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Fred sat in his seat in his classroom. He was trying hard to concentrate but couldn't because there were some kids in his class who were out of their seats walking around. A few others were tapping their feet or rocking in their chairs. Few others were playing with toys at their desks as the teacher teached. He was fiddling with a happy meal toy in his hand as he was talking. Fred couldn't understand how hard was it to sit still and not rock in your seat or tap your foot. He could sit still and doodle, why couldn't anyone else do that? Why couldn't anyone else just draw in their books or tap their pencils or tap them on their head? He kept trying to concentrate on Mr. Burgless but the sounds and walking kept distracting him. Then finally he couldn't take it anymore and said loudly "Will everyone please just sit down and be quiet and quit making noise?"
"No thanks," said a student named Adam.
"No," said other students.
"I can't even concentrate," said Fred. "I want you guys to stop making sounds and sit still and sit in your seats."
"Fred, you have to get used to all this, it's part of life," said Mr. Burgless. "Someday you will grow up and you will see all this all over and you have to learn to deal with it."
Then he went back to teaching. Kids went back to their stimming. All their stims were weird, why couldn't they stim like him? Why was his different than theirs? How could they tolerate sounds. How could they tolerate the chair squeaking or people walking around or people rocking. It all distracted him and made him nervous. It was all too much for him. He felt like screaming. He tapped his pencil angrily. No one said a word about it. He also noticed how Mr. Burgless had a schedule up on the board like all his teachers did in the past. He had never been in a classroom where there was no schedule up on the board. In fact the schedule never changed and if there be a change in the schedule, the whole school got alerted like if there is going to be a lock down or a fire drill and he couldn't understand why everyone had to know that ahead of time. One time someone pulled the alarm as a prank and everyone freaked out and panicked because it was unexpected but Fred didn't care for the change and couldn't understand why everyone was making a big deal about it and getting all upset about it or complaining or being annoyed by it. It was just a fire alarm, it wasn't the end of the world and who cares if they missed a few minutes of class or if there is slight change in the schedule. Why did everyone make a big deal about it? They were so stupid.

"Okay so Osama Bin Laden planned the terrorists attacks in twenty o' one and he hijacked four air lines and crashed them into the World trade Centers. The other airline crashed into the Pentagon in Washington DC and the other one was supposed to crash into the Whitehouse..." Mr Burgless kept talking telling everyone about the 9/11 attacks. Fred found terrorism interesting. It was the subject they were learning in History class. But he had problems grasping the details and trivia facts. He could never get good grades and everyone else could.
"There will be a test in two weeks on all this so you will have to study who the president of our country was and who planned the terrorist attacks and what the name of the group was and which flight was supposed to crash into the Whitehouse and you are going to have to know what the other flight numbers were that went down and crashed into which building and how many people died in the plane crashes and how many died in the World Trade Centers and how many people survived and got out of the building and how many were trapped in the elevators...."
Mr. Burgless went on and on about what everyone had to study for. He wrote it all down on the board and told everyone to copy it so they know what to study for. Fred couldn't understand why they had to know all this irrelevant stuff. It was trivia. He only needed to learn the history and why it happened, not about how many people died, how many were trapped, how many lived, know what time the towers went down or what time the planes crashed. Other students didn't care for that stuff either and it wasn't their interest but they still knew what they had to do and study.
The pacing and all the stimming drove him crazy he finally lost it. He stormed out of his seat and left the classroom. Mr. Burgless stopped his teaching and told everyone "Excuse me, I'll go see where Fred is going" and he left the classroom.
"Where are you going?"
"Just taking a walk," Fred lied. He had a fear of offending people so he had difficulty with honesty.
"Why?" Mr. Burgless asked.
"I need a break and need to stretch out," Fred lied again.
"Okay, you know you can walk around in the classroom."
"Nah, I don't want to disturb anyone."
"Why?"
Fred didn't answer. All these questions were driving him crazy. Why did people always have to ask him why why why, it was none of their business. Why did everyone always want logical explanations, it was none of their damn business. Don't give them an explanation, they ignore you and keep doing it until you follow their standards.
"Hey, why don't you want to pace in class? Why are you afraid it disturb people? Have they ever told you it did?"
"Will you stop with all the questions," Fred yelled. "God why do people want to know everything? I wish they mind their own business."
"Okay Fred, if you are going to misbehave, go to the office," said Mr. Burgless.
Fred just walked to the office without protest. He didn't need any logical explanation. Mr. Burgless went back to his classroom. "Okay Fred just went to the office for being disrespectful to me."
"How was he disrespectful?" asked another student named Jennifer.
"He got mad at me at me for all the questions I was asking him and he told me why can't we all mind our own business."
"He's weird," said Rachael.
"He's stupid," said Jeff.
"Okay we are going to get back to learning or else the schedule will be different because we fell behind. I hope none of you are upset that I stopped teaching for uh.. what time did I leave the classroom?"
"About five minutes ago," said Samantha.
"No it was at one thirty," Joshua shouted.
"Okay so I had been gone for two minutes," said Mr. Burgless after glancing at the clock. "I hope none of you are upset for the routine changing in our schedule. Fred just broke a rule of leaving the classroom."


