Calc 2

In 2012, I didn’t know I had autism. I didn’t really understand my ADHD. If you’d asked me at the time, I would’ve said I was still dealing with my mother’s death from 4 years earlier. I had no idea that my dad was continuing to emotionally abuse me. The fact that I had PTSD couldn’t have been further from being discovered. I had never tried SSRIs, let alone weed. I didn’t even know I had any mental health issues whatsoever. I lived for the weekends, when I would get drunk and laugh with my girlfriend. Saturday and Sunday were oases that motivated me to keep crawling through the grit and heat of weekdays in my small singles dorm room at my university.

My Calculus 2 professor was woman so old, she used the PA system wired into the walls of the classroom. If she hadn’t, the people in the back wouldn’t have been able to hear her speak. She was about the height of a mailbox, and looked like she weighed about as much as a couple of bowling balls. I wasn’t foolish enough to ask her age, but she couldn’t have been younger than 70.

She was passionate about her subject and her job. But, when she would raise her voice, it would come out through the PA system. One day, she kicked out two girls who were chatting. She went over to their desks, gathered their belongings in her arms, and lead them out the door. You may be asking yourself, “How does a 5-foot, 100-pound, 80-year-old math professor kick two college girls out of her class?” The answer really is quite simple. It’s easy to do, really. All it takes is being terrifying.

I didn’t go to class for weeks after that. It might’ve even been months. I hated myself for not going, and I knew what I was doing was setting myself up for failure, but I couldn’t help myself. No matter what I did, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to go back. Every time I tried, her furious voice would ring in my ears, and I would shrink away from the thought. Those mornings, I didn’t even leave my room. I would eat handfuls of peanut M&Ms and pretend not to be in if friends knocked on my door.

At the end of the semester, with exams approaching, I panicked. I flew into a storm of studying.

I got a B in the class.

Tags: autism