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.

Double Whammy! Managing Disappointment and Asperger’s

This is a very first-person account of how I experience disappointment. I think it is related to Asperger’s Syndrome, but I could use some feedback to understand it more.

When I was a child, probably about ten, I was excited to see the late Doc Severinsen (the band-leading trumpet player from Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show (kids, before Conan hosted the Tonight Show, it was hosted by Jay Leno, who took over from Johnny Carson))

My father is a trumpet player, I played that instrument a bit before landing firmly on the trombone and baritone horn. As a consequence of our family’s attention to brass music (we had a quintet with Dad and four children on two trumpets, baritone, French Horn and tuba) I was especially interested in hearing Doc play. I looked forward to that concert for what seemed like months (probably weeks actually.)

We planned a trip to Anchorage, we travelled across Cook Inlet on a ferry, drove five hours through an Alaskan winter to the only big city around—then disaster! Doc Severinsen got sick. The concert was cancelled. My stomach tightens just now as I write about it. I was as close to devastated as a ten-year old knows. I was sick, angry, and desperate to change reality. I was equally overwhelmed at my absolute impotence to change anything. I couldn’t call Doc and plead with him. I couldn’t persuade my Dad to intervene. I simply had to absorb the loss. I went through stages that I now recognize as grieving having experienced the full force of that emotion with the deaths of my brother and sister.

I don’t handle disappointment well. If I am expecting X and I get not-X or Y, I can descend into a funk pretty quickly. When I do, I don’t want to be around myself and I doubt anyone sane wants to be around me much either.

I’m thinking about this because tonight I had to skip an event when scheduling conflicts made it impossible to attend. It wasn’t a major event, and my bad mood was way out of proportion to the minor change in plans. But this is who I am and how I experience disappointment. I really dislike it, and I react accordingly. I know enough not to attack the persons who may have caused the disappointment, but I still don’t know what to do with the stew of frustration.

If you love someone with AS, you may have seen this behavior without knowing what it is. In a way, I am like a very young child who doesn’t get his way and throws a tantrum. The difference is that I know my reaction is disproportionate. I just don’t know how to deal with it. That’s part of why I’m writing—because thinking and analyzing is my default way to deal with emotional turmoil.

Just as we with AS strongly prefer routine and predictability, we also have deep passions held with irrational fervor. I think my problem with handling disappointment is related to both: I am both overly living in anticipation of the future event, and I am overly infatuated with the specific timing and organization of the event as I anticipate it. When the event is cancelled, changed, etc. I react to both the loss of the event and the disruption to my anticipated schedule. That’s a double whammy.

At least that’s how I feel. So the next time you or someone you love with AS seems unusually out of sorts, track back and see if there was some minor disappointment or change of plans that is souring the rest of the day/week. It may not cure the problem, but understanding the source can help manage the symptoms.

I know other people feel intense disappointments for other reasons, but in my case it feels very wrapped up with my Aspergian character. Do any of you feel the same?

David Can't Come Over Anymore: Rationalizing Rejection

“David can’t come over anymore.”

Those five words ended our family’s friendship with a couple and their children.

Our son David was approaching adolescence, and his good friend A_____ was still years younger.

A___’s mom had been our Maid of Honor, our daughters were good friends, and our two sets of sons were frequent playmates and got along well. Our families were close—in our case, they were our closest friends.

Then the bombshell.

A___’s parents were concerned that David’s Asperger’s behavior might influence their son. They proposed a solution. Our families could continue to be friends. We could continue to alternate sleepovers and share holiday meals. We could trade hand-me-downs and toys as before.

Except David.

If David came for Thanksgiving—say, he must remain with the adults instead of going off and playing with the kids. If we wanted him to play freely, we had to promise direct and constant supervision. Sleepovers were out of the question and unsupervised time with any of their children was verboten.

We pushed back. What had happened? The worst example they could give was that David led their son in a game of loading toys on their treadmill and then turning it on to see the toys fly off the back. Their son wasn’t allowed to play on the treadmill, so our son’s corrupting influence was clear.

David begged for a second chance. Faced with his grief, we tried to talk to the parents, but they would not budge. He wrote them a long and personal letter about how he felt and what they had decided. He was not rude, but he was blunt. They replied with a thank-you note and gave him a gift card.

The parents later told us that they never read David’s note, believing it was disrespectful for a child to address adults so directly. They earnestly claimed that the issue had nothing to do with Asperger's, but was only because of the age difference. Of course that standard didn't apply to siblings or other family friends. Just our socially different son.

David has never forgotten, and observing his heart from outside, I suspect he has never fully recovered. Our good friends rejected our son. They were genuinely surprised that we wouldn’t relegate him to second-class status. They were surprised that we valued our son’s dignity above our family friendship. They thought we would endorse their rationalization.

