10 Asperger’s Resolutions for 2010: Part 1

10: I resolve not to freak out over the probable elimination of the term “Asperger’s Syndrome” from the DSM V. I am not Asperger’s and Asperger’s is not me. I can still be who I am with some other label.

9: I resolve to practice a new social courtesy every day for the month of January. I will greet, make eye contact, thank, indulge, ask after, tolerate, those I live and work with.

8: I resolve not to excuse my crusty behavior as an expression of AS. I control what I do, even if I can’t always control who I am.

7: I resolve to enjoy my trains. Training with my son is a pleasurable and appropriate distraction. I won’t regret the time we spend together.

6: I resolve not to resent people who are acting in their own interests. I act in my own interests all the time, so fair’s fair. If it is in someone’s interests to disagree with me, refuse me permission, correct me, etc. it isn’t necessarily personal. I resolve to get and maintain a grip.

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More insights from the Asperger's Expert are on the main page.

Not As Cold As You Think

People who have Asperger’s are often very pragmatic about social relations.

For example, I am instinctively less social than I “should” be to workers and people I meet on a temporary basis. My wife is very good about saying hello, and wishing a good day to workers in tollways and paid parking lots. I have learned from her that it is polite and well-received to add a simple “I hope your day is going well.” (I learn a lot from my wife.)

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As a pragmatist, it makes no logical sense to be solicitous toward people with whom you will have no further contact. Unless you believe in Karma or the three-fold rule, you won’t get any benefit out of the exchange.

In a world where people are reflexively polite and responsive, a person who does not engage in small talk or social niceties seems cold and unfeeling. It may be that that person is simply efficient. If you are or love someone with Asperger’s, perhaps it is worth thinking through this simple truth:

Every opportunity to be polite/social is an opportunity to practice the social skills that may someday be critical to success. The payoff may not be obvious or immediate, but it is worth it to take advantage of every learning opportunity.

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More insights from the Asperger's Expert are on the main page.

Ghandi on a Fishing Boat

Back in high school and college, a series of teachers “introduced” me to Maslow’s hierarchy of psychological needs. The model was very popular in the 80’s, for good reason. The basic logic makes sense, since it is hard to pay attention to membership and belonging needs if you are hungry, homeless, and under assault. (Sorry for the gross oversimplification Abraham.)

However, I always wanted to argue about the claim that the highest level, self-actualization, was so rare and difficult to accomplish that only a few people in history had ever attained it. Commonly, teachers and texts would suggest that only Jesus, Ghandi, and Martin Luther King Jr. were self-actualized individuals.
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I disagree. I think self-actualization is a state, not a level. I slip in and out of Maslow’s levels depending on the context. During a board meeting, if I get hungry I stop caring about whether the board likes me, and I wonder if I can snag some of their spare Chik-fil-a sandwiches. When I am full, rested, and secure, I often skip past the social levels of Abe’s pyramid and jump right to actualizing myself. It’s definitely a human thing and his may be an Asperger’s thing, but I’m not sure.

Here’s an example of a self-actualized epiphany (SEA). When I was 20, my brother died at sea and I inherited his set-net commercial fishing license, boat and gear. (Set-netting is a small-scale fishing method using open skiffs and small crews) That summer, I was a rookie captain with Meric Overman as my main crew and partner. During an opening in July, we decided to take a risk and set our nets at a distant location called Riley’s Wreck (Note to prospective captains—avoid being in places named for past shipwrecks.) Riley’s Wreck is along an exposed section of coastline that faces out across the Bering Strait to Siberia. To get there, Meric and I left Kotzebue and drove south around Cape Blossom.

From the time we passed the airport beacon, Meric and I were on our own with nothing to block the swells rolling across from a Siberian storm. It was intense, cold, and scary. As captain, I had the wheel of a 22-foot open skiff, driving twin outboards into the storm. I had reason to be scared. For one, my mom had lost her only other son just 5 months before—in a storm—at sea. Death and drowning was not abstract to me, and I was churning with my own grief and fear. For another, the waves were big, intense, and growing. But the best fishing was through the storm, around the cape, and down the coast. Mostly though, I was afraid because I was inexperienced, undersized, and completely in control. The waves were nasty, the wind was ripping, the summer sky was starting to dim as it does in late July in the arctic. Our little boat was outmatched, and our little crew was insignificant. And then it happened. Ghandi arrived.

