Rewriting the Rules: An Autistic Mind and School System at war
Autonomy meets Institutional Compliance
A classroom built for you, not me
Let me start by saying this is my story. It is not the typical autistic kid journey but reflection has made me write this from a new perspective. The inflection point came at fourteen, with the crazy experience of a neurodivergent mind squaring off against a neurotypical school system. A complete misalignment of internal drivers, leading to a devastating collision for everyone.
Childhood is mainly a blur. An active undiagnosed ADHD kid who used football to burn energy but never recognised its importance. To an outsider my derailment begins in secondary school. In truth my developing mind was understanding everyone had certain thought patterns and my lens was different. Unpacking what “processing the world differently” looks like, I will peel back the autistic mind. Only then can the differences truly become visible and you can understand what followed.
This is an analytical mind built on systems and logic. To the external viewer it sounds cold and calculated. Yet this is where the autistic mind and that of a sociopath oppose greatly. One wants to manipulate and destroy, the other is laser-focused on their interests. One would happily tear society apart, the other cannot understand social norms that lack logic. The difference in intention is everything.
Your internal wiring is rooted in emotions and social nuance. Mine while still feeling, is analytical and logically focused. When people reveal clear data points about themselves, this is automatically cross referenced, building a map. A strong inbuilt mind for pattern recognition recognises the consistencies and contradictions, leading to a deeper understanding of an individual.
This configuration is a compensation which has been adapted, not a choice. Mass processing power just to have an emotional antenna. Ultimately it stems from an inability to feel what other people feel through conversation, a natural process in your world. Unable to access another persons emotional response to my logical actions.
With age mental bandwidth reduces. Now the workaround systems I relied on begin to creak as expectations exceed capacity. A regular person in my life has a baseline, strangers are a mystery. Consequently meeting a new individual who dives into small talk is now a taxing event for my mind. For you it is a casual conversation on auto.
Meeting someone new amongst friends, is a different experience, an analysis. Before the hello they reveal a key data point. Confidently discussing depression is completely out of sync with this group. This instantly tells me this person is open and comfortable being emotionally vulnerable in public. They are self aware and deserve respect. Now I am saying hello with warmth, not just hello. While you heard the same information in that scenario, you will not micro analyse information like that in real time and simply say hello.
Put any two adults together in a room that have never met and see how long it takes them to talk about their jobs. It is a social way for you to peel back a layer, to help understand them. The difference with my operating system is a job is not an accurate data point, an insight into your mind is. You are wired to look for social and emotional cues. Clear definable data points are my guide.
By thirteen my mind was analysing the lives we were being conditioned to seek. Namely the structures, the discipline, the output and the reward. A school system designed with compliance the chief goal, outside education. When the core principles are misaligned, the rules become illogical in my world. There is now a direct conflict of interest and a sovereign state trying to exist within a school system.
At fourteen school became a war zone, so my mind adjusted to neutralise the threat. The undiagnosed autistic kid with ADHD versus a staff room of adults. My days of learning English and Maths were over. Sustained attempts to force obedience meant I needed to be strategic, as I was vastly outnumbered.
This is where very few autistic kids would go. Adamant I lived by my rules, I would leverage my mind to outmanoeuvre theirs. My talent is looking at a system, examine the basic components, recognise the mechanisms that join the components and make adjustments. This meant I could devise strategy precisely. Subsequently psychology would be used to hammer my point home.
There were a few realisations looking at the school system. While on the defensive, I would execute psychological counter punches that would be unnerving. After understanding the mechanics, I could now readjust the mechanism and turn the teachers rules and bureaucracy against them. Flipping the script meant exposing their biggest fear, a threat to their jobs. In my naive child like mind, once they had no disciplinary weapons, I would be left alone. My autonomy, my rules.
Their own regulation forced them to stay within limits. My now fully functional war mindset recognised this vulnerability. Essentially when any of them stepped outside their authority, the consequences would be spelled out. I ran the mental simulations, understood the appropriate responses, which would act as a deterrent. The scripts for the important moments, like when they put hands on me, were going to be checkmate moves. A teenage boy should not know teachers would get physical.
Another revelation was the teachers power only goes as far as you acknowledge it. If you do not acknowledge the rules, they do not exist. Hence the illusion of authority is shattered, a teachers worst nightmare. My strategy was not to defy the rules, I was going to rewrite them. These are my rules instead.
This approach would create shock and confusion but the strategies were simple. The teachers hostile environment would now transform into a psychological battlefield. Naturally the more they referred to their rulebook, the more they were stunned by the precision of the response. My scripts were working and disarmament began.
Initially I demanded expulsion after reaching the required three detentions. When they refused, I said: "Forget detention ever again, your system is a farce." With one stroke, expulsion, suspension, and detention were out.
The strategy with phone calls home was simple but brutal. Essentially my autistic mind saw involving family as a grave injustice. Simply make their next class unteachable to demonstrate I could take control away. My finale involved calmly walking up to the teacher in front of the class. Then execute my script,
“If you ever pull a stunt like calling my parents again, this will be every day. There will be no more class.”
Some would say, “How dare you speak to me like that.” The script always knew the response,
“Your call.”
