After I finished third grade, I left my elementary school for an intermediate school that serves the fourth through sixth graders of Westborough, Massachusetts. There were two other elementary schools in town, and, including mine, had around 100 students per grade. All of the kids in my grade would equal nearly the entire population of my elementary school, and the entire school had close to 1,000 students. I didn’t feel too nervous about transitioning schools because I knew the new school had very nice teachers and the administration had a successful track record of implementing positive life values (i.e., trust, respect, responsibility) into the curriculum. I also had my friends transitioning to the school with me, so I knew we were going to enjoy the school’s experiences together. Along with that, there were 200 other kids joining us at the school, too, and I was hopeful we would make some friends from the other schools. We did make several friends out of the 200, and we were especially close to the kids in our class. Throughout our time at the school, we would get together at each other’s houses and play video games and my personal favorite, man hunt, which is a combination of hide-and-seek and tag. There would be six or seven of us together at once, but a few times, especially at birthday parties, there would be close to 20 kids. I enjoyed spending time with my energetic and wild friends out of school, but in school, even though they were by my side, there were some stressful roadblocks that prevented me from succeeding to my full potential. Like in elementary school, the issues came from a music teacher who didn’t understand the sensory overload that impacted me each time I was in her chorus class and the the loud and sometimes chaotic atmosphere in the cafeteria.
When I got to the intermediate school, the teachers and administration did everything to make me and my fellow classmates feel welcome. They did activities to have us get to know each other better, and helped us complete the transition by answering our questions about the school and its expectations. There was one exception. A few days into my fourth-grade year, I met the final specialist teacher I would be working with from September to June. As soon as I got to understand her personality, I knew I was in trouble. She was very old-school and strict. For instance, she was one of those teachers who would refuse to let a student go to the bathroom regardless of how urgent his or her situation is. I could cope in the smaller setting of her music classroom, but there was another environment I saw her in that made my anxiety go through the roof.
Fifteen years later, I’m still unsure why the school made chorus mandatory for fourth-grade students. It’s normally an extracurricular activity that would be optional like band or orchestra, but I’m still baffled why we had to take it. Chorus itself wasn’t the scary part; instead, it was the environment of the room.
On a warm Tuesday afternoon in mid-September, my homeroom teacher said that my class would be spending our free period in the chorus room. I was curious to check it out because I had never done chorus before and I thought it would be fun to give it a try. But I was wrong. As soon as my classmates and I walked into the chorus room, we saw that the entire fourth grade was in there, too, which was full of nearly 300 kids all crammed onto chorus risers that spanned 25 to 30 feet. The loud laughter and yelling made me anxious, the tightness of the crowd made me claustrophobic, and I was petrified about what measures the teacher would do to quiet the kids down. When she walked in the room, I instantly could tell she was not happy and was in no mood for the students’ rambunctious behavior. She tried raising her voice by saying “quiet!” and shushing as loud as she could, but it didn’t work. Then, she took drastic measures and started aggressively banging the piano keys while continuing to sharply and sternly shush and yell. After the first time she did it, I started to feel stressed because I was upset she was scolding me because she was talking to the group as one, and that she would do it again. When we finally started to get going, I tried to hang in there with everyone. Every time when she stopped our singing because we were off, or after we finished the song, in the snap of a finger, all of the kids would start chatting and giggling and misbehaving all over again. And sure enough, she was back to banging on the piano keys as if they were drums, and speaking in her sharp tone. After the third time she and the students acted up, I decided I had enough and wanted to get the heck out of there. I remember feeling very overwhelmed and anxious, and telling with a flushed face that I would be right back. Somehow, I was able to escape the wrath of the crazy chorus room. I went to my homeroom to express my stress and feelings to my para, who was very supportive and wanted to help find an approach that would make me the least anxious.
After that hectic day, I told my parents about what happened, and they wanted to help me relax and not get burned out from anxiety. I kept thinking about the traumatic experience and it made me petrified that I would have to go through with it again. The stress got to the point where I couldn’t concentrate in class and it would impact my mood for the day. To not make my stress get any worse, my parents reached out to the school and told the administration the anxiety I was facing in the chorus room. After they talked, the decision was made to exempt me from chorus for the remainder of the year. I was beyond thrilled when I heard that because I wouldn’t have to deal with the screaming students and music teacher, and since chorus is optional in fifth and sixth grades, I wouldn’t have to go through the craziness anymore. If any child is in a chaotic environment where the loud noises and sensory overload are causing him or her to have intense anxiety, it is crucial for parents, teachers, and administration to find out as soon as possible. It can be difficult for autistic children to express their stressors, so if any adults or close friends see the child acting up or inadvertently taking his or her frustration out on them (displacement), then they should ask him or her if something’s wrong and look to come up with a plan to make the situation better. Everyone’s stressors are different, so not every technique will require the same outcome. I thought I was in the clear after getting to leave chorus, but I had more intense anxiety brewing in the cafeteria.
