The Adventure of the Dyspraxia Diary II
Today marks the beginning of Dyspraxia Awareness Week and in honour of that I thought the best way I can spread awareness of dyspraxia is to share my own experience. To that end I've been noting down dyspraxia moments I've had over the last week, moments which people without dyspraxia don't generally have...
Monday, 7AM
I'm in the midst of a nasty cold, an occupational hazard when you work in a school. This causes issues for me because I've never really learnt how to effectively blow my nose. It's one of those things that you are told to do from a young age but no-one ever explains how to do it. Obviously I understand the principle and I can manage to eject some phlegm from my nose but it's never very effective. It's really unpleasant when you're not feeling well and try as you might you can't blow your nose and have at least a few minutes relief.
Monday, 2:30PM
I'm in the school's swimming pool attempting to support the students to learn to swim. I have never really enjoyed swimming, not least because I am terrible at it. I can get into a pool and not drown but I have very limited swimming ability. I discovered that children with dyspraxia tend to struggle to swim on their front but can swim well either underwater or on their back and I was very much in the latter camp. I could swim much more efficiently on my back than I ever could on my front to the point in our junior school swimming gala I very nearly won. Indeed, I would have been victorious had I not ended up starting to swim diagonally across the pool. I came third in what is perhaps the greatest sporting moment of my life.
It's fortunate that the school pool is shallow. The swimming teacher asks me to tie up a rope in order to create a lane and I feel hugely uncomfortable. Ropes and string are high up on my enemies list. I inevitably install the rope poorly and the swimming teacher has to demonstrate what I need to do on the edge of the pool. I self-deprecatingly say that it is far too practical to me, these days understanding that I may as well beat other people to joking about my incompetence.
Tuesday, 2PM
I've planned an art lesson which requires sellotape which is a mistake. Sellotape is one of those everyday items I despise. I find it supremely difficult to find the end and then lift it off without ripping off small pieces. In the end I ask another adult to do it for me claiming that their longer fingernails would be better whilst actually knowing that my fingernails are perfectly adequate it's just the person attached to them that is not. I'm also stunned at people who can somehow use their teeth to rip off a portion of sellotape perfectly neatly. When did they get taught to do this? As far as I'm concerned it's some sort of witchcraft. All sellotape should come on a dispenser which means the end never gets stuck on the tape and you can easily detach a piece. Honestly, the person who invented the sellotape dispenser is an unsung hero who really ought to be on the back of a banknote.
Wednesday, 2:30PM
I find myself in a dance lesson. It's nothing overly elaborate with songs from the video game Just Dance playing on the whiteboard. As an adult my role is always to lead by example and try to encourage the students to follow said lead. That's all very well if it's something I can actually do but dancing is way out of my comfort zone. I attempt to copy what the genie is doing in Prince Ali from Aladdin but I'm always about five minutes behind and my actions are a pale imitation.
I fear becoming famous and being asked to appear on Strictly Come Dancing and being one of those contestants who is so bad they end up going viral. The people on Gogglebox would be in stitches. There are those out there who claim that anyone can dance but those people haven't met the likes of me yet. Even when I was a student and had consumed vast amounts of alcohol I still didn't ever feel any confidence in my moves. I have several wedding on the horizon and I deeply fear the prospect of dancing and plan to find a chair and stick to it for the evening.
Thursday, 1:40PM
I'm teaching and trying to follow the routine of the class I'm in. This is a huge test of my short term memory which is lacking. I can remember that I had jam sandwiches for lunch when I was six and was sent home after another child hit me but I can't remember something I was thinking about five minute before. I end up missing a part of the routine and this can have sizeable ramifications when you are working with students with autism. Indeed, the part I am finding most difficult about my new role is remembering the complicated needs and routines of eighteen students with autism and the daily routines of each classroom.
The short-term memory issues come from the way my brain processes information. It needs time to think about things but that's difficult when you are teaching. Any good practitioner will tell you that the input in a lesson should be short and snappy and trying to conform to that and remember everything I need to is really difficult. It occurred to me this week that I really benefit from the visuals used in our school. Visual timetables and other resources are really helpful to support students with autism but I have realised they I find them really useful to and refer to them constantly. I don't have to rely on my brain remembering if there's a symbol telling me what to do next.
