Different . . . Not Less. Temple Grandin
To my surprise, my hard work, in combination with the support of an effective and helpful teacher, resulted in an “A!”
Doing well in that class made me realize the following: First, math was no longer to be feared—I could do well and even enjoy it! Second, I could use my newfound math abilities to make money by tutoring other students. And third, it became my impression that many people found statistics difficult because it was taught badly. Therefore, it became a personal goal of mine to teach statistics at the college level and do it well. That is how I came to teach statistics at various colleges as an adjunct professor, until 2008. Once I get tenure at Adelphi University, I may return to teaching statistics, in addition to courses in autism and special education.
In school, I remember struggling mightily to understand the concept of going from broad descriptions to honing in on a specific subject and then expanding upon that subject. This became pronounced when I was doing qualitative research as part of my graduate and doctoral work. It was only about halfway through a doctoral-level course in qualitative research, after drawing a funnel-shaped diagram, that I was able to grasp this concept more fully as I studied the way the broad end narrowed down to a more pointed tip. It would have been easier for me if my professor had included such a graphic in her lecture.
THE IMPORTANCE OF MENTORS
For me, mentors have played a valuable role throughout my school and teaching years. For instance, the orchestra conductor at my high school took a special interest in my musical curiosity and gave me free music lessons during his break time. When I was a professor of music in the Boston area, the dean of business became a mentor of mine. Although we did not share much in terms of common interests, he was very helpful in guiding me through the political maze that academic institutions can often be. Arnold Miller, the developer of the Miller Method, took a keen interest in my career, as well as in special education and autism. It was he who encouraged me to write my first book, Beyond the Wall: Personal Experiences with Autism and Asperger Syndrome, for which he wrote the foreword in the first edition. Dr Miller’s guidance was invaluable in getting me through my doctoral program at Boston University, right through my dissertation and beyond.
EMPLOYMENT
Working as a Youth
My first taste of work came at age 8, when I began shoveling my neighbors’ driveways after snowstorms. By middle school, I had teamed up with a friend, and the two of us had regular customers we shoveled for when needed. On a good day, we could make more than $50 each, which was a lot of money to a young kid in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Toward the end of elementary school, I had a paper route, which I maintained through middle school. A paper route was a great thing for a child to have, because it contained all the aspects of a business enterprise at a small enough level for a young person to handle. Part of differentiating my service from other paperboys was placing the newspaper between the storm and main front doors of each house, so my customers could get their paper while remaining indoors—especially in bad weather. After a while, I had both a morning and afternoon route, with nearly 100 customers in all. Weekly collections for the papers got to be onerous, so I converted to a monthly system, where I collected customer payments a month in advance and reduced my time knocking on doors by 75%.
I Won a Trip to Disney World from My Paper Route
Sometimes there were contests, whereupon getting a certain number of “starts” (new customers), a paperboy could win a prize, such as a free trip to Disney World. A free trip to Disney World for finding only 20 new customers seemed like a great deal. After exhausting possibilities for new customers within my paper route territory, I reached out to other parts of my neighborhood and soon had almost twice the number of “starts” required. I gave some of my starts to a friend of mine, who was also a paperboy, and we went to Disney World together and had a great time. I also got my brother involved in the newspaper route, and he helped to deliver papers, as well. Currently, I know that newspaper delivery jobs for youth are becoming rare. However, possible employment substitutes that combine the need to do a job well on a regular basis and other aspects of running a business on a child-sized scale include dog walking, babysitting, and lawn care.
Bicycles had become a very strong interest for me at this time, so I began repairing bicycles at an hourly rate of a dollar above minimum wage. As described earlier, my parents insisted that if I wanted a “grown-up” bicycle, I would have to earn my own money to pay for it.
Working in a Restaurant Was Sensorially Overwhelming
My first “real” job was working as a busboy at a steakhouse when I was about 15 years old. This was a horrible job. Back then, it did not occur to me that autism had anything to do with the problems I faced. However, now I realize that the conditions of a noisy, busy restaurant were sensorially overwhelming, causing me to shut down and work slowly. The managers certainly did not like that. As a result, I realized that I needed to find a different job. However, I would not leave even a bad job before finding another one first. Fortunately, I saw situations like this one as learning experiences that drove me to find more suitable employment, rather than wallowing in self-pity and remaining in ill-fitting jobs. In this case, I decided to look for a position as a bicycle mechanic.
Being a bicycle mechanic was a dream job to me, since fixing, designing, and assembling bicycles was my passion. My interest and skill with bicycles got to a point where I was able to disassemble a bike down to the ball bearings and build it back up again. I also taught myself how to lace together a bicycle wheel from a hub, a collection of spokes, and a rim. This was a valued skill in a bicycle mechanic, and demonstrating that I could build a wheel got me at least one job.
Dorm-Room Bike Repair and Tutoring Business
To get a bicycle repair job, I would ride my custom-made bicycle to a bike shop and strike up a conversation with one of the mechanics or the manager himself. After talking with the manager, I would ask if he needed a mechanic. My bicycle was my portfolio. By having something concrete to talk about, instead of making small talk, I was able to gain the manager’s attention and get a job.
I was employed at a number of shops and eventually worked my way up to managing these shops. In my late teens and early 20s, my grandfather offered to help set me up with my own bicycle shop. However, I already had a sense of what was needed to run a successful shop, and I preferred to focus my energies on higher education.
Knowing what I know about autism and sensory issues, I realize now that fixing bicycles in the back of the shop allowed me to better regulate my interactions with others in a way that suited me. Additionally, my interactions with other shop employees and customers related to my special interest in bicycles.
I received my two undergraduate degrees in (a) music education and (b) accounting and information systems at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. In looking for employment to raise money for tuition and other expenses, it made much more sense to use my bicycle repair skills rather than work in a minimum-wage work-study job in the noisy dining commons or in another position at the university.
My solution was to open my own bicycle shop…right in my dorm room. I set my repair prices at two-thirds what the local bicycle shop charged, and I plastered the campus with simple, hand-written signs photocopied onto orange Day-Glo card stock. Soon, I had a dozen or more bicycles to fix on any given Saturday. I could spend half a day repairing bicycles and make more than I would have during a week of employment in a work-study position.
My dorm room was perfect for bicycle repair. The cinderblock walls had a metal lip at the top for hanging pictures. I used that lip to hang a bicycle rack that was designed to be strapped to a car trunk. Then I placed a 4-foot length of wood across the “legs” of the bicycle rack and had a great shelf on which to place my tools while I worked.
One day, one of the bicyclists I hung around with at the university mentioned that there was a bicycle trade show in New York—bicycle nerd heaven! In finding out more about the trade show, I learned that only owners of bicycle shops were allowed to attend, as opposed to customers or interested people. As a result,