When Weird Kids Become Weird Adults

I knew I was going to grow up some day. I counted on it. Like most of us, I had placed a premium on the value of the "future" me and relegated the "present" me as inchoate--a work in progress that would eventually be fully formed. If I could just hang on long enough, then I would come into my own. But the truth is harsh. "Past" me became "Present" me, and they seemed unsatisfying when "Future" me remained the same awkward kid of my childhood.

Weird. Strange. Odd. Reserved. Standoffish. Aloof. Pensive. Shy. Introvert.

I have had every one of those words ascribed to me. Although their connotations may swing between positive or negative, their underlying message is the same. I am an odd duck. I would say of myself that I am eccentric, but a friend informed me that I would have to be wealthy to claim to both the adjective and the noun. Despite our silent logomachy, I feel that I am closer to the truth using eccentric. Merriam Webster gives the etymology of eccentric as Greek ekkentros, from ex out of + kentron center. Indeed, eccentric precisely defines how I feel. I am always out of the center. Cockeyed and wonky. Sometimes I am ok with it. Sometimes I am not. Often, others are more disturbed by it than I could ever be.

As a child, I was quiet. Painfully so. I was the youngest of three kids, and I had a far stronger preference for books and daydreaming than I ever did for human interaction. I crept corners like a mouse. Skirting around edges. Not skulking as if I had something sketchy to do, but avoiding any small conversations that inevitably unnerved me.

How does one make small talk? I marvel at my social butterfly friends. How wonderful to flit in and out of offices and join circles of friends in idle conversation. I mean that with total respect and not an ounce of sarcasm or cynicism. I have read multiple self-help books on how to better coexist, and my go-to remains asking questions about the other person or people.

In total frankness, I do not know what to say or how to say it. Recently, my new boss (Update--now my FORMER boss) asked me how I was doing since joining the school. I verbally vomited some such comment about how everything was fine except for my fourth period. Then, I fled. If he had something further to say, then I will never know. I will return to work weirdness in a bit.

Needless to say, small talk is one of my many Achilles' heels. I am sure I would have far more and, if so, I would use all of those feet to travel far, far away.

Of course, since small talk is required in every social situation, failing to master it makes me continue to seem odd or shy.

Socially Awkward People on Social Media
This is where someone socially awkward can find some solace. While I am too old to know how social media affects young people, in adulthood, I can craft an online presence edited to more closely represent my love and my concern for others. I can remark from behind the keyboard. I can revise my thought and read it before posting it. People who would never hear those words from me in person will find me waxing poetic on their posts. Those are not words I would say in a hallway nor dare add to a conversation of two or more gathered together.

Still, I avoid too much social media interaction. It is taxing. I felt I had tamped down all the pings and notifications that set my nerves on edge until Windows 10 added a "like" feature to email. I have made numerous attempts to stifle this sound that runs up my spine and causes me undue panic. Unfortunately, I would have to turn off the notifications of actual email sounds that are important.

About Sounds
Sounds frighten me. Irritate me. Leave me anxiety ridden to the nth degree. Pens tapping or clicking set my teeth on edge. When I leave work, I have to decompress in complete silence. No noise except the white noise of the fan going. I do not listen to music to drown out other noises because the music itself rattles me if it is too loud or too wordy.

Phones ringing. People talking at a bar. Multiple people talking during a presentation. Noise. Noise. Noise. It takes me off whatever task that needs my complete focus.

Focus, What Focus?
You had my attention there for the first few minutes. I swear. I was listening as hard as I could. But then you went on for more than a few minutes and you didn't provide me a paper copy to focus on and write notes. That's the only way I get those little suckers trapped and on paper.

I have been called out on it since I can remember. But once you have passed Number 1 of your things to remind me about, I have completely forgotten or zoned out while you were talking. Did I remember to write that email? Wait--was that appointment today? Now, I am panicked and a whole new tempest is raging in my mind.

I understand that meetings and conversations have a purpose. I understand that a meeting is to connect and to give information to the parties included. I even try to write notes to keep myself straight. The best meeting people are the ones who write an agenda and give each attendee a copy. As to conversations, I try very hard to what people are saying. But then, perhaps, they're telling stories about their dogs or whatever. Meanwhile, I wander in thought to my most beloved dog. Suddenly, I am misty-eyed about my own beloved dog and have failed to hear anything else.