Unfortunately, changing schools did not change the environment of the cafeteria. In fact, this cafeteria was more sensory overloading than the one in my elementary school. Instead of having 100 other kids in the cafeteria at once, there were close to 300, so the noise was much more intense than before. To be honest, the kids certainly were loud, but I felt the noon aides were even louder. The only exception for the noon aides was one who was a close family friend of ours. She knew about the situation that I was facing, and she was very sweet and understanding about it and never lost it once. There were several incidents that I had with the noon aides through my three years at the school, but I’ll discuss a few that were very difficult for me and my senses.
One of the biggest issues that I had with the cafeteria was that there was a microphone the noon aides used to dismiss us from lunch back to our homerooms. When lunch neared its conclusion, they would look to quiet the 300 kids down before we left so we wouldn’t disturb the administration or other classes. The noon aides would start by calmly saying “be quiet” and shushing, but when the kids wouldn’t listen, they would speak even louder into it. The noise levels would echo and vibrate in my ears, and cause the sensory overload. Moreover, on days where the noon aides had no patience, other ones would get in on the yelling fun. Those that also screamed wouldn’t use the microphone, but if it was into the microphone, I would bet you that you could hear the commotion from a mile away. I remember on two different occasions where one of the noon aides didn’t use the microphone, but she would take out her frustrations on us in a sharp and piercing voice. One time I remember her saying, “You guys don’t know how to quiet down! Pick up this baloney and pick up your rambunctious attitudes and behave for once!” On another occasion when I was in fourth grade, “The fifth and sixth graders listen to us, and you don’t! You all need to listen, settle down, and knock it off!” With nearly every noon aide deciding that screaming and yelling were the appropriate measures to quieting the students down, my anxiety skyrocketed and I was in the same boat as I was with the chorus room, where I didn’t want to face the noon aides disciplining the rest of my class. I got to the point where I decided I didn’t want to put my ears through any more trouble with the intense sensory overload.
When my anxiety was preventing me from concentrating and having quality time with my friends, I knew it was time to get my parents involved. They knew how much of a struggle the cafeteria had been for me for several years dating back to my elementary school, so they wanted to find the right approach that would yield less stress for me. They reached out to school administration, and they said that I could leave the cafeteria early to go to my next class, which put me on cloud nine. Several times, my friends also left with me to keep me company and help me relax as we continued with the rest of our day. There were cycles where I would leave with my friends for a few weeks, then they would encourage me to stay until the regular dismissal and hear the rock-concert yelling from the noon aides. I tried reasoning with my friends how much the yelling bothered me, so they would agree to leave with me early, with seconds to spare before the craziness began. A few times, we would be down the hall and I could faintly hear the cafeteria commotion, but not so much to cause me anxiety because of how far away we were from the elements. I feel it is crucial to include any sensory overloads for any autistic children for their IEPs because of how they can lead to anxiety, tension, and stress for so many of them. Having the child’s liaison, teacher, and school officials understand the sensory issues can help put them in the child’s shoes about how intense the noises can be. I strongly feel school administrators should educate support staff about not only autism, but all disabilities that other students may have in the school.
A lot of autistic children have sensory overload from loud sounds, and the thought of having to deal with the noises can impact their moods and think the worst is yet to come when in reality it isn’t. When the hectic noises become an issue, it’s crucial for parents to get teachers and administration involved to see what accommodations can be made to make both sides happy. All sounds impact kids in different ways, so giving them support such as letting them leave the room at any time or giving them a break from their work can help reduce anxiety and promote a more productive environment. Children’s minds and senses are still developing into their teenage years, so looking at what loud noises or sensations give them anxiety will help determine the support they get for making them not as intense. Loud noises and sensory overload are impossible to avoid, but the appropriate ways kids and adults cope with them will help them navigate their lives with minimal stress and not have it be all that’s on their minds.
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