My Autistic Experience With Eye-Contact: I don't need to look at you to speak to you (or hear you)
Growing up, especially in school, I was often scolded for "not paying attention" (regardless of whether I was actually paying attention or not).
Growing up, especially in school, I was often scolded for "not paying attention" (regardless of whether I was actually paying attention or not).
"Look at me!"
"Eyes on me!"
"Eyes to the front!"
"If you're drawing or doodling, you're not paying attention to what I'm saying," the teacher would say, somehow failing to comprehend that a person's ears can work fine even if their eyes are elsewhere.
The same teacher also thought one had to be "sitting appropriately" at your desk to listen.
"Feet on the floor! You may cross your ankles on the floor."
"Do not slouch!" "Don't cross your legs in your chair!"
"Be still and quiet! Don't make noises or bounce your legs!"
"YOU AREN'T LOOKING AT ME!"
"PAY ATTENTION!"
"GO OUT INTO THE HALLWAY!"
Out in the hallway, I could no longer hear the lesson.
"Why send me out of the classroom if you want me to learn?"
"Why do you need me to look at you when speaking?"
Questions that were never asked (because questioning my teacher would have been punished as backtalk).
My teacher wanted respect and felt my "refusal" to look at her (or be still and quiet) whenever she spoke was disrespectful.
My teacher didn't understand that looking at her when she spoke to me (and trying very hard to appear still and attentive) meant I was too busy trying to make myself "appropriate" that I could not pay attention to the lessons she was teaching me.
My teacher did not understand that I was listening and that doodling, looking away, and splitting my attention was the only way I could focus in a busy and chaotic environment (like a classroom).
My teacher didn't understand that I am a visual thinker who needs to visualize things to process and comprehend them.
My teacher didn't know I often need to look away when talking or listening to something, especially new information.
My teacher didn't understand my need for movement, my Autism, or my ADHD. Instead, my teacher saw a "bad kid" who needed to learn to "act like everyone else" to stay in the classroom.
My teacher wanted to kick me out of her classroom. My teacher tried to have me put in the segregated special education classroom, but my test scores were too high (and my guardians pushed back), so the school sent me back to her.
My teacher did not understand me, so instead of supporting me, she punished me, labeling me "a disruption" to her teaching and my peers.
My teacher framed me and my "behaviors" as the problem, demanding conformity instead of considering my unmet needs, which prevented me from engaging in the classroom equitably.
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