Friday, 3:40PM
I'm returning some resources to the art cupboard, something which should be a two minute task. One of the items is a small tub containing buttons and somehow between my hand and the shelf it ends up falling and so the entire art cupboard becomes a sea of buttons. Part of me is tempted just to run away but my morals are too strong so I find myself meticulously searching out every button and returning it to the safety of the tub.
I find this aspect of my clumsiness baffling. I drop things constantly and it also comes as a surprise. I'll be holding something perfectly safely in my hand and then suddenly it's on the floor. I think I've probably lost several whole days of my life picking things up I have dropped when you combine all the incidents as one.
Saturday, 11:30PM
I'm putting on a wash and struggle to open the container of washing tablets. It's child-proof to ensure young children don't eat the tabs but 'child-proof' is a synonym for 'Dan-proof'. The designers of such items are relying on the fact that children don't have the same dexterity as adults. The issue for me is that my dexterity is not much better than the average child. My work environment is filled with child-proof items which I have to contend with, much to my frustration. If all else fails, I end up using brute force or a sharp implement which usually does the job but leaves the item in a somewhat damaged condition.
Saturday, 6:45PM
I'm carrying pizzas that we've collected from the local takeaway for dinner. This means I must exit the car without using my hands. There is of course a danger that the pizzas are going to end up on the floor but if there is one thing I am going to grip hold of tightly it's pizza. It requires some concentration but it's focused on the arms rather than the legs. Somehow I manage to stab myself with the pointy bit of the door on the back of the leg. This causes a significant amount of pain, much more than I would have thought possible from such an accident.
This is the sort of minor accident I undergo on a daily basis. I am terrible at judging where the extremities of my body are in comparison to the obstacles around me. It's not helped being a large, six foot tall man which means that every doorway and entrance has limited clearance to the sides. If I ever design a house, I will ensure the doorways are large enough for me to walk through with very limited chance of banging my arms and/or legs.
Well there you go, that was another insight into my calamitous life!
Monday, 7AM
I'm in the midst of a nasty cold, an occupational hazard when you work in a school. This causes issues for me because I've never really learnt how to effectively blow my nose. It's one of those things that you are told to do from a young age but no-one ever explains how to do it. Obviously I understand the principle and I can manage to eject some phlegm from my nose but it's never very effective. It's really unpleasant when you're not feeling well and try as you might you can't blow your nose and have at least a few minutes relief.
Monday, 2:30PM
I'm in the school's swimming pool attempting to support the students to learn to swim. I have never really enjoyed swimming, not least because I am terrible at it. I can get into a pool and not drown but I have very limited swimming ability. I discovered that children with dyspraxia tend to struggle to swim on their front but can swim well either underwater or on their back and I was very much in the latter camp. I could swim much more efficiently on my back than I ever could on my front to the point in our junior school swimming gala I very nearly won. Indeed, I would have been victorious had I not ended up starting to swim diagonally across the pool. I came third in what is perhaps the greatest sporting moment of my life.
It's fortunate that the school pool is shallow. The swimming teacher asks me to tie up a rope in order to create a lane and I feel hugely uncomfortable. Ropes and string are high up on my enemies list. I inevitably install the rope poorly and the swimming teacher has to demonstrate what I need to do on the edge of the pool. I self-deprecatingly say that it is far too practical to me, these days understanding that I may as well beat other people to joking about my incompetence.
Tuesday, 2PM
I've planned an art lesson which requires sellotape which is a mistake. Sellotape is one of those everyday items I despise. I find it supremely difficult to find the end and then lift it off without ripping off small pieces. In the end I ask another adult to do it for me claiming that their longer fingernails would be better whilst actually knowing that my fingernails are perfectly adequate it's just the person attached to them that is not. I'm also stunned at people who can somehow use their teeth to rip off a portion of sellotape perfectly neatly. When did they get taught to do this? As far as I'm concerned it's some sort of witchcraft. All sellotape should come on a dispenser which means the end never gets stuck on the tape and you can easily detach a piece. Honestly, the person who invented the sellotape dispenser is an unsung hero who really ought to be on the back of a banknote.
