bad behavior somewhat and befriended Sammy Bewley, who became somewhat of a sister figure to me through the remainder of my first grade year.
Still though something had to be done regarding my school situation, as it was clear that I wasn't going to succeed unless some accommodations were made. My parents gave me a choice, I could either stay where I was, go to an alternative school where you could choose your own activities (which we later visited and found that it was not a match for me due to the lack of structure) or else go to school for part of the day and be home-schooled the rest of the day. I chose being home-schooled. For both my second and third grade years I was tutored by my mom and dad for part of the day, and went to a resource class (still at Westwood Elementary) for a couple of hours the rest of the school day. My main challenge during that time was doing my work without getting distracted, as well as not becoming overwhelmed. While initially frustrated with me, the resource specialist, Ms. Nielson, found a way to keep me motivated. Still, I was in a class for kids with learning disabilites, and my challenges were not academic, they were social. My parents searched for the "miracle school" that provided smaller classes but was not strictly for kids with learning disabilities. Westwood did not offer that service, so it meant that I had to switch schools once again.
I started going to a special day class at Monte Gardens Elementary School in the fourth grade. While my parents initially hoped that I would be able to transition into the class full time, it never happened, and I was still home-schooled for part of the day. In addition, I received Occupational Therapy, which again was meant for kids with disabilities, rather than social challenges. I still had issues regarding getting my work done, and it seemed that I would let social issues get in the way, especially when it came to girls. There were a couple of girls who I liked but was unsure of how to express it, and ended up hurting them. Looking back on this, I don't understand why I felt I had to hurt them, but I did. Outside of school, my mom had me go to social groups for kids with Asperger's Syndrome in the hopes it would teach me some social skills, which I absolutely hated. Deep down I knew I did not have the condition, but nonetheless was treated as somewhat of a retard. Perhaps it was because I was shy and unsure of how to act in social situations, which in turn made me act out inappropriately at school. While I had friends in school, I was too shy to invite them over, and lost touch with them when I left Monte Gardens at the end of my 5th grade year.
I was enrolled in another special day class at Pine Hollow Middle School, still being home-schooled for part of the day, and still unable to attend school for more than a couple hours. Once again, I had trouble getting my work done, mainly due to lack of motivation. Once again, crushes on girls drove me to act in ways that were inappropriate. In addition to all that, I was becoming increasingly anxious over non-school related things, such as worrying about my cat. I now was taking a couple different medications at once, none of which seemed to help me in ways other than making it easier for me to sleep at night. Due to my problems at school, I was under the constant watch of behavioral specialists, and was treated like a bomb about to go off at any moment. My behavioral specialist told my parents about a special school for kids with emotional problems called the Floyd I. Marchus school. The Marchus School had small classes which resulted in more teacher-student contact. It also had group therapy sessions so that students could discuss conflicts that they were having. But it also had specially trained counselors who could help the students with personal problems. It was the miracle school that my parents had been searching for for me for many years. My parents considered having me go there for the remainder of middle school, however, I finished up my middle school career at Pine Hollow.
The summer between eighth and ninth grade was a tough one, as I had checked myself into a psych ward for attempting to cut my wrists (I didn't so much as make a mark on them, still I felt I should stay there). I was released the next morning upon being told I didn't belong in a place like that.
I began attending the Marchus School in 9th grade. With the exception of the first two weeks I was there, I attended school for the full day for the first time since the first grade. I did not understand why I was being made to go to that school, which I viewed as the asylum where they kept all the crazy kids. I knew I did not belong there. It seemed like most of the kids had problems that I could not relate to, most of them involving their families. I felt that the contrast between my lifestyle and theirs was too great. I felt that I was better than they were, so I quickly grew to hate the lot of them. Was I really that troubled? I became angry, and began to show it by once again acting out in ways that were totally uncalled for. I had a lot of absences, picked fights with other kids, and destroyed school property. My intention was to be as rebellious as I could so that I could convince my parents, as well as the school staff, that I was a hopeless case and should be taken out of the school. But my school counselor, Mr. Gallenkamp, told me that the best way out was to calm down my act and eventually would be able to go to one of their less-restrictive Satellite classes located on comprehensive high school campuses. And I did managed to calm down my act, although sometimes I had to fight hard in order to prevent myself from losing my cool.
I chose to go to the Del Amigo satellite class which was located at a small continuation high school. My sophomore year was much better than my freshman year. I began to take general education classes, which was something I hadn't done since the first grade. I was saying yes to a lot of new challenges. However, my sophomore year was very uneventful, and towards the end of the school year I was starting to get fed up with some of the negative attitudes of a lot of my classmates. I thought it wasn't good for me to be around people like that. I also felt that it would be a good idea to go back to my home high school simply because it would be good to say I went to a regular high school. But the school didn't have an opening for me, so I remained at Del Amigo.
I started my junior year in very low spirits. I was feeling kind of depressed because I did not want to remain part of the Marchus program. I began to distance myself from my classmates and fully integrated myself into the Del Amigo classes. That turned out to be a good thing, as I proved that I could handle a full school schedule. I also began to branch out socially and started making friends.
A new chapter in my high school journey began with the arrival of Holly Johnson at Del Amigo. It was spring 2007, the second semester of my junior year. I had a crush on Holly from the moment I first laid eyes on her. She had beautiful, long red hair, gorgeous eyes, and was nice and slender. She had very long French nails and wore a stud in her nose. She was very flirty and bubbly. She made going to my classes a lot more enjoyable. The only problem was I was too shy to talk to her. I knew that she was way out of my league. Everyone, my friends and family, was encouraging me to talk to her, but I couldn't. Not unless I improved myself first. Over the summer I worked out to get more in shape. I grew my hair out and began dressing like the way I dress now, rather than the preppy, conservative way I used to dress. I did it all for Holly, and I hoped she would be impressed by the new me.
On the first day of my senior year I went looking for Holly, but she was nowhere to be found. I asked my friends where she went, and they told me that she had went to a different school. That really broke my heart. I once again considered leaving Del Amigo for my home school but the counselors told me it wasn't worth it. They told me that remaining in the Marchus program would help me out in the long term because they had services that I could use that weren't available to the general public. So I stayed.
The rest of my senior year was fairly uneventful. I proved to myself though that I could handle college classes (I took Appliance Repair at my community college) and that I was a hard worker. However, it occurred to me that school was not just about hard work on academics, but also social work. So I went back into my main class and started hanging out with the people who came to be some of the best friends I have ever had!
I made the decision to give the Senior Speech at my graduation. It was originally something that I had no intention of doing, but my counselor told me that he was very proud of all my achievements and it occurred to me that I should give the speech. But it wasn't your standard graduation speech. Using subtle humor, I told the story that I basically just told you, about how negative I was in the beginning, and how I completely turned myself around by simply saying "Yes" to the challenge of attending the Marchus school. The school staff praised my speech as one of the best they'd ever heard!
That's basically how I got to where I am today. I can say that I can cope a lot better now and am able to do a lot more things by myself. I still have a lot of things to learn about the world and there still are times when I feel hopeless, but I'm not giving up. I enjoy reflecting on where I was before and how I got to where I am now. It makes me proud.