Somewhere just North of Cape Blossom, we synced up with the storm. I started powering down the waves and easing off on the crest. We stopped jumping and pounding and started gliding. Working the throttle and the relaxing on the wheel, we started surfing the swells instead of powering through them. Meric felt it too. He stood with me and we knew without speaking that we could make it through. The next 30 minutes were the most pure expression of capability that I have ever felt. In the midst of real danger and adversity, we were up to the challenge. It was something like the “flow” that Csikszentmihalyi has described throughout his career.

We made it through and set our nets for a modest payday. I remember building a fire on the beach to dry out our gear, then spending a cold night in the storm until fishing the next day. I don’t know how many salmon we caught, or how much we made. What I do treasure is the memory that on that night, in that storm, I had what it takes. That is a touchstone that matters in a world that burdens Aspies with a sense of their abnormality and insufficiency.

I am posting this here at AspergersExpert because I appeal to all of us who are or love an Aspie to adopt a new concept of self-actualization. The tendency of spectrum dwellers to immerse in a challenge and focus intensely on an experience is not anti-social—as we are often told. Instead, it is an experience of self-actualization that is memorable and motivating. Once there, we want to go back. If you get there once, figure out the conditions and go back often. Find what you love and do a lot more of it.

For me, fishing commercially was a season of life that has ended. I haven’t set a net in 20 years. That doesn’t matter now. What matters is the memory and the recognition that I can go back to that metaphorical place when I need to.
A few years ago, I read a book by John Eldredge (Wild at Heart) that contained a quote by Howard Thurman.

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

If you have Asperger’s, don’t ask what makes you more like the world—more “normal.” Ask what takes you to your place of greatest self-actualization. Once you have that answer, do a lot more of that—because our world needs you.

Our. World. Needs. You.


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More insights on the main page.

The Asperger's Express: Why Aspies Love Model Trains

I’ve noticed that one of the most common search strings that leads to this blog is Asperger’s and model trains. Since I’ve learned a little bit about this topic, I thought I’d share my observations about the connection.

In the Asperger’s universe, model trains have advantages over life. As I have written elsewhere, the proportion of people with Aspergers in the general population is eclipsed by the number of my fellow aspies to be found in a model train store on a Sunday afternoon. Why is that?

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Model trains are much more than little machines. They are the centerpiece of a microworld where the engineer engineers the entire creation. In a lot of ways, the owner of a model train layout is a lot like the protagonist in a 1941 science fiction story by Theodore Sturgeon called Microcosmic God about an iconoclast who creates and controls a new species. If you love someone or are someone with Asperger’s, I highly recommend you read the text or a scanned version. Sturgeon didn’t know about Asperger’s because the label didn’t exist in 1941—but he knew enough about they syndrome to paint an accurate picture.

The world of a train modeler (often called a layout) has many advantages over the real world.

Real life is unpredictable, but a layout is highly predictable. If you want them too, the trains can literally run on time. The weather never interferes; and virtually all problems can be solved. The train set is mercilessly, relentlessly rational.

Real life is filled with humans, human emotions, human idioms, human impulses and human ambiguity. The train layout is also filled with humans, but they are plastic and permanent. If a scale-size worker is standing next to a depot, he’ll be standing there again tomorrow—he’s glued to the layout! This kind of routine predictability is comforting and calming to a person for whom the word is constantly disquieting and stressful.

Where human interactions are complex and inscrutable, trains and train operations are complex and completely knowable. Those who model trains can specialize in locomotives (which they like to call “motive power”). They can be expert landscapers, historians, or archeologists. At their most creative, train modelers are artists in four dimensions. They bring the entire physical world to life by operating the train on a scale approximation of an actual train line operation.

