Dr. Mitch (Happy B-day Max)

Dr. Mitch (Happy B-day Max). 

Hey guys, welcome back! Yesterday was a very important day. “Why was it important?”,  you might be asking. Well, yesterday was a very important friend's 23 birthday (round of applause). This person, let's call him Max, is a big reason that I am going to be a teacher, as well as a reason of why I am so awesome and outgoing.

When I was diagnosed with autism and changed to a school that could better accommodate me, I was nervous. It wasn’t an all-consuming nervousness, it was just this little nag in the back of my mind telling me not to go to this school. Honestly, I think I would have done it with any school because I had never been the “new kid” before. But I wanted to go more than the nag didn't want me to go. On my first day of school, I walked in with no idea what was about to happen. I walked into my first class, and shortly after Max came in. We started to talk and we became instant friends. I walked out of that class with my confidence at 100% and I started to make friends all over the school.

Now as I touched on previously, sometimes people with autism can have inappropriate and often violent outbursts. These outbursts happen when the autistic person is overwhelmed in one form or another (it's too loud, why can’t I make friends? etc...). In my opinion, the less you understand the world (lower functioning), the more outbursts tend to happen. I was impacted by  the behavior issues that were bound to happen at this school, the school had a group of staff members called behavior support (basically the school’s police). If a student had an outburst the behavior support would come and restrain the child, so they could not hurt themselves or others. While I have always understood why they had to restrain people, it was still difficult to watch when it happened. Fortunately it never had to happen to me.

I worried for about a month that I would have to see one of my friends restrained, until one day, it almost happened. I walked into school early one morning and in the hallway another kid was yelling at Max, and calling him names. I told the kid to stop, but then he went crazy. A  member of behavior support was summoned and the kid was restrained. The kid kept cursing and calling Max names. Max started to yell and charge the kid, who was now restrained.

I made a split second decision, and cut Max off. I told him to look at me and take deep breaths. At first Max started to explain why he thought what he was doing was right. I was able to understand where Max was coming from, but I also understood why he couldn’t attack. With a little convincing, I was able to calm him down.

Max gave me the nickname, “Dr. Mitch” and the story spread throughout the school. As a result, the students started to look up to me, and the teachers trusted me with more and more responsibility. Frequently, I was called out of a class because behavior support knew that I could calm Max and others down. Eventually, I actually felt like I was more of a teacher than a student, and I fell in love with that feeling.

Max and I remained close friends during my four years at H.L.C. Unfortunately, when I went to high school we kind of grew apart. I just went to help him celebrate his birthday on Sunday, and I’m really hoping to start hanging out with him again. Thank you for everything, “Max” hope your birthday was fun!

Have a greattastic day everyone,

J. Mitchell Ulibarri.

Not Just Black and White

Not Just Black And White 

Hello everyone, Happy Valentine's Day!!!!!! I want you to imagine for a second, you’re a little kid again (3 or 4). Think about something you did that you were pretty proud of. It could be a game invented, or something that you built. Now, pretend your annoying little (or older)  brother or sister, walks to where you are, and he or she ruins whatever you are proud of. What would you do? Would you hit him or her? Would you bite? Would you scream? Most importantly why would you do it?

Of course I know why you would act out- you’re a kid. You haven't figured out how to act appropriately yet. If someone is nice to you they are your friend, but if they are mean to you, or they hurt you, then they are “bad”! My point is that when you’re that young, everything is black and white, and there is no in between. The problem is, sometimes with autism it is a lot harder to grow out of that. I can tell you from experience, it is a horrible way to live. I remember pushing all kinds of people away, and not really understanding why they kept leaving.

The most significant event(s) like this involved my “sisters”. In the summer of fifth grade, my brothers, a friend, and the neighbor girls were playing a game. One thing lead to another, and a fight broke out. The girls retreated, and told their dad, who told my dad. I came home from a friends house, and my dad was scolding my brothers. Ryan was the most upset out of everyone.  I didn't really care about what actually happened, all I cared about was who made Ryan upset. When I found out that the girls were responsible for everybody getting in trouble, they became pure evil in my mind. It didn't matter how much I loved them, or that we grew up together, they had hurt me by hurting Ryan.