Don't Touch Me
I did not learn to hug without flinching until I was well into my thirties. My best friend's husband is a hugger. I mean, full on, bear hug kind of guy. My family already knows that physical contact is uncomfortable for me. My own children know that I have to ease into hugs or handholding or any of that stuff. Don't get me wrong--I have hugged them and kissed their cheeks, but I am not a warm, fuzzy mom.

My friend's husband was unaware. To his credit, he was polite about my standoffish behavior. But I started to really think about it. I wondered why it bothered me so much. It wasn't that my parents hadn't tried to hug me and give me love. No, instead, it was an utter fear of contact and awkwardness about how long to hug...did one do a full hug or a half hug or a pat on the back hug. They all were to stressful to consider.

After years of wondering about the correct hug protocol, I learned from him that I could just go in for the hug. So when I see him, I tell him to give me a big hug. I assume that I am not tense about it because I have initiated the hug, and I know that he, as a bear hug kind of guy, will know I am all on board.

(Don't get me wrong. I don't run around all willy nilly giving hugs. That is super weird and I am only mostly weird.)

But I digress. Long story short--any initiation of physical contact from me has been learned, is purposeful, and always predicated on an idea that it is welcome. Certainly, not the makings for great relationships.

I Couldn't Even Commit to My Husband's Last Name
If idle chat is difficult for me, then relationships are beyond terrifying.

Over twenty plus years ago, I would have told you that I did not take my husband's name because I was a feminist. Now, I know that is not the reason. It is the literal eccentric...truly, I am out of the circle. I always find a way to stand on the periphery. I am not doing the hokey pokey. I am not going to remotely join that circle.

Commitment is a big issue for me.

I don't commit to plans. I don't show up to parties. I don't commit to anything that I know will bring extreme discomfort. Jobs are a nightmare. Relationships are a mine field.

So What Is the Takeaway

No matter the word choice or connotation--weird kids become weird adults. The problem for the world is there are a lot of us. Totally valid humans with great gifts who don't fit into the mainstream.

What I know is that I keep going to counseling. I continue being the pharmaceutical companies' guinea pig. But it is all in an attempt to coexist. Truly, it is only an attempt to coexist.

Our country is getting better about dealing with the outliers. The level of understanding now is far better than when I was a child. Behavioral therapy teaches us that we can make changes to assimilate with more ease. Unfortunately, much more has to be done. It is not enough to expect "weird" people to fit in. Society has to do better at addressing those of us who don't fit in. The behavior of the majority must change to take those with eccentricities under their wing.

The talk has to be real. As an educator, I am always told that my first concern is always the student's needs. However, I am still a valid human. When I am acting standoffish or strange, why not have a conversation about it? Like, "Hey, Jen, you seem to be avoiding everyone?" Or "What's going on? I noticed that you're not playing well with others."

These conversations have to happen. We don't write off weird kids because they're acting strange. We write up plans to help them succeed. We meet with them. We support them. We love them through their difficulties.

But we don't do that with adults. We don't form teams to help struggling adults at jobs. We don't determine real goals and objectives for how their strengths and gifts can best be used in our world. As an adult, the expectation is that assimilation is a solo endeavor.

Imagine a world where a weird adult can openly say, "Hey, I am wonky. Here are the things I am great at doing. Here are the things that will traumatize me." Imagine a workplace where we create teams to support the people in an organization. Imagine a company that creates goals and objectives to bring out the best in those we know are capable of adding to the value to whatever endeavor.

The naysayers will argue that employers are not mental health professionals.

I agree. Employers have no obligation to help employees who struggle at work. But as humans, we have a responsibility to one another. When we see others suffering, we are tasked with more than offering a paycheck.

As I said, I am an educator. A pained, troubled, educator. I just quit another job. One of many. I am embarrassed and mortified. I have hurt a friend who went to bat for me. I have had many friends go to bat for me. I have failed them as well. I have acted strange or struck out at people over an attempt to defend myself. I correct and overcorrect my behavior.

I keep trying. I try again. I fail again. Some years have been amazing. I have gone multiple years in teaching with success, and I have loved the consistency of those times. I have had employers who loved me, and they went to great lengths to help me. I have had employers who hated me and were glad to be rid of me.

Whatever the case, I will pick myself up. I will dust myself off. I will try again. I will work again. But I will say this. The number of weird kids who turn into weird adults is growing. That's not just my opinion. That is based in fact. If we are obligated to help students navigate through school, then we are morally obligated to help those same people when they are adults.