For an adult with Asperger’s, playing with trains is not play. Trains satisfy the need to think deeply and drill down to minute details, but model trains are mostly free from the challenges of anticipating and adapting to the social environment. To see a room full of train enthusiasts is to see an environment where a person with Asperger’s can shine. The emphasis on technical knowledge paired with genuine enthusiasm for arcane details is genuinely exciting. The de-emphasis on social sophistication and divergent conversation creates a safer place.

I’m sure there are many people with Asperger’s who don’t care for model trains. I’m certain many model train enthusiasts have no trace of Asperger’s. But where the two domains overlap, you will find a world where people with AS can relax into themselves and experience joy without anxiety. For someone with Asperger’s, that can be a gratifying way to spend time.

The Aspies you love might not be into trains, but I'll bet they're into something. Maybe they need to spend time in another world because the normal world wears them out.

Escaping the Monversation: Three ways to Redirect Obsessive Aspie Discourse

Have you ever found yourself halfway attending to a conversation with your Aspie child/spouse/friend when suddenly you realized that your “uh-huh’s” and distracted nods have committed you to a one-sided stream of consciousness monversation (my term for a monopolized, monotopic, monologue) about trains/pokemon/zoology/dinosaurs/natural disasters or some other fascination of the moment? What can you do?
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First, it helps to understand a bit about our psychology. While we don’t discount the importance and pleasure of social dialogue; we with AS tend to find great satisfaction/pleasure/comfort in the recitation/repetition of stylized facts and information. They are a safe conversational “place” for us, free from the vagaries and unpredictability of typical human conversation. We don’t intend to be disrespectful, but we do—at least subconsciously—act to protect/preserve our own interests. Therefore, transitioning us out of our singular topic is slightly risky and is best attempted with explicit clarity.
Here are three ways to escape the monservation:

1. PREMPT the monversation by helping your aspie child/student analyze a typical conversation. Analyze means to “break down into its constituent parts” so, this exercise is designed to calibrate your Aspie’s sense of what normal conversational interchange look like. As with many cognitive approaches to Asperger’s symptoms, the point of this exercise is to make explicit the intuitive or implicit social rules that most humans learn without direct instruction. How is works: choose a sample of conversation with two partners (work up to three or four as the person with AS can handle it.)
Have the child track the conversation for turn-taking, making a tally mark each time the conversation switches speakers.
Have the child track “echoing” which is a technique we use to synchronize our response with the speaker. This involved repeating or rephrasing a concept or term offered by the other conversant in such a way to amplify, extend, or affirm the original speaker’s idea.
Have the child track non-verbal agreement and attention indicators such as eye contact, “uh-hum’s” postural changes, nods.
Have the child diagram the “conversation train” showing how topics shift over time and trying to see when the conversation jumps the track. For many of us with AS, it is hard to understand how a conversation about the weather can end up in a political debate. (Strangely though, we can turn almost any topic onto our obsessive cul-de-sac.)
If possible, videotape a conversation with your child/student and have them analyze then compare. As much as possible, have the child treat the typical conversation as a template.

2. DISRUPT the monversation by using specific coded cues that only you and the child understand. I like to use proper nouns, such as the speaker’s name. If the child is conversing appropriately, then I use pronouns such as you, he, or we. For example, I might point agree with a statement saying, “We had a similar experience.” But if the child with AS is monopolizing the conversation I might say, “David, do you know if Mr. Jacobsen has ________________________?” This disrupts (hopefully) the monversation by reintroducing the other partner, and by inviting the other conversant to lead for a bit. You could also use colors, numbers, etc. depending on the standard obsession. I like to use the names of people as a way to get my child’s attention and redirect it back to the other person.

3. CONCLUDE the monversation explicitly by setting an end point. I like to choose a set number of facts or stories, such as: “David, you may tell me two more facts about Pokémon and then we are going to have a two-way conversation about some other topics.” Alternatively, for an adult with whom the previous approach would seem condescending, I would be more peer-oriented and say, “John, your interest in hurricanes is more extensive than mine. I would like to change the subject and talk about several other topics as well. While this might seem intrusive and impolite to most people, we Aspies tend to prefer direct conversational direction versus hints and indirect overtures. Key phrases like “change the subject” or “talk about something else” are hard to miss. Even someone with AS will learn your conversational preferences. Asking guided questions is rarely effective at dislodging an Aspie from their preferred conversational track—it is simply too subtle. Making a request or even a polite direction is much more likely to work.

