Kindergarten — what wonderful memories. This post is piggy-backing off of a previous post relating some of my experience of that school year — specifically, detailing why it was challenging for me as an autistic individual; a…STEALTH AUTISTIC. Because…no one knew I was. It wasn’t all bad. But here we are focusing on how certain authority figures, within their limited mental frameworks, could view me as being oppositional. I certainly wasn’t. I was a very obedient and rule-abiding child, although blind to certain societal norms and expectations, and endowed of rather independent thought. And maybe…when something made more rational sense to me than how I was told to go about something I might tweak it in a manner I saw more fit, but certainly not for the sake of going against the grain or defying authority. It could be that the reasoning behind a rule or widely accepted way of doing something wasn’t laid out well enough for me or wouldn’t have been my natural inclination. If it was a matter that really wasn’t a big deal whether you do it this way or that, I didn’t think there would be repercussions or waves.
This is another recollection of a kindergarten incident in which a teacher thought I was being rebellious. That day, all the kindergarteners in the school went to a particular teacher’s classroom to do an art project. This lady also had an authoritative and mean streak just like my regular teacher. (Why were these people kindergarten teachers? 🙄) What we were doing that day was coloring a picture of Jesus’ empty tomb. We were all doled out the coloring page and our own crayons. Before we could start, the teacher gave us a speech about how we should do our very best because these pictures were going to be entered into some schoolkid art contest in the community. And — this is important — do not sign your own name after you’ve finished coloring. She’ll do that part for us with her permanent marker.
I liked coloring. I set about choosing the perfect colors and then coloring perfectly inside the lines — I was good at that! While the other kids chose the obvious green for the grass and gray for the tomb I tried to be a bit creative and make mine stand out with a more artistically pleasing palette. I made the grass a bluish green and the tomb lavender toned. Not super tangential, still believable. I was proud when she walked by and made a positive comment on the colors I was using. A line was starting to form at the front of the classroom as kids finished their picture and brought it up to get their name printed on it. I thought about it for a moment. This is my picture — shouldn’t I sign it? The name printed in bold black letters also looks a bit garish. It makes sense for me to do it. If it needs my name, I can write my name. It’s not a big deal — it’s a signature on a coloring page. Sure, I’m not sticking exactly to protocol, but she’ll see that it looks fine. So, without giving it much more thought, I signed my name with a crayon.
But, since I had been given instructions to get in line and hand the picture over, I thought I should still do that, and she’ll see that’s it’s been signed. I thought maybe when she saw I’d already signed it, she’d be happy that I saved her the work of doing it herself! I watched as kids shuffled through the line, had their names printed on their pictures, and took their finished product back to their desk. I finally reached the table she was sitting behind, and, feeling pleased with my already-finished product, handed it over to her. She sat there looking at it for a moment and to my great surprise, suddenly crumpled it and threw it across the room, angrily yelling that she told me NOT to sign my name and that I’ve ruined it. When she was done yelling she instructed me to go retrieve the picture and uncrumple it. Shell-shocked, I robotically obeyed. I stood there with my now-sad picture next to the wall it had landed by, not knowing what to do until she ordered me to go sit down. The room was dead silent and I’m sure the remainder of the kids in line meekly handing over their pictures breathed a sigh a relief that they hadn’t done the same thing as me.
Later, we turned them in to our regular teacher. Well, come the day of the art contest, when I visited the museum or wherever it was they were hosting the event, what do you know, out of the entire kindergarten at our school, my poor crumpled coloring page was up on the awards wall, claiming a space next to select pictures from other schools! I had to wonder if the judges somehow surmised what had happened by the fact that the one picture with the aberrant signature was all crumpled up, and they felt sorry me for me. But no matter, after what I went through I did deserve an award! Or perhaps they were impressed by my superior coloring skills and artistic choices, crumple or no crumple. And hey, I got to sign my own artwork! The things we signature-oppressed artists have to go through…. So thankfully, it was a win in the end. In your face, Authority! No, not really, lol, because that’s not how I thought 😆