From that point on, I would do whatever it took to get the girls in trouble. I would antagonize the girls until they beat me up, or did something else mean and then I would tell on them. If they didn't actually do something I would lie and say they did something. I would say anything. To illustrate how ridiculous this got, one of our last fights was about a brick:

I had snuck into their backyard, to start another fight. When I hopped the fence, I landed right next to a red brick with a rope tied around it. The rope was short, but had enough length to swing the brick around. I grabbed the brick and tossed it over the fence. The girls saw me and I ran out of their yard. My dad was in my backyard, so I ran to him and tried to convince him that the girls were trying to use the brick as a weapon. Dad called the girls over and he started to talk to them. He was not getting as mad at them as I thought he should be, so I lost it. I started to call the girls names and scream at them, and dad sent me inside.

Eventually of course, girls and I did become friends, but it was a long hard road to get to that point. Now the girls are my “sisters”, and some of my closest friends. I know for a fact, somewhere right now, there is some poor kid going through something exactly like what I went through. If you know “that kid”, please help him or her understand that the world is not just black and white. Explain to them how others feel when they do something. Explain that the person they are mad at, could have mutual feelings of dislike because of what they are doing. Generally speaking, autistic kids don't understand that. They feel that bad things can only happen to them not to other people, and if bad things do happen to others, they deserve it. As you know, the world is so much more complicated than that. People with autism just need a little prompting to figure out how to make friends.

Have a greattastic day

J. Mitchell Ulibarri

Have you Found your "Finger"?

Have you Found your "Finger"?

Hey everyone! How have you been? I didn't really know what I was going to write about this week. I played around with a few ideas, but none of them felt right. Then it hit me! To get from my first class, English, to my second class, American History, I have to walk through the the plaza in the middle of Columbus State’s campus. In the center of the plaza, on a cement pedestal, stands a ginormous Christopher Columbus statue. His body is turned to the right, but his head faces downtown. In his right hand is a  rolled map, and his left hand points toward downtown. As I walked to my class on Wednesday, I looked at the statue and remembered what it had done for me all last semester.

Now, over the summer I did something incredibly, mind-numbingly stupid. I forgot my information for my ACT/SAT. As a result, I could not get my scores. Luckily for me there was a solution. I could take placement tests on campus in the place of my ACT/SAT scores. So in July of last year, I went in to take the tests.

My mom and I printed out the bus routes the night before the tests, went over one I would take. I would get on the number two bus in Clintonville, and take it all the way down to the big Nationwide building downtown. From Nationwide, I would take a bus called the C-Max (no, I don’t know what it stands for), up to campus. On the way back, I would just reverse the trip. When I made my way to the plaza, and the first thing I saw was the big Chris Columbus statue pointing at me.

I asked for directions, and found my way to the testing center. The testing center is in the back of the campus, in the opposite direction of the Nationwide building. I went inside, sat down, said a quick prayer, and started the tests. Overall it took me two hours-ish to finish, so when I left the testing center I had already checked out. To make matters worse when I left, classes were in session, so campus was empty. It was like one of those old cowboy movies when the new guy walks into town and it's all creepy and deserted.

I started to panic because I didn’t know which way to go. I began to run around the campus to find someone who could help me, but all that did was get me lost. Fortunately after about 10-15 minutes, I found my way to the plaza. As I got closer to the pedestal, I realized that there were stairs leading up to the statue itself. I walked up the stairs and sat down, under the shade of the statue. I then of course, remembered that I had seen the statue pointing at me when I walked in. I realized that Christopher Columbus was pointing me home. When I started riding my bike to class, I would lock it up in that same general direction so that I could find my way back.