Happy redirecting!


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Asserting for an Excellent IEP: Seven Non-Threatening Questions

Parents, as you prepare to go back to school, you may participate in IEP or other meetings to build support for your child in the new school year. Since IEP and other meetings can degrade into adversarial contests, here are some questions you can ask to assertively clarify your expectations right from the start.

1. What has worked well for other students with Asperger’s at this school?

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2. What strategies can we put in place to help teachers and my child de-escalate conflict?

3. What kinds of self-calming behaviors or objects will you support?

4. My child needs a “safe person” to go to in times of stress. Who can fill that role?

5. My child is especially interested in ________________. How can you leverage that interest for academic success?

6. What plans do you have to protect my child from social trauma during unstructured time such as bus rides, lunch time and recess?

7. What information or access can I provide to help you support my child?

Seven Taboo Words for Spectrum Citizens

There are seven words that I see and hear used about people on the spectrum.
Each of them has enough truth to be tempting, and enough pain to be traumatic.
The first word is "ODD".

"Odd" has all sorts of connotations and overlays that separate Aspies from the rest of the population. It implies a standard of normal, and sets the spectrum-dweller apart from that standard.

The next word is one some Aspies use to describe themselves—they shouldn't...
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"FREAK" shows up in the title of at least one Asperger's book. This is one of the strongest pejoratives used about people with Asperger's.

Confessions of an Inconsistent Aspie

I have a quick thought about why people have trouble not misunderstanding Aspies. (I know there’s an implied double negative there, but bear with me.)

Two of the characteristics that lubricate social interaction are predictability and reproducibility. We create an interpersonal dance of action and response based on how we behaved last time and the time before. Like literal dancers, some of us are better at anticipating and improvising with our partner. Some of us are not.

I worked for a principal who was egotistical, imperious, image-conscious, and a workhorse. Most of us who worked for him found him cool and impersonal, but consistent. If you worked for this man, you always knew exactly where you stood, what he thought of you, and what your boundaries were. He wasn't particularly likable, but he was easy to work with.

I also worked for a superintendent, who was most effective at building emotional connections among the egos and quirks of district leaders. She could curse like a sailor to get a construction foreman moving, but she could also get on the floor with a nervous first-grader, dropping her voice and shrinking her body to facilitate interaction. She wasn’t inconsistent—she was consistently adaptive to the people around her.

This brings me to myself and other Aspies. We seem capable of high levels of observation, sensitivity, and cognitive awareness—but not always. We see details in the environment or in our friends that other miss, so we can be excellent observers. But we don’t always act on those observations with sensitivity or compassion. We feel, but we don’t always seem to feel for (compassion) or feel with (empathy).

In my limited experience, I am at my best when I observe correctly, adjust my affective stance accordingly, and provide an appropriate response to the other person(s). The problem is that this takes a lot of energy and focus, and sets an expectation that the next time I might get it right again. If I do, kudos! If not—condemnation.

This isn't an apologetic for people with Asperger’s Syndrome. I am one, and people like me drive me a little batty.

A lot batty.

So if you are or love someone on the spectrum, please don’t misinterpret our inconsistency. We might not even see the pattern that offends or disappoint you. I know this is crazy-making, but it’s true. We are sometimes as mystified by our interpersonal successes as we are frustrated by our interpersonal failures. We don’t learn from our mistakes as well, because we don’t always understand them. The energy it takes to autopsy a social failure isn't always worth the effort.

Thank you for gently and graciously pointing out the deficient patterns in our interactions. We can learn. When you help us scaffold our emotional behaviors with cognitive awareness, we can do better than just avoid mistakes. That’s a negative worth undoubling.

