-by Iris Jung (“im spektrum”)

In my Maturazeitung, it stated that I was adaptable and would rarely say if something didn't suit me. Fifteen years later, it still annoys me. Not because it's not true. I've adapted. But I felt it as a necessity in order not to attract attention, not to offend somebody and not to make my school career more difficult. Did I like that? No. Also, rarely had anyone told me directly to conform. It was a feeling I developed early on. The first time I realized it was long before Matura.

So, I was sweet and nice and a good student. Elementary school was, therefore, not a problem for me. Only later did I realize that I was lucky. Not only did I have the nicest teacher in the school, but also friends in my class. And—I still remember—some kids were conspicuous. I found it rather funny, but they were considered naughty, attracting attention. However, my brother fared differently than me in elementary school. Two years after me, he came to the same school. His teacher wasn't that nice—he didn't have as much luck with assignments as I had before and didn't have as much free time for his friends. Somehow, as I look back, different people implied he was one of those conspicuous boys, too. He stood out. I don't know if I ever really felt that way about him. But the big difference: His strict teacher made it clear—not everyone can be taken into consideration.

Why am I mentioning this? My brother has dyslexia. The impact? Large. Before he had reached the age of 9, he experienced humiliation from his teacher. Other effects? My mother was a teacher herself, but at the time, she was a housewife—and in the end, she was also his tutor. Not every family can afford tutoring and support. And what can't be done at school has to be done at home. What is difficult in relation to dyslexia must be practiced separately. More difficulties? Knowledge about dyslexia was rare—among teachers, our mother and in the social environment. Many who thought they were "considerate" and "meaning well" only amplified insecurities, frustration and issues associated with dyslexia, such as introversion and phobias. “Well-intentioned” out of ignorance or due to a lack of learning about this in training (university, PH)—with a good conscience—as one deems appropriate. Clichés served due to a lack of awareness. He just has to practice more; then it'll be fine...

All of this happened more than two decades ago. In the meantime, my brother has successfully completed an apprenticeship and set up his own company. I studied educational science (Bildungswissenschaft), focussing on inclusive education and have been back in school for nine years, professionally—because of my clients and as an assistant. So many years have passed, one might think that a lot has changed in the meantime. In the school system, in the teaching staff, in teacher training and with regard to inclusion.

Inclusive pedagogy has found its way into the curriculum of teacher training courses in universities or PH. The new, young teachers are greeted with joy at the beginning of the school year. Unfortunately, often, only to find out that the idea of performance seems to be even more deeply rooted in people's heads than the idea of taking every child or young person into consideration. Inclusion? As if they had never heard of it. "Why should so much consideration be given to his illness?"—some ask when speaking about autism. A sentence that hurts and reminds me of more than two decades ago. Back then, it was about dyslexia, but there was also the same lack of consideration, knowledge and awareness. "He's lucky with his teaching team."—because luck is still important. Luck! A team of teachers who have a say in how not only the school education but also the pupil’s own development is designed. What impact does this have on one's personal future, opportunities, self-worth and the idea of who one is? Because of the invisibility of autism and the many needed explanations as well as discussions, luck is an even more important factor for many pupils.

Statements like these are not addressed to the pupil but to the assistant. A person who is a mediator and also a protective shield. Assistance is given to a person with a diagnosis if there are enough professionals for the job and if it's a type of school with the possibility of assistance (specifically and not just for a certain period of time). What can happen if this is not received? Frustration, anger, sadness, shame and above all, the lack of opportunity for individual support in one's own school career and a lack of skills development. School and learning appear as negative. School biographies are promoted in one direction early on. What else can happen? Adapt, or try not to attract attention. Masking. But this is not possible for every person, and if it is, only for a certain period of time, with the greatest expenditure of energy. The chance of a meltdown or shutdown is increasing. But you do not stand out to a certain extent. And isn't it good not to attract attention? Not to offend somebody? Not to complicate your school career? But at the same time, don't forget to focus, learn, write, calculate...

Individuals on the autism spectrum are confronted with sometimes “well-intentioned” and often clichéd “consideration”—but only enough so that others are, of course, not disadvantaged. Or should Nachteilsaugleich be granted at all at school? Is it maybe “mean” towards other pupils? The debate about "disadvantage compensation" becomes a debate about whether the “comfort” of the class and the teacher or the energy expenditure, the effort and the frustration of the individual is prioritized.

And where is society’s awareness? In order to change this, the association "im spektrum" was founded with the aim to present the autism spectrum first-hand—from autistic people and people in their environment—to explain it, make it possible to experience it and do away with clichés.

"...SINCE SHE IS SO ADAPTABLE."