Preface: “Everyone’s Brain Is Different”
I never came upon any of my discoveries through
the process of rational thinking.
—Albert Einstein
Abe Fischler is an educational visionary and a friend of mine. Abe was president of Nova Southeastern University in Davie, Florida (west of Fort Lauderdale), from 1970 to 1992. Under his leadership, Nova developed the first doctoral distance education program—long before the Internet. Technology allowed it to evolve into today’s online educational programs. Today, Nova is the eighth largest private university in the country.
Abe and I got to be friends when my daughter, Rebecca, was attending the elementary school affiliated with Nova. I once asked him what he thought the biggest problem was with our country’s educational system. He thought for a moment and said, “It’s that we take all of our students and put them in the same box simply because they have birthdays the same year.”
That made me think of all I’d learned in every field of endeavor I had ever tried, including medicine, professional boxing, teaching, mentoring, writing, and movie and media production. Abe’s observation applied to the individuals in all of them. For me, it was a “lightbulb moment.” One size does not fit all. It never has. When it comes to teaching, learning, and training, it’s an inconvenient fact for our educational system, the workplace, and even society as a whole.
Fast-forward a few decades. My daughter, Rebecca, received her degree in discrete mathematics1 from the prestigious Georgia Institute of Technology, aka Georgia Tech, in 2009. She was one of the few women that year to earn her degree in this subject. This would have been quite an accomplishment under any circumstance but especially for her. Rebecca has twenty-three brain tumors, underwent two major brain surgeries at the Mayo Clinic when she was only a toddler, and had learning disabilities. This degree would have made her very valuable in the technology-driven job marketplace. However, shortly after receiving her diploma, she announced that she was going to stay in Atlanta and tutor math, one-on-one, to students with Asperger’s syndrome, high-functioning autism, and other learning disabilities. From her years in middle school when she helped tutor other students (yes, she tutored other kids), she knew she wanted to work with learning-challenged children. She would assist these “different brain” kids from time to time, and not only did her students benefit greatly but she loved doing it. They loved her, too—they flocked to her for help.
1 Discrete mathematics is the study of whole numbers and geometric structures having parts that can be counted versus analysis (the fancy name for calculus), which is concerned with mathematical representations of physically continuous structures, or abstract set theory, which deals with nonintuitive notions of infinity. Got that? Me neither.
Research in discrete math increased in the latter part of the twentieth century with the development of computers, which operate in discrete steps and store data in discrete bits. Discrete math concepts are useful in studying objects and problems in computer science, such as algorithms, programming languages, cryptography, and software development. Discrete math can be looked at as a way for computer science majors to satisfy their math requirement without dirtying their hands with much calculus, which most of them hate.
One day I asked Rebecca’s tutor at Georgia Tech, a PhD candidate in discrete math, what his friends with a discrete math degree do for a living. He said that one of them was breaking al-Qaeda code for the CIA and another had just gotten a job on Wall Street making $500K a year developing algorithms for a hedge fund.
I pressed her on her decision. “Rebecca, why not become a full-fledged teacher rather than a tutor? That way you’d be helping a whole classroom of students, and you’d have an actual career.”
She shook her head, smiled, and sighed. “Dad, you just don’t get it. Everyone’s brain is different. Brains are like snowflakes—no two are alike. The kids I want to work with can’t get the help they need in a classroom. They require one-on-one attention. And tutoring is going to be my career.”
Rebecca was so right that day. Everyone’s brain is different. She was also right about me— at least back then—not “getting it.” Sadly, it would take me many more years to get it.
Helping others get it when it comes to those with Asperger’s syndrome and similar “so-called” learning disabilities (so-called because today I think of them as simply different brains) is why I wrote this book. It wasn’t until my daughter was well into her adulthood that I discovered Rebecca had Asperger’s syndrome herself! It’s also why I have delayed the release of The Square Root of 2, a movie inspired by the true story of a young woman with a seizure disorder and learning challenges going off to college, where she encounters—and fights—the school’s unjust, one-size-fits-all system. It was only after I made the movie that I realized Rebecca had Asperger’s! This realization inspired me to write this book.
I’ve gained a great deal of knowledge and insight about Asperger’s syndrome over the past several years; if only I’d had it when my daughter was growing up. For most of her childhood, early adulthood, and all the way through her college years, I was just another well-intentioned parent who was clueless about Asperger’s. Now that I finally have some insights about dealing with this developmental difference, I want to share them.
I am a medical doctor and spent my career as an orthopedic surgeon, but that has nothing to do with why I wrote this book. After all, what do doctors who deal with the musculoskeletal system know about this stuff? I’m writing this book not as a professional authority on Asperger’s but as the parent of a child (who’s now an adult) with Asperger’s. I’m writing for other parents of children (or adults) who have Asperger’s, autism, or any of the other neurological, psychological, or learning disability labels applied to individuals whose brains are different. I’m writing for teachers, professionals,2 businesses, and the “Aspies” themselves. I guess when you get right down to it, I’m writing Aspertools for a pretty broad audience: all of society.