Fred walked to the principal's office. He had been there before. He always got sent to the office. He walked in and saw the principal.
"You got in trouble again," said Principal Mennise. "What did you do this time?"
"My teacher was being nosy," said Fred.
He looked at him as he spoke but no one else ever looked at him so he felt ignored like no one listened or thought what he said was important. Despite that people would respond to him such as telling him they aren't interested or they find what he is talking about boring. It hurt his feelings. He wanted them to pretend they were interested but they always refused. Everyone told each other their topics were boring or they weren't interested in what they were saying.
"Nosy? How was he being nosy?" Principal Mennise asked.
"Asking me questions and wanting to know everything."
"Why is that a problem for you?"
"Because I don't need to tell everyone everything and they don't need to know everything."
"It's part of life, we have to know everything and you need to learn and get used to it," said principal Mennise. He went to his filing cabinet and took out his school record and did a another scratch mark he had been in there. Then he counted them and said "This is your twenty fifth time to the office this year and three hundred and fifth time since you have been a student here, I am going to set you up with a school counselor."
Principal picked up his phone and called for the school counselor. "Hi we have Fred Bedford in here again and he needs to see you, can you see him now?"
There was silence. "I see, okay...but you aren't seeing anyone right now so why would it matter if you see him now?....Okay wonderful, he is in the office."
Principal Mennise hung up.
Fred felt bad, he wished he could be normal. He hated being different, kids picked on him, didn't want him around and they all didn't look at him or read his brain and they always had to ask what's wrong, why couldn't they just look at his emotions and read his mind? They also had strong obsessions and interests and he didn't. They weren't as important to him and he didn't need to keep his focus on them. He also didn't need to talk about his interests all the time and he faked interests and never told anyone they were boring him. They still talk and talk and not shut up. It frustrated him.
Then the school counselor came to the office and called for Fred.
"You're going with her," Principal Mennise told him.
Fred got up and followed her to her office.
When they got to her office he sat down but the school counselor didn't say anything. He looked at her.
"What?' she asked.
"Are you going to say anything?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Like tell me your name or introduce yourself," Fred said.
"Well I am the school counselor, why do you need to know that? My name is on my desk."
Fred looked on her desk and sure enough, there was the name tag. Betsy Rider school counselor it read.
"I like it when people introduce themselves," said Fred.
"And why is that?" Betsy asked as she sat down.
"I don't know," Fred said. "I just like it that way."
"But why?"
"I just told you, I don't know."
"But there has to be a reason. "I don't know" is never the answer."
"I just feel cared for when people do it okay, I think it's polite and it makes me feel welcome so I know the person better," said Fred.
"But why do you not feel cared for when people don't tell you their name when you don't ask for their name?"
"I don't know."
"How come you don't know?"
"I don't know," Fred yelled. "Geez all these questions are driving me crazy."
"Explain what craziness is going on in your head," said Betsy.
"People want to know everything and they are so nosy why can't they just mind their own business?"
"Because it's part of the social rules, you have to give out logical explanations, if you don't it means you are hiding something and keeping something from us."
"Then maybe I am hiding something because I don't think it's anyone business to know everything about me," Fred yelled.
Besty got up and went to her desk and got out her ear plugs.
"What are you doing?" Fred asked.
"I am getting some ear plugs because you're yelling and it's bothering me so I am going to muffle it out so it's not as loud in here."
Fred felt hurt. Now she was going to ignore him because he is yelling.
"Great, so now you don't want to listen to me?"
"I do but you're yelling and it's upsetting me so it's better not to hear you yell. You can keep talking but it won't be as loud thanks to these ear plugs."
That was another weird thing in the world, lot of people had ear plugs and carried them with them everywhere they went. Fred never needed any but his mom always made him bring them with. Even babies had volume boxes inserted in their voice box when born to quiet down their crying so it's not so high pitched and when they shriek and scream as they play when they are older, then it get removed when they were old enough to be quiet and not be as loud.
"Okay I am ready to listen again," said Betsy.
"Can you take them out? I promise I won't yell anymore," said Fred.
Betsy took out her ear plugs. Fred felt better.
"Thank you," he said.
"Okay now where were we?"
"About people being nosy and not minding their own business," Fred replied.
"Why do you need to hide things?" Betsy asked.
"I don't know. I like my own privacy and I find it draining to keep answering everything. Sometimes I don't even have an explanation for stuff and people keep asking for it anyway and it makes me mad."
"I see. So why were you in the office?"
"My teacher sent me there," Fred replied.
"Why?" Betsy asked.
"I'm not sure. I said it was no one's business to know everything about me and she told me I was misbehaving and told me to go to the office."
And then what did you say?"
"Nothing. I just went to the office."
"Why didn't you ask why?"
"I didn't care to know."
"I see you are looking at me as you speak, why is that?"
"I don't know. I don't know why I look at people."
"So why were you sent to the office?"
"I thought I already told you?"
"You did?" Betsy asked.
Fred rolled his eyes and did a face palm.
"Why did you do that?"
"Nothing," Fred lied.
"Nothing?"
"Yes, nothing."
"But you just rolled your eyes and slapped your face," Betsy pointed out.
"Can't you tell? You asked me the same question I already answered."
"No I can't tell because I cannot read your mind."
"How hard is it to read someone's mind? It's so easy," Fred shouted.
"No it's not. It's impossible to read minds and you said you wouldn't yell."
"Sorry, it slipped. But I can tell when someone is upset without them telling me why and I can tell when someone is embarrassed without them telling me and stuff like that."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Betsy looked at the clock to see the time. "Okay, I am going to keep you in here for another ten minutes and then I will send you to class. Anything else you want to talk about?"
Fred shrugged.
"Hello?" Betsy asked.
"I said I don't know," Fred tried real hard keeping his voice down.
"No you didn't."
"This is I don't know," and Fred shrugged to show her. God why couldn't people read his brain. Why couldn't they watch his body movements and know them?
"So tell me, how are you getting along with other students in your classroom?"
"They all drive me crazy and they pick on me."
"How are they driving you crazy?"
"They don't stay in their seats, they rock in their chairs, tap their feet, play with toys that make noise, and it makes me all nervous and it distracts me."
"Sounds like Attention Deficit," said Betsy. "Why do kids pick on you?"
"I'm different," said Fred.
"How do they treat you?"
"They call me names, play tricks on me, don't want me around, they tell me to go away."
"What names do they call you?"
"Freak, weirdo, stupid, needy, idiot, imbecile, wretch, dumb, deaffie, air head, bimbo, bubblehead, all kinds of stuff."
"Do you know why they call you that stuff?"
"I'm different but to me they are all weird."
"How are they weird?"
"They don't look at me and kids used to ask me why am I staring at them and sometimes teachers would tell me to stop looking at them, they stand too close to me, they don't listen to me, they don't care about me, they ignore my feelings, they ask too many questions, they are sensitive to sounds so they have to wear ear plugs, some like to go dirty or wear the same outfits or wear costumes, they seem to always focus on the same thing and care to learn irrelevant stuff."
"I see," said Betsy. "Well our time is up, you can return to class and I am going to call your parents."
Fred got up and headed back to class not caring that she was going to call his parents.