More insights from the Asperger's Expert are on the main page.

Coaching Cognitive Empathy: How To End A Conversation.

As a spectrum citizen, I have spent my life in a state of perpetual uncertainty about how to read other people. This series will explain some techniques that I use and have coached others to use. In most cases, the techniques replace intuition (a non-cognitive behavior) with observation (a cognitive behavior).

Credit to my mom and a friend of hers for turning me on to the term “cognitive empathy.” Daniel Goleman (Emotional Intelligence) has a nice article on three types of empathy—cognitive, emotional, compassionate—over at his website.

When and how to end a conversation

The Problem

As a high school principal, I experience a constant stream of “gotta minute?” conversations. I appreciate these because they keep me connected with people and issues, but some of these conversations are inefficient or intrusive. I’m especially bad at ending these conversations. Partly because I’m in a position of authority, my colleagues often feel like they need to stay in the conversation until I end it and sort of “dismiss” them. The military protocol makes this very easy, but that doesn’t work so well at a school. As a consequence, I sometimes think the conversation is over and turn to my desk to start a new task, while my poor colleague is left in limbo wondering when we finished. So, at the start of the year I tell my staff, “I’m very bad at ending conversations, so don’t be offended if I seem to leave something hanging or don’t know how to stop. I won’t be offended if you need to end abruptly and get to class, etc…” Usually I am not very good at asserting my need to end a conversation or recognizing my partner’s need to leave and go to the next item on their to-do list. This happens all the time in settings other than at work, so maybe you can adapt these techniques for your needs.

What I am learning to do:

During a conversation, I observe closely for a state change. This could be my partner packing up his materials, closing up his binder, putting away his pens, etc. The state change could be more overt, such as standing up from a chair or edging towards the door. Usually, the indicators are subtle, such as eyes flickering towards the clock or watch, a partner checking their cell phone (when no call has arrived), or a change in overall body posture from relaxed and informal to slightly tensed in anticipating of leaving. I can observe these signals when I remember.

(As a rule, I can avoid some of these tensions if I explicitly negotiate an end time for the conversation in advance, but most of my meetings are not that formal.)

If you are learning, or are coaching a child to recognize these patters, try watching an interactive movie (the Austen movies, & many Tom Hanks films work) or just about any group setting such as a party, a church social, lunchtime at school. While watching, see if you can observe indicators that the conversation is about to end. If a movie conversation seems to end unexpectedly, rewind to see if there were cues. Make this a game, like accurately predicting when the traffic signal will change. By explicitly watching for these cues, even those of us with citizenship on the spectrum can learn to observe what others intuit.

When I see a trigger:

The first strategy is to check my understanding. If I see my partner packing up or checking her watch, then I ask, “Do we need to finish our conversation?” Usually, they are relieved that I have broached the subject and they agree to conclude—sometimes rushing out the door. If I misread the signal, then I known, and I can stop stressing about orchestrating an immediate conclusion.

If I read them rightly:

The actual conclusion remains the most difficult thing for me. I am adding a script to the ends of my mini-meetings. I try to pair this script with stage directions such as, [Peter rises from his chair and steps towards the door]

1. “Is there anything else that I need to do or tell you?”

2. “Thank you for dropping in. I appreciate what you shared/your concern/this plan/our talk/working with you. (This should be genuine gratitude.)

3. Some type of totally appropriate “connection.” This could be a very appropriate light touch on the shoulder, an appropriate handshake (I’m learning that one) strong eye contact with a nod, or whatever is right for the norms of the setting. If you don’t know the norms or are working with someone who is learning those norms, ask someone who seems “easy” with interactions. There are always people like that who will let you observe them or ask questions.

4. A clear “goodbye.” Nobody misunderstands goodbye.

As an aside, when I used to consult quite frequently in Latin America, it took me quite awhile to get comfortable with the practice of brushing cheeks/air kissing as a gesture of friendship. Once I got past the unfamiliarity of the gesture though, it became a nice little social puzzle to anticipate and participate correctly.

