The Asperkid's (Secret) Book of Social Rules

by Jennifer Cook O'Toole

  Avoid

  These responses actually get in the way of communicating. They shut down a conversation, and really don’t help you listen:

  “That was dumb.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  “It’s your fault.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I think you’re just (blank).”

  “What you really need is…”

  “This reminds me of the time when I…”

  Instead, try

  You want to give the speaker power and encourage problem-solving:

  “So how are you going to handle that?”

  “What do you think should happen?”

  “What do you want to do next?”

  “How do you feel about the whole thing?”

  Empathy—that ability to anticipate and feel other people’s emotions—is difficult for anyone to really nail. We all tend to advise, tell, agree or disagree from our own perspective. For Aspies, it’s dang-near impossible. So don’t be frustrated if this seems weird or fake, especially at first. It probably will feel that way to you, and may even sound a little bit that way to other people. So what? You’re trying. And if you practice—with family, close friends, etc.—you will get good enough at it to become a much better listener. Which, to the rest of the world, makes you a whole lot more interesting to have around.

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  You’re Welcome

  The Power of Compliments

  Need-to-Knows

  • Compliments given to others aren’t insults to you.

  • Being able to give sincere compliments is the surest way to receive them.

  • Specific compliments are the strongest.

  • Graciously accept compliments with a simple smile and “thank you.”

  Asperkid Logic

  I remember very clearly that my date had taken me roller skating that night. It was kind of a funny (and fun) thing to do, as I was nineteen and the average age of the kids around us was probably twelve. Anyway, we went inside where the spinning lights wound in circles and the music was cranked up. The clerk behind the counter, a very pretty girl close to my age, walked over to take our money.

  “You have the prettiest eyeshadow,” I said. And she did. The colors were soft and nicely blended—and as a girl, I knew full-well that this was not an easy skill to master. She looked at me for a minute, almost suspicious. Then, seeing my genuine grin, returned the smile. “Thank you very much,” she said, obviously pleased. “I just bought these colors.” “Well, they look great,” I finished, and began to walk away with my date to put on our skates.

  As we laced up, he looked at me, obviously impressed. “That was pretty amazing,” he said. I hadn’t the faintest clue what he meant. “You complimented her—and you meant it. You weren’t just flattering her, you were saying something really nice.” I shrugged and smiled, “No big deal. I was just being honest.”

  The big deal, I learned, is that women and girls rarely give one another genuine compliments. The thought seems to be that if I say something nice about you, either (1) I want something from you, or (2) I’m being false and catty. How ridiculous, I thought then. I still think that today.

  Compliments should be like little gifts. Apparently, it’s a lot more complicated than that, though. We Aspies—both guys and girls—add yet another layer. We tend to see a compliment given to someone else as a put-down to ourselves. It’s that “me as the reference-point for the world” thing again. Psychologists call it “ego centrism (self-centered thoughts).” It’s an Aspie Pitfall. And I promise—it is a one-way ticket to sorrow and loneliness. As a favorite T-shirt I’ve seen says, “It really ISN’T all about me.”

  Compliments given to others are not insults to you in disguise.

  If your teacher compliments another student’s poetry, she doesn’t mean yours is bad. This is not the time to say, “Oh, but come look at mine!” You’d create a competition where none existed, and look like a sore loser. Or if a coach said, “nice hustle” to someone else on the team, you wouldn’t pipe up with a whiny, “I ran fast, too!” No one said you were a slowpoke.

  Not being able to handle praise for someone else is our own insecurity talking. And it’s not particularly attractive to be around. We have to have room in our minds for other people to have talents and abilities without feeling threatened that we, suddenly, are worthless. Or at least worth less.

  Please know—as an Aspie myself—blending in isn’t just hard for us, sometimes it can feel like the last thing on earth we’d want to do. Learning to be content as a member of a group, rather than always exceptional, is a risk. Will we even matter to anyone anymore?

  The answer is yes, we do, and you will…more than ever. Look, every person has unique gifts to offer this world. That’s not by accident. If every one of us were the best artist in class, who would sing on Broadway? If every scientist were the best chemist, who would study the stars? We Aspies often try to make ourselves stand out because we think blending in means disappearing. And that’s terrifying! Wanting to feel important is probably one of the greatest forces in all the world. So, shy Aspies fade into the background, bolder Aspies seek attention and admiration to the extreme. But believe me, giving (or at least tolerating) praise to others does nothing to diminish your importance. In fact, it makes folks more likely to compliment you. Remember the Golden Rule? Do unto others…

  The famous writer Ralph Waldo Emerson said that, “Every man I meet is in some way my superior. In that, I learn from him.” He didn’t say, “I feel threatened by him.” Or, I have to measure up to him. No, he said to sincerely look at what it is that every person can teach you. Look back—what was my date’s reaction when I complimented another pretty girl? Did he suddenly look at my eyeshadow and think, “Her make-up isn’t as nice?” Did he ditch me for the check-out girl? Hardly. He was impressed that I could appreciate someone else’s gifts without feeling that my own were being challenged. Your warm words about or to another person will not diminish you; just the opposite. You will shine with confidence and kindness.

