When I was a substitute teacher, I would usually only accept assignments (via computer) that were in subjects I felt comfortable supervising. But one day, my only choice was a special education assignment. The reason I avoided it normally was that I felt the students deserved an adult trained to be of the best assistance to them.

Once I got to the school and room I was covering, I was relieved. They required a certain adult-to-student ratio, and I was just there to make sure that was met. The three other SpecEd teachers ran the class, and I helped supervise.

The first activity was a sharing exercise. The students sat in a circle, and then one at a time, they got up and shared how they were feeling, and then anything else they’d like to share. The main teacher was calling the students up one by one, and the first few bounced up and happily shared. But then, one boy, “Johnny”, just sat in his chair with his arms crossed, ignoring the teacher. Not making an issue of it, she just continued with the rest of the class.

After all the other students had shared, she walked back over to Johnny, knelt, and began talking to him gently.

Teacher: “Hey, Johnny. How’re you feeling today?”

Johnny: *Curtly* “I feel stubborn!”

And that answered why Johnny didn’t participate earlier: he felt stubborn. At least he was honest about it.

It’s the second day of high school class after Christmas break. My son is in detention, and I am in the vice principal’s office to discuss it.

Me: “Why does my son have to serve detention?”

Vice Principal: “He has an unexcused absence.”

Me: “And when was that?”

Vice Principal: “He missed the first day back from break.”

Me: “He was at Denver’s Stapleton Airport. It was shut down because of heavy snow. His flight the day before was canceled. He didn’t get a flight out until yesterday afternoon, too late to come to class.”

Vice Principal: “That makes it an unexcused absence.”

Me: “It was not his fault.”

Vice Principal: “You should have called to say the flight was canceled.”

Me: “Was anyone in the building that day?”

Vice Principal: “No.”

Me: “Then who was I going to call?”

Vice Principal: “No matter; the detention still stands.”

Me: “My son has asthma. If he missed a day because he was sick, would he have detention if I couldn’t call in advance?”

Vice Principal: “No. That’s excused.”

Me: “Well, if that happens again in Denver, he will be sick that day.”

I hate to lie, but both my son and I knew this was not fair to him.

In my junior year, I was PE assistant three days one week, two days the next week, and so on for the semester. On the off days, I was in study hall (school library). I played varsity basketball. So, for the off days, being bored out of my skull in study hall, I asked the teacher for a hall pass to go work out in the weight room. He made the pass out in pencil. WOW! 

For the next month, I would take the pass and change the date and time and, sometimes, I’d leave the building for an hour and go riding around. Often I did this during study hall; I would ask the teacher if I could go work out and then take off.

Finally, the end came. After I asked the teacher for permission to go to the weight room and was given the okay, I was walking toward the door of the room when this came from the teacher’s mouth.

Teacher: “Mr. [My Name], don’t you need a new hall pass? Surely you have rubbed a hole in the one you have.”

All that time, I thought I’d been getting away with this ruse, not realizing that he knew what I was doing all along.

End result: that was so embarrassing back in that day to be called out on what I had been doing, in front of the other kids, that I sat back down and never left for the rest of the semester.

I have autism, but I don’t have any strong symptoms. On paper, it says I’m a genius. In public, I’m a bumbling moron.

In high school, I had an IEP (Individualized Education Program). IEPs are plans for accommodations that kids with disabilities get in schools. I would get extra test-taking time and the ability to type out my essays.

The downside was that sometimes student teachers would be put into my classes. Because I had an IEP, I was usually grouped with kids that had more expansive IEPs. These other students really needed help.

New Teacher: *In a very “soothing” whisper* “Okay, [My Name], the teacher has said we are going to copy the board into our books. I’m glad you have gotten your notebook out, but you need to get out your pencil. You can hold the pencil like this.”

She then took my hand and folded my fingers around the pencil — very dramatically.

I stared at her.

Me: “You do know I’m on the Robotics Team? Right? I don’t need your help with holding pencils, thanks.”

New Teacher: “You can speak?! But you’re supposed to be r******d!”

My regular teacher intervened at that point.

Teacher: “[New Teacher], why don’t you go back to the teacher’s lounge and wait for the vice principal there?”

The new teacher got fired for her comments and lost her license.

In my senior year of high school, a classmate and I started driving to school together to save gas. The two days she drove, we were late, which resulted in two detentions for tardiness.

On the third day, [Classmate] was telling me a story, and I got the feeling we were going more slowly than usual. I looked over at the speedometer.

Me: “Everything okay?”

Classmate: “Yeah. Why?”

Me: “You’re going forty miles per hour.”

Classmate: “I’m talking. I don’t want to speed.”

Me: “We’re going to be late again. Would you like me to drive so you can talk?”

Classmate: “No! This is my car!”

Me: “Okay, but doing forty in a fifty-five is pretty slow. What if someone was driving behind us?”

Classmate: “If you don’t like it, you can drive yourself from now on.”

Me: “Sounds good to me.”

She slowed down some more, now doing thirty-five in a fifty-five zone. Thankfully, there were no other cars on the road at the time, but I was incredibly annoyed by the time we got to school. We got to class later than ever, got written up, and had detention again.

I got a ride home with someone else after detention that day and started driving myself the next morning.