Finally, I am not blaming anyone for my behavior. I own it. But I do want to work. I want to work and have the same warmth and kindness afforded to me that I have for my students. I want to be loved and accepted in spite of my weirdness.

On Kaepernick, For Stella

Ima
tellin it true
They my words, my own
Red, white, and blue.
It’s enuff
ya’ll done enuff
said enuff
so i’m here tryna
clear it up

Trump out here uppin
the ante
tweetin bout the shame
of Kaepernick
rilin the country
with his hate rhetoric

No one reading
articles no more
just jagged headlines
with truth told slant
skip straight to the
comments
to trip each other
up with
some acid rant

Trollin each other
foldin each other
Controllin each
other

You doan like the
news comin on at 8
thas aight
got 200 more
to subscribe to
your hate

Flippin an trippin
not mad enuff
yet
just wait
for Zuckerburg
writin his new
algorithm
gonna make
sure your rage
double dippin

dippin dots
rotten snots
all the left crawlin
on the sidelines
big tech
rings their bell
pings their bell
fillin our newsfeed
gotta blast the Republican rot

an doan think I forgot
the right wing
Trumpian fools
gettin
jacked up and whacked up
suckin the teat
of Fox News

you fools better look
Ayn Rand’s Anthem
N stop poppin
bout how Colin’s
kneelin aint patriotism
that’s collectivism

You callin
him un-American
cuz he won’t stand
and you won’t bend

Hey, Stella
just an FYI
G-mom gonna give
you a worldview
we live in An America
thas absolutely true
But the Americas
stretch up through
Canada
down south to Peru
all the way to
Chile
to Diego Ramirez
islands
till the last rockhopper
penquin makes a Cape Horn dive

Someday you gonna
have somebody ask
you where you stand
want you pickin
teams and
pickin a side
gotta join a club
and show your
‘Merican pride
But bein a citizen
here in the States
Got nothin to do
with bein n fear
of different
ideas
Naw, Sweet Girl

Ima tell you my truth
N all of it’s true
just love everyone
thas all you
gotta do
you don’t play on
a team
or have uterine
or racial
or gender
or religious
privilege

you a human
a steward
of this blue
planet
be it
people
or
animals
or
the ocean
or
land

you’re responsible
to do what’s right
and take a stand
not judge others
not drown their
demands

you doan stand
n their shoes
you doan know
their pain
you can’t rage
at their hurt
it’ll drive you
insane

Some day
someone’ll do
something weird
and crazy
and’ll make the
news
You might not
remember a player
named Kaepernick
or how people
howled
when he
stood for something
on bended knee

but I’m pretty
sure you’ll
remember me

here’s my words:
love everyone
hate what’s wrong
and for God’s Blessed Sake,
doan get worked up
bout what folks
are doin
during a song

@TimSweeneyEpic, @FortniteGame Has Invaded My Students' Minds, and I Demand You Give Them Back

For parents who don't play Fortnite, you are appeasing your kids by letting them play. I get it. You are the cool parent. You care about their school, their friends, their activities, and their well-being. I want to be that parent too.

For teachers who don't play Fortnite, you want your students to learn and know that they also play a game. You, too, try to be the cool teacher. You learn about the game, and you use the vernacular in class to build rapport with gamers (often about half your classes). I get that too. I know the lingo. I can do the dance.

For you, @TimSweeneyEpic, you have stolen an entire generation of students' minds, and I want them back.

We can make some kind of deal. I don't know--you can have them from 5-7 on school nights, and a maximum of 6 hours on the weekends. We can come to some kind of agreement on the specifics.

What I can't do, as an educator, is let you off the hook. Obviously, you are not alone. Tech companies thrive on keeping users online.

Tristan Harris writes an incredible article about it--"How Technology Hijacking Your Mind from a Magician and Google Design Ethicist" https://medium.com/thrive-global/how-technology-hijacks-peoples-minds-from-a-magician-and-google-s-design-ethicist-56d62ef5edf3 He estimates it is about a 12 minute read, but it can be scanned for highlights.

However, @TimSweeneyEpic, I suspect you are well aware of the way technology is used to keep users sucked into your game. But you don't even care about playing the games you create.

