I listened to a podcast this week that broke my heart and exploded my brain. I’m a big fan of Blindboy (formerly part of The Rubberbandits) and have followed his podcast for years, tuning in for his signature surrealism that weaves between the intriguingly serious and outright absurd. To the uninitiated, he’s just an Irish bloke with a bag on his head (true story) but if you’ve listened to him talk, you’ll likely appreciate the passion, deep intellect, humour and honesty with which he communicates to his audience.
This week’s episode took a slightly different tone, as Blindboy had just discovered through assessment that he’s autistic. At the age of 38, he’s now re-evaluating many of the things he struggled with throughout his life, realising where and how his neurodiversity played a role.
When I say this broke my heart, I’m certainly not referring to his diagnosis, but to the memories he shared about his childhood experiences of school. His overwhelm in group situations, confusion around social cues, and intense fascination of subjects or details that nobody else found interesting were all pathways to being punished, shamed, humiliated and rejected. Unsurprisingly, he withdrew inward. He stopped trying to share his interests and excitement for subjects, and instead found social cachet in being disruptive and rebellious. He was then relegated to the bottom classes, where ‘the bad kids’ were minded rather than educated, the (often spoken) understanding being that they were going nowhere in life.
In his episode, Blindboy articulates so well the echoing loneliness of the misunderstood. His story is sad to hear, but unfortunately not uncommon. So much unnecessary pain, confusion and rejection gets suffered by kids whose neurodiversity goes unidentified or unappreciated. Blindboy relates to the world autistically (which has been the key to his career success) but we hear countless stories of children unable to receive a proper education because the system didn’t recognise or cater for any sort of divergent thinking, be it dyslexia, autism, ADHD, or any other learning hybrid. This is shocking when you consider that 30-40% of the population are thought to be neurodiverse, and given that many go through life un-assessed, that figure is likely far higher.
I was 29 when I discovered I was dyslexic. It seemed incredible to me that dyslexia had never hindered my learning, as I was all too aware that my brother, also dyslexic, had received terrible treatment from teachers who labelled him ‘slow’ and less intelligent. (My brother is now a professor, writer, and one of the most intelligent people I know - so another one they missed!). Why was my experience any different? Good question.
The answer is that I’d sobbed and wailed and kicked and screamed so unrelentingly on my first day of nursery that my poor mum had no choice but to homeschool me until I was old enough and brave enough to go to school. She taught me words, letters, and numbers in a way that made sense to me, so by the time primary school started I could already read and write at a level that put me ahead of the class. So (here’s the crucial difference) I was told I was intelligent.
It’s unforgivable that we give kids these false indicators of what makes them intelligent or otherwise. That we diminish the brilliance of individuals by assessing them against such irrelevant markers (hands up who’s used Pythagoras’ Theorem in the last week). That we assume there’s one way to learn, and if a child has a different way of processing information, they are wrong. Or disabled.
The catch-all term ‘learning disabilities’ feels misjudged, given that our antiquated education system still only caters for one or two of the 7 different types of learners that make up the population. In any one classroom there will be very different ways in which students relate to the learning material, yet we still standardise logic-based testing and endless exams as the grading metric. For a system so focussed on logical learning, there seems a key piece of logic missing. Surely if the curriculum was designed more types of learners, fewer would be disabled by it.
Our learning styles make sense of why we may have a natural aptitude for certain subjects and find others more challenging. However, we’re often quick to decide ‘I’m bad at Maths’, ‘I can’t draw’, ‘I hate reading’, when it’s likely that some difficulties can be overcome through different teaching styles - perhaps even resulting in a confidence and love of what was first challenging. I was incredibly lucky to have someone teach me reading and spelling in a way that wasn’t overwhelming, so I could develop a relationship with words rather than a fear of them. Without that, I could have easily been told I was stupid, and slip through the system like so many others. The same brain in a different life.
It’s why I come back to the example of Blindboy. What drew me to his work was the way he thinks. His undeniable intelligence makes it hard to imagine he didn’t rip through school, devouring theories, exploring research, and writing and creating in the way he does today. How many brilliant kids get lost in the discouragement, left to figure it out for themselves? And how many settle for ‘stupid’?
It’s critical, particularly with children, that we don’t dismiss difference or label it ‘weird’. In those formative years, when our developing minds are learning who we are and how we’re perceived, to be overlooked or outright rejected is to be given the message that we’re less-than, or don’t belong. And that narrow framework ultimately affects everybody. When we collectively conform to one way of doing things, not only do we create outsiders but we also internalise the message that the world is black and white. There’s a right way and a wrong way. Pass or fail.
Diversity of thought, creativity and personality is what makes society richer, and possibilities greater. Through appreciating difference, we get to understand so much more about the world around us, and in turn become less fearful of seeming different ourselves. By learning about, and making space for different types of thinkers and creators, we broaden our society to become collectively more intelligent. And now more than ever, surely that’s the real education we need.
Listen to Blindboy talk about his own experience here. It’s a great episode and I highly recommend (as I really haven’t done him justice).
The Spin
We are all individual and will relate to the world differently. When we limit our ideals to one way, style, or image, we narrow our frame of reference and experience. This ultimately leaves the people outside this feeling shamed or undervalued, and the insiders likely being ignorant and (in fact) uneducated.
Disability is very dependent upon environment. It could be argued that if the education system only caters for one learning type, it isn’t the learners who are disabled, but the environment that is disabling.
What we are told as young kids can have a lasting impact on how we develop as adults. All children should be given the confidence in their potential and natural abilities, rather than feel they must conform to something that doesn’t maximise their brilliance.
Adding More Weight
How to Engage the 7 Types of Learners
Take the Quiz - What Type of Learner Are You?
And…
For those of you with young children, I want to shout out my friend’s brilliant start-up based around cooking cards for kids. BananRocket is all about maximising quality time between parents and children through fun recipes along with activity cards to appeal to all different types of learners.
As it says on the box, every child has superpowers. - Indeed!
***Aaaaand… They’re currently running a half-term special offer so you can use the code #EASTER at checkout for a 20% discount. ***