Sitting in the waiting room, the eerie silence is broken only by the repetitive tapping of the receptionist kicking the ground and the squeak of a chair as another waiting client rocks back and forth. You wrap your arms around your dog as a nearby cat emits a warning hiss.
"Is that a Persian?" you ask the cat's owner, unable to stand the silence any longer. The cat's owner seems surprised at being spoken to, but then happily starts talking, and you begin to regret another failed attempt at small-talk.
"She's Persian as far back as we can trace on her mother's side, but on her father's side, her great-grandfather was a British Blue, and she has darker fur on her left front paw from that, as well as a scar from when she got into a fight with another cat three months ago, and..." The woman continues talking, oblivious as your attention is distracted by someone coming in with another dog. Your dog cheerfully greets the new arrival and it's owner, tail wagging, and the two dogs sniff and lick each other. Watching them, you find it hard to understand why more people don't have dogs. Such social, friendly animals...but no - somehow, people seem to be able to relate better to cats. The dog's owner takes a seat, but the seats are spaced too far apart to reach his dog for a pat. With a sigh, you remember the waiting room for your doctor, a specialist in Neurotypical disorder. There is always a pile of magazines to read there - magazines with glossy photos of clothing and makeup, articles about people and their relationships and lives... Here, there was just a pile of the usual detailed, technical magazines about specific topics.
A light goes on above the door to one of the consulting rooms, and you stand up and head over. As the door closes behind you, you hear the phone ring and the receptionist hesitating a long time before answering. Unusual - most bookings are done by e-mail.
The vet looks down as you enter, and greets your dog cheerfully, hardly seeming to notice you. You force yourself not to be offended - after all, as the receptionist told you last time, when you complained, your dog is the patient, not you!
"Hello Meg! You've grown a lot - I'd better weigh you again." She picks up the dog, places her on the scales and enters something into the computer, then puts her on the table, administers the vaccine and trims a long nail, all the while keeping up a friendly stream of chatter...to your dog. Finally, the vet looks at you, albeit uncertainly, and checks something on the computer.
"So you must be Relyce?"
"No - Relyce is my sister. She brought Meg last time. I'm Nela.". You can't help feeling a little exasperated - she recognized Meg easily enough, and the puppy had almost doubled in size since her last visit. One of the better points of Neurotypical disorder - you are unusually gifted at recognizing people.
The vet put Meg back on the floor and began spraying down the table.
"You're all finished?" you say.
"Yes..." The vet seems a little puzzled. "Did you want anything else?"
"No, that's all. Thanks," you reply, and leave.
Back in the waiting room, another receptionist is at the desk. You remember when you worked in a cafe, back in secondary school, and had to rotate with three other checkout operators on 15 minute shifts. You could have done a whole hour by yourself, but the management didn't think it was ethical to take advantage of your condition. The time off by yourself came in useful anyway, trying your utmost to memorize the menu...an attempt to fit in that went mostly unnoticed.