You’ll notice that this post is not about how not to monopolize a conversation with my special interests. That’s another topic, and well covered by others elsewhere. This is about the specific need to end a conversation efficiently and appropriately.

What if you are ready to end and your partner is not?

I’m already laughing at this, because it is what we aspies do to NT’s all the time, yet it can happen to us. Just for fun, wander into a model train store some Sunday afternoon. Don’t initiate conversation, but see how long it takes someone to approach you and start telling you details about the model/landscape/electronics nearest to you. There is no proof that all model train enthusiasts have Asperger’s but I’m just sayin’.

So, if you are in a conversation and don’t want to be trapped, here’s what to do.

Least instrusive: Wait for a pause or breath and transition to the conclusion thusly:

I’d like to know/talk/think more, but right now I’m going to shift to another meeting/task/location/activity. (I avoid the phrase “I need to shift” because it seems to pass responsibility to the next task or person. I use “I’m going to…” because it projects appropriate, assertive determination.”

More intrusive: Interrupt the other person while they are talking with, “Excuse me, I’d like to let you finish that thought and then I’m going to shift to another…”

Most intrusive: Stand up while your partner is talking and begin the interruption at the same time.

If your partner complains, “But I’m not finished” then you need to make an appointment for more time in the future.

This is not a perfect approach, but many of us with ASD conditions have substantial powers of observation and cognition. We can use these to complement and strengthen our less-developed intuitive empathy.

Happy conversing!

Redirecting the Motivation for Undesirable Behaviors

Once upon a time I worked at a school on the campus of the Minnesota Zoo. While there I learned that a lot of the work of zookeepers involves training animals how to move on and off exhibits so the keepers can manage their routines and maintain their living spaces. They make liberal use of cues and reinforcements.

It may seem disrespectful to use animal training techniques to manage the behavior of children (not just students with AS by the way), but this tactic only makes explicit the motivations that are always present in human behavior.

One of the ways to manage undesirable behaviors is to replace intrinsic motivation with extrinsic motivation and then remove the extrinsic motivation.. Here’s why that might work.

In a number of studies with human subjects and simians, the following pattern emerges:

1. 1. The subject does a behavior voluntarily and repeatedly (playing a game, solving a puzzle, moving an item.) indicating that they prefer that behavior and are intrinsically motivated to perform it.
2. 2. The researcher reinforces the behavior with food or some other extrinsic reward. Essentially, the subject is now being “paid” for what they did before for “free.”
3. 3. The researcher withdraws the extrinsic reward.
4. 4. The frequency of the behavior drops to a level less than the original. Sometimes the behavior is extinguished.

Try this with your child. If there is a behavior that you would like to decrease, try explicitly reinforcing that behavior for a time, (I know it sounds crazy to reinforce an undesirable behavior—but finish the process) then remove the reward.

I think this works because the subject experiences unmet expectations once the reward is removed. As a result, the negative experience of frustration balances or negates the intrinsic motivation and decreases the frequency of the behavior

How Old are You in Asperger’s Years?

I have noticed that the dominant paradigm of personality development expects us to “mature” or “grow up” on a fairly specific schedule. The English language is filled with idioms and protocols like “Act your age.” or “You’re old enough to know better.” Given the strong and constant pressure to conform to age-cohort expectations, why do those of us with Asperger’s sometimes seem an odd mix of precocious knowledge and social immaturity?

The answer is relatively simple. We don’t care (at least as much as NT’s) about conforming to social expectations. If forced, we might be able to express those norms, but that doesn’t mean we’ll follow them.

My son loves Pokémon and Neopets, long after his peers have moved on. It doesn’t bother him that his friends have other interests and consider some of his passions childish. He is secure in the solitude of himself.

I remember being interested in news and politics long before my classmates cared or even knew anything about the political process. It’s no wonder I ended up as a political science major and spent a semester in Washington D.C. Maybe if I’d been more NT, I would have supressed my passion for things political and derailed one of my lifelong interests.

So while Aspie’s may develop on a different pace than the dominant culture expects, perhaps we should commend ourselves for being more loyal to ourselves than to artificially imposed social expectations.