2 It’s not my intention to offend the true experts who have devoted their lives to the study of Asperger’s or the professions relating to such disorders. It’s more that I appreciate the words of Mark Twain: “I’ve never let my schooling interfere with my education.” That’s why I’m publishing this book now; I’m afraid further schooling will muddle my current rather clear vision.
So who am I calling an Aspie? Anyone whose brain is a bit different, anyone who can benefit from the lessons I’ve learned from my ongoing education about Asperger’s. Don’t worry if the individual you care about does not truly have Asperger’s syndrome or if some chapters in this book don’t apply to that person. Just take the material that’s of help. As a psychologist friend said, “Hackie, you may not realize it, but your book isn’t just about Asperger’s; it’s a book on parenting and relationships in general.” If the shoe fits, wear it. No need to get caught up in labels.
The truth is that we’re talking about the neurological, electrical wiring system that determines our behavior. The brain inside our skulls—our living “personal” computer—has its own “hardware.” And society seems to be trying to use the exact same “software” for every different brand of computer. If I were to try to run PC software on my Mac, I wouldn’t get very far. Society has to see that the brains of its members can be quite different. In fact, they’re getting more so as our central neurological structure undergoes a metamorphosis because of the demands that technology and our increasingly multitasking culture is placing upon us.
I think labels are a lousy way to describe a unique human being, whether we’re talking about Asperger’s, high-functioning autism, ADHD, ADD, ASD, or OCD, as well as giftedness, auditory or visual processing disorders, dyslexia, dyscalculia, executive functioning, depression, epilepsy, sensory integrative disorder, or Tourette’s. One size does not fit all. Everybody’s brain is different. Different methods can work for different brains. Abe Fischler’s summation of the educational system’s problem means that a group of kids the same age in the same classroom studying the same subject doesn’t mean they need to learn the same way, at the same pace, with the same method. With the use of online learning technology and modern teaching techniques, we can all proceed at our own pace.
My daughter, Rebecca, is my hero. She’s now in her thirties and, as she planned when she first graduated from Georgia Tech, is tutoring and mentoring a wide range of students whose brains are a bit different. She somehow managed to accomplish all this despite the cluelessness and missteps of her well-intentioned parents. Your Aspie (by that, I mean your individual who, among other traits, also happens to have a brain that works differently), no matter the age, deserves the same shot at maximizing his or her potential for independence and for living as any other person. And, dear reader, it’s your job to spread that message to our greater society.
The educational system and the workplace, even society at large, need to embrace the fact that every brain is different and make that work to everyone’s advantage. Leading-edge media and technology businesses are way ahead of America’s old-fashioned, one-size-fits-all educational system and traditional brick-and-mortar companies when it comes to this. Apple, Google, and other companies are leading the way in recruiting and harnessing the brainpower of employees whose brains are different. So let’s get real: neurodiversity is here to stay and, in fact, is a growing trend.
I didn’t really begin to “get” what Rebecca had said about no two brains being alike until she began her post-graduate internship at an independent school in Atlanta for students with academic and social differences.
During a visit with Rebecca, I told the headmistress I was interested in making a documentary about the school. I asked if I could observe Rebecca’s tutoring sessions and interview some of the students and parents. My real goal, however, was to learn more about learning challenges, particularly those related to Asperger’s.
Rebecca didn’t much care for her father hanging around, but she agreed to tolerate it as long as I didn’t distract the students . . . particularly hers. That meant I couldn’t do much filming or tape recording. But I did do a lot of observing of the academic environment. That’s when I finally began to grasp what Rebecca meant when she said that these kids whose brains worked differently needed one-on-one attention.
For example, Billy was doing well in all his high school courses except math. Rebecca worked long hours with Billy, meeting with him individually and in a group, with his parents, and with his math teacher. Finally, Rebecca realized that Billy was a visual learner who needed to see things move physically to understand mathematical concepts. She and the teacher concluded that Billy was a kinesthetic learner; that is, when they taught him by moving objects around on a desk, he came up with the answer about half of the time. After further studying the situation, Rebecca discovered that if she moved the objects only from right to left, Billy got the answer right 100 percent of the time. Who else could have figured that out? Certainly not some so-called neurotypical3 teacher in a big group classroom using one-size-fits-all teaching methods.
3 The autistic community coined the term neurotypical as a label for people who are not on the autism spectrum. The term is now used for anyone who does not have atypical neurology, i.e., anyone who does not have autism, Asperger’s, dyslexia, bipolar disorder, ADD/ADHD, or other similar conditions.
Today Rebecca is working with children who struggle with math at a middle school in Palm Beach County in South Florida. The school has an enrollment of 1,200 students, 30 of whom have Asperger’s syndrome. Some of her students have so-called learning difficulties (but actually they’re merely different). She continues to come up with creative tutoring solutions to help them understand the material. She works alongside Pati Fizzano, who teaches, and truly understands, students with Asperger’s. Pati is certified as an Exceptional Student Education (ESE) and autism spectrum disorder (ASD) teacher who has been involved in the Asperger’s community for many years. She has been coaching Rebecca and has made Rebecca her protégé.