Gee golly gosh, yeah -

I wrote [not gotten around to posting anywhere yet] the following a couple weeks ago:

Let us imagine a scene in some unspecified country on the other side of the planet. Dr. Amoun is asked to evaluate Zarfa, a ten year old boy. Let us read though his case notes:

Z__, a male ten years old, was brought to my examining studio. He seemed ill at ease at first, but boldly asked me to turn on the lamp, even though there was more than adequate light from the window. He spoke without being spoken to, asking a number of irrelevant questions about my health and my day thus far, then tuned out when I had barely begun to answer his questions. He appeared bored when I wrote in my notebook, even though there were plenty of books scattered around the room, including basic texts on psychiatry. His parents say his reading skills are average, but he has no inclination to pick up a book.

His performance on the sorting test was poor, and although his mother says he likes animals he does not seem to recognize even so well known a mammal as the tarsier, even when the scientific name was given him. His answers to my questions were short and lacking informative content. After an hour I released him to the play area, where his actions were recorded on CCTV. He was unwilling or unable to play quietly by himself. Instead he kept going over to other children and trying to get them to run around or throw things.

I recommend further observation. My preliminary finding is that Z_ is a very troubled youngster, and untreated may constitute a danger to himself and others. This may be a case of HSH - Hyperactive Social Hypertrophy. We need to determine if poor parenting is responsible, or if there are genetic factors. If this be a correct diagnosis, the case need not be hopeless, given prompt intervention. Many HSH children can learn up to a point in school, and even hold down such menial jobs as salesman or crossing sweeper. My profound hope is that Z_ will not require institutionalization.

Does this seem in any way exaggerated or unreasonable? It really is not. It is really very close to what is said about us except it assumes a culture optimized for our senses and values. Of course, I would like to think we would be more likely to understand Zarfa's predicament as a 1 growing up in a world based on 4 and 5. He does not really have HSH or any other disorder - he is just different, born in the wrong time and place. His confused parents need to understand and make allowances for his unusual - we might almost say special - needs.

¬I have seen how ANY personality type - even 1 itself - can - in the wrong context - handicap the individual. I have also seen how any personality type, even very unhealthy 8, can - in the right context - advantage the individual.