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intheheartTitle: Click
Rating: PG
Summary: Summer, stimming, and first grade.
Warnings: Deals with quiet hands and the aftermath of abuse, though it does not take place in the story.
Notes: More Summer! I love Summer.
On the second day of school, as the other children were lining up to go to music class, Teacher called Summer and asked her to stay after. Summer went slowly back to her desk and stood by it, tracing her finger across the swirls of the wood, while Teacher sent the other children with the aide to music.
She was in trouble. That much was obvious. Nobody stayed after unless they were in trouble. It was just that she couldn't think of what she'd done to get in trouble.
And she'd so wanted to do well. It was her first year in regular school and Summer did not want to be sent back to the special school. She hadn't minded it there, much, but regular school was... well, regular, and she was supposed to be regular too, just like all the other kids.
Teacher called her over to the big desk, and Summer went, feet dragging.
"Sit down, Summer," Teacher said. Her voice was gentler than Summer had expected, like Mama when Mama was being kind.
Summer sat, and folded her hands in her lap, and stared down at them. She had found it was best not to say anything, and just wait until they told you what you had done wrong.
Teacher didn't say anything either, though, so they sat in silence for a moment, until Summer ventured, "What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing," Teacher said, her voice going up at the end. "Or rather... tell me, Summer, why do you click your pen so much?"
Oh. That.
Summer shrank down in her chair, and wedged her hands under her thighs so she didn't start tapping. Quiet hands, quiet hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I forgot." Because she didn't have to have quiet hands at home, nobody minded at home, but at school, quiet hands, she forgot... "I forgot."
"You forgot?" Teacher's voice was very soft.
"I'm not supposed to," she said. Quiet hands. "I'm sorry."
Teacher was quiet for a long moment, and Summer didn't dare look up at her. But when Teacher did talk it was not what she had expected. "You have Asperger's, right? You're autistic?"
Summer nodded, and lifted her eyes a little to stare at the brown edge of Teacher's desk.
"So, when you click your pen, are you stimming?"
She blinked. Mama used that word sometimes, and her therapist, but not a lot of other people. "Yes? I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," and Teacher's voice sounded clogged, like she was sick. Summer looked up quickly, just enough to catch Teacher's face and how pale it was and how wet her eyes were. "It's just... I'm sorry. Your pen-clicking is bothering some of the other children. Now, I know it is very important and you need to be able to stim. Can you help me think of a way that you can stim quietly?"
Nobody had ever asked her that before. Summer shook her head.
"Okay," Teacher said. "Well, why don't you go home and ask your mom about it? I know she's in special education. Do you think she'll have some ideas?" Summer nodded. "Good. Let's walk down to music class now, all right?"
Summer nodded, and got up, but then stopped. "Teacher?" she said, a little shyly. "Maybe I shouldn't have a pen that clicks, if it bothers people? I could give it to you."
"But then you wouldn't have a pen." Teacher frowned for a moment, then smiled. "I know. I'll trade you."
She reached into her desk and pulled out a smooth silver pen with a soft black cap on the top. "Here. What do you think of this?"
Summer took the pen and played with it a little, pressing her thumb against the soft top. It didn't make the click noise she liked, but it squished nicely, and it didn't hurt her thumb the way the click top sometimes did. Besides, the pen twisted to let the nib out, and she liked that, liked the very soft click and the twisting movement and the slick sides of the pen against her fingertips. "I like it a lot," she said.
"Good," Teacher said. "You keep that. If it doesn't help and you need to click something, come talk to me, but we'll see if that works, all right? Thank you for helping me work this out, Summer."
Summer nodded, and looked up again, to see that Teacher was smiling.
Rating: PG
Summary: Summer, stimming, and first grade.
Warnings: Deals with quiet hands and the aftermath of abuse, though it does not take place in the story.
Notes: More Summer! I love Summer.
On the second day of school, as the other children were lining up to go to music class, Teacher called Summer and asked her to stay after. Summer went slowly back to her desk and stood by it, tracing her finger across the swirls of the wood, while Teacher sent the other children with the aide to music.
She was in trouble. That much was obvious. Nobody stayed after unless they were in trouble. It was just that she couldn't think of what she'd done to get in trouble.
And she'd so wanted to do well. It was her first year in regular school and Summer did not want to be sent back to the special school. She hadn't minded it there, much, but regular school was... well, regular, and she was supposed to be regular too, just like all the other kids.
Teacher called her over to the big desk, and Summer went, feet dragging.
"Sit down, Summer," Teacher said. Her voice was gentler than Summer had expected, like Mama when Mama was being kind.
Summer sat, and folded her hands in her lap, and stared down at them. She had found it was best not to say anything, and just wait until they told you what you had done wrong.
Teacher didn't say anything either, though, so they sat in silence for a moment, until Summer ventured, "What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing," Teacher said, her voice going up at the end. "Or rather... tell me, Summer, why do you click your pen so much?"
Oh. That.
Summer shrank down in her chair, and wedged her hands under her thighs so she didn't start tapping. Quiet hands, quiet hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I forgot." Because she didn't have to have quiet hands at home, nobody minded at home, but at school, quiet hands, she forgot... "I forgot."
"You forgot?" Teacher's voice was very soft.
"I'm not supposed to," she said. Quiet hands. "I'm sorry."
Teacher was quiet for a long moment, and Summer didn't dare look up at her. But when Teacher did talk it was not what she had expected. "You have Asperger's, right? You're autistic?"
Summer nodded, and lifted her eyes a little to stare at the brown edge of Teacher's desk.
"So, when you click your pen, are you stimming?"
She blinked. Mama used that word sometimes, and her therapist, but not a lot of other people. "Yes? I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," and Teacher's voice sounded clogged, like she was sick. Summer looked up quickly, just enough to catch Teacher's face and how pale it was and how wet her eyes were. "It's just... I'm sorry. Your pen-clicking is bothering some of the other children. Now, I know it is very important and you need to be able to stim. Can you help me think of a way that you can stim quietly?"
Nobody had ever asked her that before. Summer shook her head.
"Okay," Teacher said. "Well, why don't you go home and ask your mom about it? I know she's in special education. Do you think she'll have some ideas?" Summer nodded. "Good. Let's walk down to music class now, all right?"
Summer nodded, and got up, but then stopped. "Teacher?" she said, a little shyly. "Maybe I shouldn't have a pen that clicks, if it bothers people? I could give it to you."
"But then you wouldn't have a pen." Teacher frowned for a moment, then smiled. "I know. I'll trade you."
She reached into her desk and pulled out a smooth silver pen with a soft black cap on the top. "Here. What do you think of this?"
Summer took the pen and played with it a little, pressing her thumb against the soft top. It didn't make the click noise she liked, but it squished nicely, and it didn't hurt her thumb the way the click top sometimes did. Besides, the pen twisted to let the nib out, and she liked that, liked the very soft click and the twisting movement and the slick sides of the pen against her fingertips. "I like it a lot," she said.
"Good," Teacher said. "You keep that. If it doesn't help and you need to click something, come talk to me, but we'll see if that works, all right? Thank you for helping me work this out, Summer."
Summer nodded, and looked up again, to see that Teacher was smiling.