Wednesday, 2:30PM
I find myself in a dance lesson. It's nothing overly elaborate with songs from the video game Just Dance playing on the whiteboard. As an adult my role is always to lead by example and try to encourage the students to follow said lead. That's all very well if it's something I can actually do but dancing is way out of my comfort zone. I attempt to copy what the genie is doing in Prince Ali from Aladdin but I'm always about five minutes behind and my actions are a pale imitation.
I fear becoming famous and being asked to appear on Strictly Come Dancing and being one of those contestants who is so bad they end up going viral. The people on Gogglebox would be in stitches. There are those out there who claim that anyone can dance but those people haven't met the likes of me yet. Even when I was a student and had consumed vast amounts of alcohol I still didn't ever feel any confidence in my moves. I have several wedding on the horizon and I deeply fear the prospect of dancing and plan to find a chair and stick to it for the evening.
Thursday, 1:40PM
I'm teaching and trying to follow the routine of the class I'm in. This is a huge test of my short term memory which is lacking. I can remember that I had jam sandwiches for lunch when I was six and was sent home after another child hit me but I can't remember something I was thinking about five minute before. I end up missing a part of the routine and this can have sizeable ramifications when you are working with students with autism. Indeed, the part I am finding most difficult about my new role is remembering the complicated needs and routines of eighteen students with autism and the daily routines of each classroom.
The short-term memory issues come from the way my brain processes information. It needs time to think about things but that's difficult when you are teaching. Any good practitioner will tell you that the input in a lesson should be short and snappy and trying to conform to that and remember everything I need to is really difficult. It occurred to me this week that I really benefit from the visuals used in our school. Visual timetables and other resources are really helpful to support students with autism but I have realised they I find them really useful to and refer to them constantly. I don't have to rely on my brain remembering if there's a symbol telling me what to do next.
Friday, 3:40PM
I'm returning some resources to the art cupboard, something which should be a two minute task. One of the items is a small tub containing buttons and somehow between my hand and the shelf it ends up falling and so the entire art cupboard becomes a sea of buttons. Part of me is tempted just to run away but my morals are too strong so I find myself meticulously searching out every button and returning it to the safety of the tub.
I find this aspect of my clumsiness baffling. I drop things constantly and it also comes as a surprise. I'll be holding something perfectly safely in my hand and then suddenly it's on the floor. I think I've probably lost several whole days of my life picking things up I have dropped when you combine all the incidents as one.
Saturday, 11:30PM
I'm putting on a wash and struggle to open the container of washing tablets. It's child-proof to ensure young children don't eat the tabs but 'child-proof' is a synonym for 'Dan-proof'. The designers of such items are relying on the fact that children don't have the same dexterity as adults. The issue for me is that my dexterity is not much better than the average child. My work environment is filled with child-proof items which I have to contend with, much to my frustration. If all else fails, I end up using brute force or a sharp implement which usually does the job but leaves the item in a somewhat damaged condition.
Saturday, 6:45PM
I'm carrying pizzas that we've collected from the local takeaway for dinner. This means I must exit the car without using my hands. There is of course a danger that the pizzas are going to end up on the floor but if there is one thing I am going to grip hold of tightly it's pizza. It requires some concentration but it's focused on the arms rather than the legs. Somehow I manage to stab myself with the pointy bit of the door on the back of the leg. This causes a significant amount of pain, much more than I would have thought possible from such an accident.
This is the sort of minor accident I undergo on a daily basis. I am terrible at judging where the extremities of my body are in comparison to the obstacles around me. It's not helped being a large, six foot tall man which means that every doorway and entrance has limited clearance to the sides. If I ever design a house, I will ensure the doorways are large enough for me to walk through with very limited chance of banging my arms and/or legs.
Well there you go, that was another insight into my calamitous life!
Comments
Post a Comment