One middle school student was a distraction to everyone. Bobby wouldn’t sit still in class and wanted nothing to do with math. Rebecca was asked to evaluate the situation. After a series of meetings with Bobby, his parents, and his teacher, Rebecca brought him alone into a study room for his first tutoring session. Bobby was distraught and could not stop pacing back and forth. Rebecca asked him to have a seat. He grudgingly took a chair but kept looking side to side, wringing his hands, and tugging at his hair. Even after Rebecca announced the session was starting, he couldn’t focus on any of the math concepts she was trying to convey. Realizing the situation wasn’t working, she asked Bobby, “Do you want to sit, or would you rather pace?”
Bobby looked at Rebecca in disbelief. “You mean I can pace while I do these problems and go through the lessons?”
Rebecca smiled. “Sure. If it will help you learn.”
It did.
Another problem student was Devin, a brilliant teen who hated doing math homework. No teacher could get him to stop listening to his iPod or watching videos on his phone. But Rebecca offered Devin a deal: he could play his music and watch his videos if he simultaneously did his math homework. Devin agreed and soon was doing his homework in an unorthodox multitasking environment that no other teacher or tutor would have considered—let alone allowed.
Why did Rebecca allow Bobby to pace back and forth and Devin to listen to music while she was tutoring them? Because she asked a simple question: What am I trying to accomplish?4 And in each of these cases, it was not putting a student in a traditional tutoring environment but getting them to learn math concepts successfully, consistently, and effectively. One-on-one; one brain to one brain.
Every brain is different. No one size fits all. No group teaching situation fits all. No one tutoring process fits all. When you think about it, why should they?
4 If I’m stalled on a project, I’ll call my mentor, Bernie Karcinell, who taught me to pose the question that Rebecca used: “What are we trying to accomplish here?” It can be easy to lose sight of the main goal. For instance, if we’re trying to change a negative behavior to a positive one, the key is the method we use. But we might be getting nowhere because we’re relying on the method that always worked for other individuals. To change this individual’s behavior, another method might be better, because every brain is different.
Bernie has been my friend and mentor for nearly thirty years. He’s a former partner at KPMG/Peat Marwick. He’s seventy-five years old and as brilliant as ever.
For thirty-six years in a row, I flew to Boston from Fort Lauderdale every September to deliver a lecture on “Clinical Aspects of the Upper Extremity” to the first-year class at my alma mater, Boston University’s School of Medicine.5 The lecture stressed that when God creates you, he puts the “computer” we call the brain, which controls your whole body, inside your skull. That computer gives off the “big electrical cable,” which we call the spinal cord, from where the “wires” we call nerves branch out. It’s a complicated setup. Each of us is so different physically, with nerves and muscles interacting and developing every which way, is it such a leap to think that the central neurological electrical circuitries we call our brains should also differ? Why should each brain be the same?
5 At BUSM, my first-year anatomy teacher was Dr. Elizabeth Moyer. She was a woman ahead of her time; she took guff from no one. That year she said, “You’ll probably move far away, where it’s nice and warm, and forget all about us.” But she challenged me to return to BU to teach. I told her someday I would. One day the next year I had a lunch appointment with Dr. Moyer. But she never showed up—she had died that morning of a pulmonary embolism. My lecture to the first-year class was how I kept my promise to her.
Danny, a brilliant seventeen-year-old Aspie who applied for an intern position with my media company, understood this. “Sure, people’s brains are like computers,” he said during our interview. “The Asperger brain is different, though. You can’t change the hardware in an Aspie brain. But you can change the software.”
So all of you caring about Aspies and cheering them on, take heart! There is hope. Every person’s brain is unique. You can change the software. You can learn how the brain of the Aspie whom you care for so much really works. But to do so, you’re going to have to open not just your heart but your mind as well to understand each Aspie’s unique way of “connecting the dots.”
Employing the principle that every brain is different helps Rebecca reach the students she tutors. Likewise, it has helped me to understand so much about Asperger’s and thus improve my relationship with my daughter a hundredfold. Once you also get this principle, you’ll do a better job of helping your Aspie—no matter what his age—maximize his potential.
And if you’re an Aspie—or if you’re a professional expert, such as a behavioral psychologist, psychiatrist, cognitive behavioral therapist, specially trained special education teacher, educated in and having devoted your life to Asperger’s syndrome6—reading this, don’t take offense; I’m just a formerly totally clueless parent who’s now a bit less clueless. I’m so lucky to have a wonderful ESE teacher Pati Fizzano, who “gets” Asperger’s and autism spectrum, and my daughter, Rebecca, a brilliant Aspie who “gets it,” teaching me the ropes and contributing greatly along the way.
6 Later I’ll address the change in nomenclature where the term Asperger’s has suddenly magically disappeared! Now it’s just part of the spectrum (a spectrum disorder means that there is a wide variation in how the disorder affects people). In fact, all of our brains are just part of the spectrum.