As I looked at the statue this week, I started to think about the all of the people in my life. I realized that the people I love the most are exactly, in one way or another, like that finger. My Brother Ryan, has always been there for me no matter what. My aunts, Melissa, Cyndi, Shana, and my Grandma, Bev (Nimba), always give the best advice. S.M. and by extension, Sam’s fans has taught me, that no matter how much something sucks, it will always gets better. My Parish, my mom and dad, and all of the other groups I am in, keep me on the right path, spiritually and in life. My grade school teachers, both taught me in how to read and write, etc... but they also taught me more recently, how to be a teacher. Of course my “sisters”, have helped me realize how awesome I am, and help me with anything I ask them for help with. There are so many more people who have helped me get to be where I am and I'm eternally grateful. If you are struggling with something, find the people who make up your “finger” and let them guide you.  I promise it helps.

Have A greattastic day (or night)

J. Mitchell Ulibarri

Weird is a Side Effect

Weird is a Side Effect

Hello again, welcome back! 
 
Before I continue, I would just like to congratulate Cousin Simple on their new song Honeybee that came out last night. Please give it a listen on Spotify. I’m so proud of you guys!

 
On Saturday last week, my dad walked into the kitchen when I was eating breakfast. “I was thinking,” he said, “for your blog, if you want to help people, you should start with your childhood.” I hadn't actually thought of that, but it makes sense. Writing about the struggles of autistic adulthood is important, but it started when I was a kid. Without further ado, let's get started.
The first few years of my life were fairly normal. I did anything that a normal kid did. There were two reasons for the normality in my childhood: 

1) All little kids are weird. Think about it, we all have that story. You know, the story your parents told when you were about ten. It was about something really “cute” you did. Now you're really embarrassed about it because now, you’re ten, and you understand how weird whatever you did was.

2) I’m the first born. My parents didn't have anyone to compare me to except the kids I was friends with, who as I mentioned before, were probably weirdos! The problem is that most kids grow out of being weird. People with autism (usually) don't.
 
By second grade, I had already started to become the odd man out. I still put things in my mouth that I was not supposed to, and I could not learn as fast as everyone else. I hated it when teachers yelled at the class because I felt like I was in trouble. When the class got too loud, and I knew the teacher was going to yell, I would put my head down and cover my ears, and start to shake. While people thought it was kind of weird, I still managed to keep a good amount of friends until about fourth grade.

In fourth grade this kid (who will remain nameless), that I thought was my friend, started to bully me. I can’t remember all of the things that he did, but I do remember that he made me feel like crap all the time. More and more people stopped being my friend, so by sixth grade I felt completely alone. On top of that, I started to fail my classes. My parents, realizing the school was not a good fit for me anymore, decided to send me to another school.
   
The school my parents found was a school called, Haugland Learning Center (H.L.C.). At H.L.C, I spent a lot of my time helping people who were lower functioning then I was. As a result, I had more friends than I knew what to do with. My self esteem skyrocketed, and life was good.

Every year H.L.C put on a talent show. On the chosen weekend, the school would fill up with friends and family, who would watch us kids of all ages perform. In preparation for the show, every student in the school would describe themselves on a paper puzzle piece that would be hung up as decoration (a puzzle piece is the symbol for autism awareness). On its own, this practice would not have been a problem.

While I was doing well academically when I got the eighth grade, the teachers did not think socially I was ready for high school. I had to retake eighth grade two times. By my third 8th grade year, Ryan, one of my younger brothers, was also in eighth grade. That year when the teacher started handing out the puzzle pieces for the talent show, mine started talking to me. “You know you’re broken right?” it asked me, “Don’t you see it? You are only going to be successful here. You're going to be a failure in the real world. Ryan is about go to high school. Your baby brother, is about to prove that he is smarter than you!”

When inanimate objects start “talking” to you, take notice! I was so happy at H.L.C, but when I realized that it was holding me back, I knew I had to move on. Autism through H.L.C. was bullying me. Weird is a side effect of being awesome, don’t let what makes you awesome bully you.

                                                

Thanks for reading! 

Have a greattastic day-

J. Mitchell Ulibarri