Communication (From the SGS class Journal)
My first internship (with Entelechy1) was a flop, and there is not much to say about it. When I arrived for the interview, they were in the middle of a production, and could not spare the resources to train and supervise me. So that didn't work.
My next internship was with Willow Dene2, a primary school for children with disabilities. The first day I went there, I was instructed by Carolyn Vagg, the school's liason with EUSA, that my role was primarily to observe and learn what to do, and help out where I could. I was placed into “Rose,” a classroom with 7 autistic children. There was the teacher, plus three other classroom assistants.
The teacher was very friendly, and she explained what was going on as we went through the day, and I did my best to help where I could. I was not sure how to do a lot of the tasks, and since Carolyn had instructed me that it was better to watch and learn the first time than experiment and risk a mistake, I did not act in a variety of circumstances. Additionally, I wasn't very good at what I did do. That said, everyone was friendly after the class, and they asked me if I was going to stay, and I said yes, and I headed home (which was a two hour commute).
That's where things got messy. I was quite pleased to finally be placed, and placed in a setting where there was a lot I could learn. However, on the train ride home, Joe, my internship coordinator with EUSA, called my cellphone. He told me that he had been contacted by the Willow Dene Liason, and that she had indicated that the teacher did not want me to be back the next day.
I was completely shocked, and I thought that there must have been a mistake. First, I was primarily there as an observer that first day. Second, I had no training, and so my lack of abilities was understandable. Third, if I had messed up, then someone would have told me, so I could correct it. Fourth, nobody said anything, or gave any indication that something was the matter. Joe's wording was indefinite (“she indicated”), so perhaps there had been a misunderstanding... miscommunication somewhere along the line.
According to Joe, who had heard it from Carolyn, the teacher's reason was that I “did not seem interested enough.” I wasn't sure what they meant – as far as I could tell, I was indeed interested, and I figured that was something I would know better than most. Had my actions not been assertive enough in caring with the children? The teacher had warned me not to overstimulate them with unnecessary interaction, and Carolyn had told me that my role was primarily to observe and see whether it was right for me – I hadn't thought that I was expected to interact more than I had. But if that was the case, then why didn't anyone tell me to interact more?
Or—and as an aspie I am paranoid about this—could it be that something else was the matter, and they had felt it would be more polite not to tell it to my face. For me, only letting me know that I had messed up the internship while I was on the train back from the school seemed highly insulting. Not giving me the chance to learn from my mistakes was cruel, but that they would not tell me directly was more horrifying to my sensibilities. Had I done something tactless that the British would not tell me about? Was this a cultural non-dialogue? What was I expected to do? Would this be a problem in the future?
I had Joe talk to Carolyn about my point of view on my actions in the classroom, specifically me being unsure of what I was supposed to do. She said to Joe that she would find a placement for me, but that it would be in a different classroom, with more manageable kids. I had preferred to work with autistic kids, as I have a personal interest in the disorder, but higher-functioning children would be fine as well. I accepted, and I was to start work with the “Yellow” class the next morning at 8:30am.
I got there early, and met the teachers of Yellow class. The class was very different; the kids were all FLKs to some degree, but there was no uniformity to their afflictions – all different disabilities that I wrote down and resolved to research back at home. Relations with the teachers were all friendly, but I could not get over the haunting similarities to the day before. I hadn't noticed anything the first time – what was there to look for the second time. We finished class and I reported to Carolyn, and went home.
No phone call on the way back, this time.
That night, I was not able to work on researching the disabilities. My instructor for the EUSA class had missed the first class, so the make-up class had been rescheduled for Tuesday night. Due to the commute, I got back relatively late, and then went to the class, which lasted for three hours, and ate right into my sleeping time.
To get to class, I had to wake up at 6am. Normally, I need about 9 hours of sleep if I'm not going to be taking naps during the day. At the flat I am living at, there is constant light and sound coming in the window, regardless of the blinds. And now with the class, I couldn't get those nine hours of sleep.
I was a bit tired on Wednesday, my second day with Yellow, and I helped them throughout the day, more actively this time. People were slightly different, as the classroom assistants had been shuffled, but I got to know the new people, and it was all very friendly at the end. We shared a small tea after class was done, and I specifically asked whether they thought I was going to be staying on – I wanted to buy a zone 4 monthly transportation pass, as the commute cost me about 10 pounds each day. They said that they would be glad to have me there.
I was quite happy, and I went home without any damning phone call. The paranoia was starting to subside. I missed getting a train pass on the way back, though – skipped my mind, and I didn't go back to get one, instead napping.
The next day was a teacher training day. My class's teacher said I didn't have to go to school that Thursday, but I talked with Carolyn, and she entered me in for a six hour presentation on Sensory Intergration Dysfunction (another personal interest of mine, as I had been diagnosed with it as a child). I figured it couldn't hurt – learning was why I was there, it would demonstrate commitment, and I could get to know the other faculty who were taking the class. The class was long, but very interesting and informative.
Friday morning, I found an email from Joe, asking me to visit him at the EUSA office. I did, hoping there wasn't some sort of bad news there. I mean, I had asked the teachers. Maybe it was something good.
But no, it was not good.
Apparently he had been contacted by Carolyn. It was the same complaint – that I didn't seem interested enough, and again, coming from the teacher through Carolyn. Again, I was horrified. I had asked the teachers to be sure, and everything was in order. How could this be?
Joe gave me Carolyn's number, and said that I could call her and figure it out with her, but that we probably should start looking for other options. I pocketed the number, and talked with Joe for a while.
When I went home, I pondered calling the number to figure out things internship-wise, but I decided that I shouldn't be crying while calling, and put it off for a bit. When I had composed myself, I realized that I probably wouldn't be able to comfortably work there anymore. The paranoia from the first time was bad enough, but now a second time? Again with no warning signs, no feed-back, nothing? I decided that even if I could somehow convince Carolyn to place me somewhere, I would not be comfortable working at the school anymore.
So how had this all come about? Naturally, I suspect that it had to do with bad non-verbal cues on my part, and me not reading non-verbal cues they gave. The weekend prior, I had met with two Londoner friends I knew from the Internet, and our conversation about British communication had pointed a lot towards avoiding saying what was impolite, instead indicating it by non-verbal cues (looks, gestures), and by implication (euphemisms, but also just implying in general). Since I can't read social cues very well at all naturally, and that the cues were probably different here, I probably missed what it was that should have warned me that things were going wrong, or even cues to go and correct my behavior there. However, the two of them had also noted that all the British rules really didn't apply to foreigners, for the comforting reason that, “Everyone knows that foreigners are crazy.”
I am not a socially energetic person. Unlike many people, my presence does not energize others, but rather it calms and slows them down. I am not naturally social, but rather it is something that I have chosen to do. My natural state is observing and thinking, not actively seeking participation. I am not good at forming the appropriate facial expressions for situations. That these traits are generally maladaptive is not directly the question. Most of the time, I seem to manage decently well – why not here? I worry that my quiet, passive, and unemotional manner had something to do with not seeming interested. I would reserve the quality of “being interested” as a choice one makes, rather than something that is inherently one way or the other. Perhaps the Willow Dene people thought differently.
I feel that I have been wronged in this whole matter, but more than seeking to right some wrong, I really, really want to understand how this all happened. I don't, and I can't seem to figure it out with the knowledge at my command. Maybe I'll figure it out next week.
At least I didn't buy the monthly pass.