I am sad that they didn’t have room in their hearts for our whole family. I am sad that my wife is estranged from her college roommate, maid of honor, and one-time best friend. I am sad that our daughters lost years of friendship. But mostly I am sad that David lives with a message that he is unwanted.

No rationalization can make up for that.

Physical Frustrations #2: Protecting those Affected

Many of us on the spectrum struggle with physical environments and tasks. Here are two strategies to help students in classroom and other school settings.

1.                    Help me control environmental stimuli. Light, sound, odors, and textures are not simply preferences as they may be with some others. These environmental factors can be incapacitating. For example, whenever I enter a classroom or meeting space, I always find the direction of the most sunlight and then sit with my back to it. When teachers assign seating, they sometimes forget to consider that sitting by the clock or next to the hallway can be very distracting for me. I can adjust, by shutting down, but this affects my performance in class. The stimuli in even a normal classroom can be too much for me. I need a way to block out at least some of those distracters. Special seating, a “calming spot” or the option to leave can all give me the security I need to cope. Even when I don’t exercise these options, knowing they are there is calming and helps me maintain composure.

2.                    Recognize my physical challenges. Distractions are minor compared to the potential catastrophe of physical performance. In classes where physical competence is expected, I can fail with spectacular and miserable results. P.E. Classes are a major culprit, as motor clumsiness and social awkwardness combine to make me especially inept at team sports. Situations where I am expected to learn by trial and error are an invitation to meltdown. While others might learn from striking out or missing a shot, I spiral into a cycle of futility and frustration—sure that I cannot succeed. This is usually reinforced by the snickering assessment of my peers. Don’t join them. Warn me in advance when you plan to introduce new skills or physical tasks. Give me a chance to prepare for the science labs or art projects that require fine motor control. Plan  roles for me in PE that protect me from being the odd one out. Please.

I wouldn't trade you for your twin...a free-form letter from this Asperger's Dad to my Asperger's son

David,

I wouldn’t trade you for your twin.

 

The day you were born, your average twin disappeared

I spent nine months and more planning for your twin

He was the child with a bright mind and ordinary senses

Certainly he would be above average, but not too far

He was predictable and normal in every way

•Reading at a normal pace, 

(not instantly like you)

•He would drift from enthusiasm to interest

(without your intense commitment)

•He would see some possibilities and creativities

(but not all of them)

 

When I planned for your twin, I failed to plan for you.

 

I didn’t expect your amazing powers of perception.

Your ability to find mistakes in every textbook

Your ability to hear a ticking clock from across the room

Your ability to detect minute differences in fabrics

Your care and compassion for people who don’t expect it

 

I didn’t know a person could be so creative, finding music in materials, a rainbow in paint swatches…

 

Your insight and intelligence were a complete surprise.  You think on such a different level

 

I planned for a child with normal senses—with dull hearing and a soft touch.  

I didn’t know to hope for someone with super-sensitivity and super intelligence.

 

It took me years to figure out that we had David, not your twin.  

But knowing that, I wouldn’t trade you in.

 

Dad

 

Physical Frustrations #1: My Body Betrays Me

Asperger’s syndrome is a neurological condition.  It isn’t a psychological disorder like depression or anxiety that might go away with time and therapy.  Asperger’s and other Autism Spectrum disorders are in a category the American Psychiatric Association labels Pervasive Developmental Disorders.  The name itself reveals that this syndrome is a permanent, physiological condition. We have general motor clumsiness, especially for large-muscle coordination.  This is part of why we tend to dislike and avoid sports, especially team sports which put our social and physical clumsiness on display.  

It may be hard to see, but those of us with Asperger’s have a disability.  It may be masked by superficial normalcy, or adequate intelligence, but we are disabled just the same.  Most of us with Asperger’s also have overly effective senses. In fact, Asperger’s Syndrome is often comorbid with Sensory Integration Deficiency or Sensory Defensiveness, conditions that arise from a nervous system that is too proficient. Every sense can give us trouble. For many with Asperger’s, sounds are the biggest distraction.  Ticking clocks, booming pipes, buzzing fluorescent lights and the 60-cycle hum of electrical equipment can be as intolerable for us as fingernails on an old-fashioned chalkboard may be to you.  Imagine trying to attend to a lesson, read a book or concentrate on a test while someone was dragging fingernails down a chalkboard. Would it be enough to tell yourself, “just ignore it.”  “Just ignore it.” is the universal first response when someone with Asperger’s raises a sensory complaint, but that just isn’t possible.  Part of the syndrome is an inability to selectively block out undesirable stimuli.  My personal issues tend more toward tactile sensitivity.  I cannot wear any shirt with a perceptible tag in the collar.  Clothing with “rough” or “scratchy” fabric is intolerable.  I love the feel of microfiber, flannel and silk, but don’t ever want rough nylon, wool or textured cotton against my skin.  It drives me crazy.  We Aspies know that some forms of lighting, or glare from surfaces can have the same effect.  We sometimes change our seating or request to draw blinds or shades to even out the lighting.  I don’t mind fluorescents, but I always sit with my back to windows if I can. Even on overcast days I wear sunglasses.  Smells and taste are less likely to show up as classroom distractions, but it might help to know that people with Asperger’s sometimes have a condition called Synesthesia, where sensory input is crossed up.  In that condition, intense colors can evoke smells, abrupt sounds can causes visual hallucinations etc.  If I tell you something like that is happening, please take it seriously and help me adjust. 

