Going home

Last night, I had the pleasure of attending my high school's first annual Alumni Career Fair as a presenter. It was an amazing night.

I graduated from Whittier High School in the old Quaker town of Whittier, CA, in 1988. My graduating class had an eventful senior year; going from the high of a Papal visit to Los Angeles to the Whittier Narrows earthquake that destroyed my family's house. The earthquake severely damaged my school. But, like the city itself, both the school and my old house look better than ever.

It was a rather emotional homecoming for me. At school, I excelled academically. But, problems with speech and social situations made the experience very tough to go through. To say that I bumbled and stumbled my way to graduation would be an understatement. The issues persisted in college - but there I had the ability to limit my time on campus and not attend full time. I started and stopped, finally finishing my Bachelor's Degree seven schools and almost 20 years after leaving Whittier. I would find out in my early 30's why this was so.

The Alumni Career Fair was organized by the staff at WHS to bring in alumni who had diverse backgrounds and diverse lives after high school. The message, there's an amazing future waiting for you outside of the walls of the school, was apparent. And it is true, for these kids, the sky's the limit. The kids I met last night were truly incredible.

Rather than focus on where I am now - career, college graduate, etc. - I decided to focus on the journey and what I'm doing to help things go right for the next generation.

What I didn't know at their age, because there wasn't a diagnosis yet, was that I am autistic. The separate diagnoses of Aspergers Disorder, Sensory Processing Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder that I would receive in my 30's helped to frame and explain the seeming disaster that was my school life. Now, those separate diagnoses have been placed within the autism spectrum in DSM V.

Having the benefit of being almost 30 years removed from high school, I explained how those brain wiring differences affect the classroom and school experience. If 1 in 50 kids are autistic, chances were that at least one of the kids in the room would be autistic or know someone who is. My hope in sharing my experience of a non-traditional path through college and career, but ending up where I am today, was that at least one kid in the room would hear that it's OK to be different and to chart a slightly different path to success.

I shared that as I learned about my skills and deficits and grew into my unique brain wiring, I learned how to leverage my personal quantum computer to accomplish some pretty cool things. I shared the story of the creation of my book (stressing the importance of a good foundational liberal arts education), Forensic Photoshop, and how the more I learned about my brain and perception system, the more I couldn't trust a sensory-based work flow. This lead me to a new tool set, a new way of thinking about the work that I do, and finally a new career with an industry leading software company.

Everyone has challenges. The people around us are not always aware of what we're going through. Not every disability or different ability is visible. If one has communication or anxiety issues, it can make increasing awareness or getting help even more difficult. In sharing my story, it was my hope that the kids would see that it's possible to have setbacks, challenges, and problems but get through them and accomplish some pretty cool things.

Finally, I shared how my sensory system processes the classroom environment. The cramped desks, the noisy AC unit, the buzzing lights, the shuffling of the students, the wind at the window, the noisy hall, etc. Kids usually get one shot at high-stakes tests. With this assault, try to sit still and concentrate.

This lead to the discussion of my PhD work. I'm about to enter the data collection / analysis stage. After 6 years of work, I'm almost done with my study. I'm looking at the business problem of attrition from an environmental point of view. If 1 in 50 kids are autistic, and if parents generally have a college education as the goal for their kids, then tens of thousands of autistic kids will arrive at colleges each year. They actually do. Then, a significant number of them drop out and never come back. I'm looking at the environment that is so overwhelming and uncomfortable that they voluntarily withdraw from school.

Whilst most would look to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs and say that it doesn't make sense that kids would withdraw. What's threatening their safety such that they'd choose to sacrifice their future? But that question is the key to unraveling the mystery. Is there something - a need, or rather a choice made that is more important to the student? Based on my own journey through college, and the research thus far, I think I know what it is. Now I'm collecting the data to test my theory. You're welcome to join me in this effort, if you'd like. [ed. note and update - I'm now done! Read the abstract here.]

I turn down way more speaking engagements than I accept, but this invitation was special. It was my old school. They needed to bring a hopeful message to the kids. It was an invitation to a homecoming. I was happy to accept, and I'm glad I did. There are not enough actually autistic voices speaking a message of hope and success. Whilst many speak of autism as something to be cured or eliminated, I am who I am not in spite of my autistic brain but because of it. People need to see autism not as a ticket to a dead end life but as one of endless possibilities. With a few modifications to the environment, autistic people can and do have amazing lives. I should know. I'm one of them.

Many thanks to my alma mater and the staff who put on last night's event. It was great to come home.