The great thing about Neville is there's a little of him in each of us. Neville is on the autism spectrum. For those of you who don't include yourselves in this wonderful bubble we call education, the really socially awkward kid from 50 years ago became the autistic kid, which evolved into the autism spectrum; because "autistic" can't really cover both the Rain Man and that student who takes things a little too literally and can't stop talking about boats...repeatedly. Neville is on the lower end of the spectrum: he functions more or less normally in his broader day-to-day routines (with the exception of an occasional backward shirt), but his classmates' sarcasm is lost on him, he misses social cues yet is devastated when others criticize him, often tells elaborate stories as if they were true, and has the hardest time breaking any task into its requisite steps. Last year, Neville was a salmon fisherman. The other day, he furiously itched his head a la Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club, insisting he could concentrate on nothing. He is also learning the saxophone, and becoming an expert on surfing.

But like I said, we all have a little Neville in ourselves. Some of us will pretend we know about something others are talking about, only to get caught up in our own deception in half a minute's discussion. Some tend to fixate on social faux pas, trying to make up for them so earnestly that we commit five more in the process. Others have wonderful work ethic...after taking 60 minutes to just get started. Still others just want to be alone from time to time, and don't know how to express that in a socially acceptable way.

The trouble for Neville is that while we all have a little part of Neville in ourselves, Neville has every part of Neville in himself. Those little issues we fight to brush under the rug every day would form a small hill under any rug Neville tried to use. That's why I love him so much: because he fights with those pieces of ourselves we wrestle with every minute of every day. All things considered, he does a pretty good job.

Now begins Week 4 in my new job as a learning specialist at a school for students with "diverse learning styles." One might have thought that after the summer spent doing much relaxing and little stressing on Martha's Vineyard, I would be adverse to any type of work, but then this new job can barely be considered work. Even my roomie, (translation: the teacher with whom I share an office) who loves to fake-beef about our school, refers only to his second job as "work." We'll be finishing up on a Friday, packing our bags and he'll grab his clothes for the restaurant and say, "Alright, it's time to go to work." At this new job, I collaborate with students, parents, and teachers to best cater to each student's learning needs. I never realized how great it would be to love both what you do and who you do it with.

Pot and Puppies

Tonight, walking home from the bus, the park was full of people walking their dogs and the streets were rich with the smell of pot. I love my neighborhood.