Social Incompetence #2: Coach Me Please!

Be my coach.  Like the coach of an athletic squad, you can help me improve my performance through careful observation, constructive criticism, guided practice and getting me in the game.  The difference is that while everyone else seems to know the basic rules of the game, I’m playing with different equipment by a different rulebook.  I need explicit direction.  I need word-for-word scripts.  I don’t know how to shake hands, carry on a conversation or read the cues that tell me it’s time to move on.  Temple Grandin, an accomplished engineer, professor and author with a Ph.D. in Animal Science from Colorado State University is one of the most celebrated individuals with Autism in this era, and she describes the social challenges this way: “Figuring out how to interact socially was much more difficult than solving an engineering problem.” (Sedran 2006)[i]

Translate intuition into cognition.  People with Asperger’s have capable intellects, and can process a great deal of information quickly if we know what to look for.  If you can help us by reflecting on your intuitive perceptions and decisions, we can learn how to observe what you perceive.  This distinction is critical.  For example, I studied communications in college and was liberated by the concept of non-verbal communication.  The coursework gave me a long list of postures, behaviors, expressions and intonations that meant something.  Rather than the inscrutable “sense” that others relied on, I could count the number of folded arms, check the amount of facial responses, review the general level of energy in the room and adjust my speaking or teaching accordingly.  As a teacher, I need you to watch me flounder a bit in a conversation, then intervene with quick feedback to dissect my struggle.  I have learned that comments and postures that scream to my wife or colleagues are lost on me.  However, once I learn the cue or clue, I can usually remember to watch for it in the future.  Your coaching can help me grow from oblivious to observant.

Set me up for success.  When forming groups, initially put me with students who are more patient and tolerant.  Be cautious about letting students select their own groups. You might even consider coaching the rest of the class on how to give me explicit feedback to help me stay in bounds.  Since peer approval is important to me, give me opportunities to be socially successful by telling me explicitly how to initiate, continue or terminate interactions.  Redirect me when I don’t get it right, and reinforce me when I do.

 

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[i] http://www.leadershipmedica.com/scientifico/sciefebbr03/scientificaing/2sedrane/2sedraning.htm

A 6th Grader with AS Advocates for Himself

When my son David changed schools and enrolled in sixth grade, he wanted to explain to his classmates what Asperger's Syndrome is and how they could best relate to him. For many in the room, (including his teacher) this was the first time they had heard of the syndrome.

That day was a big day for David. Just now I asked him if he still had those notecards. He knew instantly where they were—five years later—and brought them to me immediately.

David sat on a stool in front of the class and read from these six notecards. The words are his and the idea to explain himself to his class was his as well. Two of his classmates from sixth grade remain very close friends five years later.  I wish I had video, but picture a 12-year-old boy, new to the school, sitting on a stool in the front of modular classroom. This is what he shared:

There is no silver bullet for explaining Asperger's, but giving this short presentation to his classmates gave David a voice. More importantly, it gave his teacher and classmates permission and guidelines to help him be his best self.

Recommended Blogs #1

Social Incompetence #1 Persistence & Pain

Unlike people with classical autism, I am not satisfied to live in my own, isolated world.  I want to be part of your world, especially the social universe.  Unfortunately, I am an alien.  I don’t have the communications sophistication, emotional control or general intuition your society requires.  I am a social incompetent–eager but awkward.  Consider the book titles authored by people with Asperger’s:  Freaks, Geeks and Asperger’s Syndrome by Luke Jackson; Pretending to be Normal by Liane Holliday Willey; Asperger’s Huh? by Rosina Schnurr.  These titles reveal the distance we feel from normal society.  They are matched by websites like WrongPlanet.net and Aspergia.com, a decidedly defensive Aspergian community.  

We with Asperger's are intelligent enough to perceive our difference–acutely.  Our sense of abnormality is a persistent gloom, and many of us fight daily to pierce it.  I distinctly remember at age five learning that my normal conversational impulses were unacceptable, and had to be replaced by socially proscribed scripts.  For you normal folk, the ones we Aspies label “NeuroTypicals (NT’s), that might be part a normal process of acculturation and maturation.  For us, it is a gap that widens through childhood and explodes in adolescence.  I need your help to bridge the gap.  I need friends, and more importantly, I need explicit coaching on how to be a proper friend.