  Compliments are like smiles—the more you give, the more you get.

  How to Give a Good Compliment

  Figuring out how to give a decent compliment seems pretty obvious. It’s not, though. Flattery is easy—but not very sincere. And general compliments aren’t too powerful.

  Step 1: Be specific

  “That dress looks really nice on you” is a lot stronger than “You look nice.” “That was a really interesting question you asked in history today” is much better than “Good class today.” The more specific you are about what you admire, the more you are showing that you are paying attention.

  Step 2: Back it up

  Give the “why?” to what you started. Why does that dress look nice? “That dress looks really nice on you because the color matches your eyes.” Why was the question interesting? “That was a really interesting question you asked in history class because you brought up a point I’d never even considered.”

  Step 3: Keep it going

  Compliments can be really great conversation starters. Just ask a question about the subject of the compliment to keep the talk going forward. For example, you’ve admired someone’s Lego masterpiece. “Where did you find that set? I’ve never seen it before!” Or, in the case of the history question, “Have you read much about Churchill (or whatever the topic was)?”

  You’re Welcome

  A sincere compliment is always a welcome lift to someone’s day. Don’t take away from that boost by challenging it, or being threatened by it. You have your own unique talents to offer, even if you’re still in the process of discovering them (goodness knows, I am!). Give compliments—honestly and often. There will be people that reject them or even argue with you, but that’s their problem, not yours. And when the compliments come your way (which they will), accept them graciously without fuss or fanfare. Smile, say “Thank you,” and be proud of the praise you’ve earned.

 
Quotealicious

  - 11 -

  Broken Spaghetti

  The Benefits of Thinking Like a Wet Noodle

  Need-to-Knows

  • Leaders listen to others’ ideas and respect them. Their minds are “flexible,” like wet spaghetti.

  • Being a rigid thinker (“my way is the only right way”) is like being uncooked spaghetti. You break (or break down) when you’re asked to change.

  • Change is the only thing that is certain.

  • If we can only handle the world as we expect it to be, we are going to snap, just like uncooked spaghetti.

  Asperkid Logic

  We already know that our Asper-thinking can be a little bit rigid. All or nothing. My way or the highway. Black or white. There’s not a lot of room for “fuzzy” gray areas. You take this road, not another, to get where you need to go because it’s the most efficient—no arguing. You buy pizza from one particular pizza joint because it’s the best—no arguing. I’m going to be Batman, you be the Joker—because I said so. I’m being the teacher and you be the student; now do what I say. I’m not being bossy, I’m just right. After all, everyone’s entitled to my opinion.

  Yeah, I think you get the idea. It’s a weird thing. We feel more comfortable being in charge so we can tell others how things really ought to go (with the best of intentions!), yet our managerial skills (that is, how well we encourage and lead others) are a bit of a weak point.

  In almost every small group I can remember—high school Key Club (civics), my sorority, tennis, cheerleading, even my kids’ preschool parent-teacher association!—I was vocal, logical and passionate. I knew a lot. And usually, at least at first, I was asked to be a leader. But then, kablooey. My less-than-fabulous people skills would show through and suddenly, I’d crash and burn. Apparently, being a good teacher (AKA “instructor” who shows everyone what to do and why) is very different from being a good leader (inspiring collaboration and enthusiastic teamwork).

  It took me a while to figure out the disconnect, I have to admit. If I knew the most about something and was the most into it, shouldn’t I also be in charge? Not for my own good, but for the good of…well, whatever the cause might be. Nope.

  Aspie News Flash: Good leaders are not always the people who have collected the most facts or put in the most time; they don’t waste time showing why they are right. The best leaders can listen to others’ ideas, respect and include them, and never ever say, “You’re wrong.”

  In short, they are wet noodles. Wait. Doesn’t being a wet noodle mean you’re a wimp or pushover or something like that? Well, yes, in some cases, that’s true. But for our purposes, it means a being flexible thinker. You’ll see.

  Aspies’ thinking is, as I said, usually a tad rigid. We don’t mean to be bossy, we’re just sure that we are right. That is our most natural thinking style—and it has definite advantages. Shutting out the details and stress of endless options is calming—like shutting out bothersome “noise.” It’s easier, for example, to choose one position: for or against, yes or no. Answering either “A” or “B” is faster. It’s more efficient. It’s less tiring!

  But it doesn’t guarantee we’ll find the best—or only—solution.

  Rigid thinking is what I mean by “being uncooked spaghetti” (or uncooked noodles by any other name). Go to your kitchen and grab some—just look at it. Rigid, straight and narrow. Bend it too far out of shape and SNAP! It breaks. Bend us too far and SNAP! We break down.