And a walk out of the class to dismiss their authority. The phone calls stopped. Their rule had been rewritten by my rule.
Now all the major deterrents at their disposal were wiped out and an unintentional panic started to set in their ranks. There were respectful relations with a few teachers who treated me with dignity, not an individual to beat into submission. Some tried to offer advice but this young mind could only relate to students, not teachers. Obviously I knew I was different. It just did not follow suit I could understand how.
My teenage brain could not see the psychological game I was playing was scarring individuals on the receiving end. A man can see what a boy cannot. The coldness of the crippling responses and the total immunity to discipline looked like the work of a sociopath. In reality we were playing a different game and I was always calculating ahead.
They saw a kid who was not just being defiant but was challenging the whole system. Any attempts at discipline were just mocked with calls for expulsion. Their own compliance system which they relied on to govern was being exposed as weak. Now teachers were starting to crack, as the stress of a two year psychological war they could not understand, took its toll. My scars would show up later in a different way.
An arrogant teacher could not see his ego would be his downfall but I certainly could. Rightfully he was determined not to be outwitted by a five foot kid and tried a few tactics like shame, which were quickly returned with interest as a laughing class looked on. When he started saying “you do not bother me,” my mental scripts were tuned for delivery.
What he did was shocking, pinning a small kid up against a gym hall with a fist drawn. He knew immediately it was career suicide, in front of a stunned class. In provoking an explosion, trauma would be my cost. My focus was solely on delivering the script, trying to keep my composure. I can still picture it today,
“If you even look at me the wrong way again, your job is gone. I could get you fired anytime for this.”
He walked away with his head and shoulders slumped. The kid he hated had triggered him and now held a gun to his head. My body was shaking as I retreated, shocked by the level of his aggression. My logical mind had already calculated that the dangling threat would neutralize him.
Only through distant reflection can I truly understand the damage caused by my approach. An instance where my logical action was blind to his emotional response. When we saw each other years later, he looked terrified. In my world the war was long over so his reaction surprised me.
A nun with a fearsome reputation, the vice principal, was also dismantled in a power move that would haunt her. She still asks about me, trying to solve the puzzle. She cannot get closure from the kid who refused to acknowledge her power and ultimately treated her as irrelevant.
One morning she decided to ambush me at school. Her fatal flaw was not telling the truth. Upon trying to claim that two parents had rung the school about my behaviour, my bullshit detector rang loud. She had caught herself in a lie and now her words meant nothing. The precise nature of our engagement baffled her,
“There was only one call, so you are trying to cover for someone obvious. I now know who that is because of your lie.”
I named the culprit and her discomfort was clear. She tried denial but the game was up.
“Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I will go deal with him now,”
marching out of her office, ignoring her fading pleas.
No part of my strategy ever involved students and I never said a word to him. Yet the treatment of her as no more than a messenger was deliberate. A woman who prided herself on fear was being stripped of power in a way she could not conceive. Somehow she had walked into her office to discipline me and inside a minute I walked out saying I will discipline him.
To an outsider my actions could be perceived as callous. Yet this war had been raging for over two years. There was now a deep resentment on both sides. Lasting consequences were invisible to a teenager at war with a system, not recognising the worth of the individual pieces. My focus was to control my emotions, then strategically unbalance theirs. If they then raised their voice, I walked away. The power dynamics had shifted in my favour.
That nun tried to reassume dominance one last time, a desperate attempt to reaffirm control. It was shattered by my response,
“You are only annoyed because you did not get your job in the new school. And here you are still trying to exert control. Its pathetic.”
She could only mutter, “just leave,” in front of my stunned friends. She had more than met her match in my mind. The student who had shattered her illusion of control. Now humiliated in her office and in front of students.
The exact moment this war ended was both unexpected and off script. When a teacher took my jacket, they collectively refused to return it, much to my annoyance. I realised they were trying to hold on to their last semblance of control. This time there would be no script, as my sense of injustice took over. I marched into their staff office, their territory, their sanctuary.
What happened next left me astonished. A room of a dozen adults, full of chatter as I entered, fell into complete silence. All eyes locked on me. After aggressively pulling my jacket off the rail, my attention turned to the group. Another abuse of power was being exposed,
“Never, ever try something like this again.”
They were all frozen solid as I walked out. My mind had been so focused on disarming the individuals, it never occurred to me that collective terror had taken over the group. This had never been my intention. Somehow I was this five foot giant to them. Simplicity meant their system became my blueprint. What hurt them further was the aftermath of my exit. The teachers would be taunted with,
“James is coming back, he definitely is!”
And when a teacher would be forced to respond, the class would laugh. This autistic kid just wanted peace, not rules. Support, not discipline.
Over twenty years later former teachers cannot hide their disgust when our paths occasionally cross. This misunderstanding of two different mindsets colliding persists but no longer from my side. There were no winners in this war, just my survival instinct taking over.
What remains is a deep distrust of authority. A hyper vigilant mind which no longer understands peace. The reality is the war is long over. Yet trauma keeps the memories crystal clear. School weaponised my mind, instead of unwrapping it. My journey navigating a classroom built for you, not me.