According to Stephen Totilo a Kotaku.com writer, "Even though much of his life would involve the creation of video games, Sweeney never became an avid gamer. Sure, he messed around with games, but, to this day, he thinks he has only finished two of them: Doom and Portal. He skipped Zelda and never touched a Final Fantasy. He tried Sonic the Hedgehog and Super Mario Bros., just for a few hours "I would play games long enough to discover what games were doing and how they were doing it. And then I'd spend the rest of my time building." ("The Quiet Tinkerer Who Makes Games Beautiful Finally Gets His Due" 2011).

I am appealing to you as your elder (June '70).

I, too, had an Atari. My brother and I cut lawns, so we could buy one. He, too, took apart lawnmowers and still takes apart all sorts of machines and puts them back together. He's older now and has his own tools, so he's no longer stealing my mom's steak knives to get stuff open. I didn't fix things nor build tech graphics to make computer games look better than what Atari had to offer. I write stuff and teach kids who hate to read. I am not wealthy and I have never owned a super fancy company.

But we are both responsible for educating this generation.

You and I had the benefit and the curse of moving from a small, finite source of information found in libraries with card catalogs and whatever the local library had to offer to an online world of infinite resources, information aggregators, and developing a way to winnow down the overwhelming search results.

We had the time to develop organically. We could read for hours without interruption. We could fiddle around outside or in the garage or at our friend's even cooler workshop. We could write letters to people starting with snail mail, an actual stamp, and a prayer that we would receive a response and transitioned to emails with automatic responses.

We had time.

We knew our time was valuable, and we were fairly selfish with where we spent our time. We did this because we were not dragged into a virtual casino that stole our time, invaded the reptilian part of our brains, and (as Tristan Harris opines) "hijacked" our minds.

I am not a Luddite. I love new technology. I love games. I love that I can get off work at Christmas break and play whatever game entertains me on any of my multiple game platforms for hours. I can play until the sun comes up.

But the crucial difference is education. Whether through self-education or through purposeful education, you and I have the ability to distinguish other ways to spend our time. Where to spend our time. Where to allot our resources. We know if we are being manipulated or robbed of our time. You know because you are able to hyperfocus on projects that appeal to your own "tinkering". I know because I am able to spend 2 hours writing a blog post that, perhaps, 37 people will read (based on the Blogger analytics' results of my last post). Like you, I am working and creating my own reality. Unlike you, I am not doing it for money. I just like to write.

I am going to do my part. I am going to try to stay current and create rapport with my gaming students. I promise that I will continue to educate myself and keep a "Growth Mindset" while building lessons for a new generation of students. I will not judge them for getting wrapped up in a game for hours nor scold them for being unable to keep from looking at their phones every few seconds. Heck, I don't want someone to judge who I am for staying holed up writing a blog essay.

But I need you to do your part.

You are going to have to acknowledge that our young people are too inexperienced to determine where they should spend their time. You and I weren't allowed to go to Vegas and gamble hours on end at 13. Our parents didn't plunk us down on a virtual street corner to fend for ourselves. Having Google out Fortnite's point of weakness for Android users is not your biggest problem.


Our problem, @TimSweeneyEpic, is that we had the ability to grow up and explore, and these kids have not. Our parents could kick us outside for hours and make us drink water from the hose without anyone calling the police on them for negligence. Our young people are not living in that same reality. Yes, they are exploring on their own. But we were able to start on the ground floor of actual books, and articles, and questionable gaming systems.

Now, I demand that you give them back their time. I get them from 7-3, Monday through Friday. We can negotiate the other terms.

I do not care what platform you use. I would love to see it incorporated as free educational games for teachers to use in class. (Not much money there, but how much do you need?) I can try to compete with you, but I feel you owe it to our young people to give back some of the time you have stolen.

The other Tech Giants love to give back through philanthropy. They throw money at problems.

Be better than them. Be bigger than them. Give back your users' time.

Parents and Educators--Here are resources to consider--
Check out Tristan Harris's Center for Human Technology--http://humanetech.com/ and his article "How Technology is Hijacking Your Mind--From a Magician and Google Ethicist"
Mack Ashworth's review--https://www.gamerevolution.com/guides/391403-fortnite-parent-review-is-fortnite-safe-for-children
Stephen Totilo's article on Tim Sweeney--https://kotaku.com/5865951/the-quiet-tinkerer-who-makes-games-beautiful-finally-gets-his-due