  The alternative is the wet noodle. It’s stretchier, bendier, and all around more adaptable. Flexible thinkers—the cooked spaghetti folks—are more able than we are to adapt to changes in routine, invent solutions to new problems, and change their goals as possibilities change. In other words, no breakdowns. They twist and turn, but stay whole.

  The Only Constant in the World

  When you’re young, everything feels like it takes forever. The line at the grocery store. Waiting for your driver’s license. It’s hard to see how fast everything changes. But it does change. Actually, change is the only constant in life. Friends move. We graduate and move to new schools. Pets pass away. No matter how hard we try to keep things the same, we can’t. My dad died four years ago. Nothing I can do will bring him back. In college, every day I had dinner with the same bunch of girls at the same table at the same time. They were my “sisters,” and still are precious to me. But now, I live hours away from them and haven’t seen most of them in a decade. My kids—whom I love more than life—grow up a little more each day. There’s a quote I saw, though, that makes it all OK. “Don’t cry because it’s over,” some unknown person said. “Smile because it happened.” Every change is just part of your still-unfolding life story.

  The world is messy. It’s unpredictable, and it is sometimes unfair. And that can be terrifying, I know. No matter how many routines, calendars, visual schedules or plans we make, life will certainly be uncertain. And if we rigid thinkers can only handle understanding the world as we expect it, we are going to snap, too. So there’s one more change that has to happen: we have to become wet noodles. Or at least pasta al dente. Keep reading—cooking lessons ahead.

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  Boiling the Pasta

  How to Make that Flexible Thinking Thing Happen

  Need-to-Knows

  • “Small group work” is a lifelong experience—it doesn’t end after school does.

  • How you say something is as important as what you say.

  • Different doesn’t mean wrong. There is usually more than one way to solve a problem well.

  • Everyone feels that he or she is the most important, most interesting person in the world.

  • Don’t always say what you want to say or what you are feeling. Ask yourself what the other person might be feeling. And respond to that.

  Asperkid Logic

  Small group work was my least favorite thing to do in school. It always seemed that one member (or more) did almost nothing, while others toed the line. And then there was the whole problem of knowing what to do and how to do it—but not wanting to be called bossy or a know-it-all.

  Couldn’t I just please do this on my own?

  Nope. Not then, and not later, either. I hate to tell you this, but small group work doesn’t end when you graduate from middle school or high school. It’s everywhere. It’s almost always. Yes, you can choose sports—like martial arts—that let you operate on your own. Yes, you can choose a career—like being an author—where you get to think and work on your own a lot. But black-belts need to practice with sparring partners, and authors need to listen to their editors. University labs depend on research teams. Governments spend money and pass laws based on committee work. Juries decide whether a man goes free. Marriages are teams. So are families. Small group work is forever.

  So, what do you do? How on earth can we Aspies collaborate more successfully? It all comes down to an old Aretha Franklin song: R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

  Playing Well with Others

  Showing respect for other people’s opinions is not the same thing as agreeing with them. It just means that you accept their right to believe and be who and what they want to without your judgment. After all, we certainly don’t like it when NTs judge us as being “weird” or “abnormal.” We have to extend them the same courtesy. That’s respect.

  Being Uncooked Spaghetti: The Don’ts

  If you’re ready to try the flexible thinking thing, let’s start with the stuff to avoid—and why:

  • Never, ever tell someone that he is wrong (that includes using other words that mean the same thing, like: “That’s not right,” or “Never…” or “How could you possibly think that…” etc.). He might be wrong and you may be right—but that’s not the issue here. Your goal isn’t to be right—it’s to work together efficiently and effectively. If we say someone is wrong or dumb or otherwise insult a team member, we wound his pride. We embarrass him. Or frustrate him. Or both. And once we’ve hurt his feelings, no amount of logic or fac
ts will win him over. Classmates don’t want to work with us or pick us for teams. Teachers are irritated. Friends (or even people you may want to date) choose to hang out with other people.

  • Be careful. Without realizing it, you can send the message, “You’re wrong,” in other ways, too. Your body and your voice have to show you are willing to at least respect other people’s ideas. That means no eye rolling, no annoyed sighs. No yelling or walking away. No quitting. Those are all ways of trashing people. Of sending the message, “You are such an idiot!” or “I am so much better than you are,” or “I don’t care about what you are saying.” No matter how frustrated, angry, bored or annoyed you are, no matter how wrong you believe someone to be, that kind of reaction is completely and totally beneath us.

  Being Uncooked Spaghetti: The Dos

  • Remember: the other person may be totally, completely and absolutely wrong in his facts, his reasoning, his approach, everything. But he doesn’t think he’s wrong. Which is why any time you put into pointing out his faults is wasted time. To convince anyone of most anything, you have to figure out why he thinks and behaves as he does. You have to get inside his head—and that starts by listening.