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Case study 26: Jamie's story

Context
This case study is a mother's account of her son Jamie's development and experience of school. Jamie, now 15, was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome when he was five and a half.

Pre-school
'Jamie was a somewhat remarkable baby, toddler and child, having powers of concentration and focus beyond those expected for his age. As a baby, he loved books and puzzles and could play with one toy or object for a prolonged period without losing interest. A favourite was a brightly coloured jigsaw spelling his name, each piece representing one letter. He would happily sit with me and play with the jigsaw for 20 to 30 minutes at a time when only eight or nine months old, manipulating and tipping out the pieces. One day, when playing with him, I said, 'lets get the s', and he reached out for the correct letter. I tried each of the other letters in order and then at random and discovered that he could recognise each letter instantly. He was then nine months old and had not yet spoken his first word. Over the next few weeks I quickly realised that his ability to recognise numbers and letters, from books and friezes on the wall of his room, was phenomenal.

'I encouraged him to build on his skill by reading aloud to him. He also had number and letter toys -- those little number and letter fridge magnets, for instance. By the time Jamie was two years old, he could attempt to read virtually anything in print. Being wheeled along in his pushchair, he would read everything and anything -- British Telecom, Barclays Bank, headlines from newspapers, advertising slogans. He spelled out words -- names of tube stations, names of colours -- with his magnetic letters.

'Most surprising though were his skills in handling numbers. Aged two, he would read door numbers on houses, supplying the missing numbers in an odd or even sequence where there wasn't a number to read. He noticed numbers on everything -- doors, buses, trains, road signs and on other objects, where the less observant would never see them, such as plastic cutlery. He loved playing snakes and ladders. But there was no competitive edge to the games. He only played for the love of numbers. He had several snakes and ladders boards and would line them up to play games that went up to 400 or 500. He would play with six or seven dice at a time, adding up the amounts thrown and often moving to the correct square on the board(s) directly, without counting. He was able to add and multiply the amounts in his head at speed. I struggled to keep up at times. He was numbers obsessed -- I even called him a 'numbers bore'. When he was three, I bought him a times tables musical tape that went as far as ten times tables. He worked the rest out for himself and could instantly tell me the answer to 17 x 6 or the like, if asked, without a glimmer of doubt or hesitation.

'However, during this time, Jamie displayed behaviour when relating to others that worried me. I would have 'grim feelings' when observing him with other children and adults. These began when Jamie was about 18-months-old. It was always hard to define exactly what was wrong, but Jamie had a general air of detachment from those around him, even when he appeared to be joining in.

'Once we met a neighbour on the stairs of our block of flats. Jamie was sitting in his pushchair and the neighbour bent down to say hello and make a fuss of him. Jamie seemed to stare right through him as if he wasn't there and wouldn't give any response at all. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed these characteristics. I called in the health visitor. On the day she visited, Jamie was responsiveness itself. I was told I had a very bright and gifted child and not to worry so much.

'A year or so later, I remained unconvinced that my 'worries' were unfounded. I remember watching Jamie run up and down with a group of children at a wedding reception. But he wasn't really 'with' them at all. There was something mechanical in what he was doing. He was doing it for himself, not to be one of the crowd or enjoy the company of others.

'Being one of the crowd didn't matter to Jamie. At a children's party, aged four, he was happy to be uninvolved with the activities that the other children were taking part in. I had to prompt and almost nag him to join in. This wasn't unusual. He was also making life a misery, with difficult behaviour in public and at home. Jamie didn't respond to encouragements for good behaviour and seemed not really to understand why he had been punished for bad behaviour. I called in the health visitor and, on this occasion, though she did not actually see Jamie, she referred me to the school medical officer. Jamie was about to start school at this time.'

Primary school
'Jamie arrived in the school playground, reading fluently, able to add, subtract, multiply and divide, and with a head crammed full of facts and figures about dinosaurs, the solar system and flags of the world. His opening gambit to a fellow reception classmate was to tell her how many miles Jupiter was from the sun. But Jamie was unable to sit on the mat with the other children and listen attentively to the teacher's afternoon story. He couldn't stand in a line with his classmates to file into assembly. Once in assembly, he couldn't focus on the headmaster's address without shouting out at inappropriate moments. He would cry inconsolably if rain at break time changed his day-to-day routine -- why did they have to stay in? Wasn't it eleven and time to go into the playground?

'Jamie was displaying classic signs of his autistic spectrum disorder, but was not yet diagnosed. However, in year 1, he was also joining year 5s for maths and learning about binary numbers. When he arrived at school, Jamie was seen straight away by the educational psychologist. She was fascinated by him and liked his straightforward, no nonsense way. He had no hesitation in telling her at the start of a test, that he could only spare ten minutes until playtime. He had an IQ of 144 and a reading age of 17, she told me later when we met for a long conversation after his assessment. She referred him to a developmental paediatrician, who seven months later, diagnosed his condition.

'A support assistant at the school had some spare hours, which were allocated to Jamie, even though he was not yet statemented. This helped enormously and meant Jamie could work at his intellectual level with some one-to-one tuition.

'Just before his statement was approved, the assistant had to reallocate her hours, leaving Jamie unsupported. The next few weeks were unbearable. Every day I collected Jamie from school, a new tale of woe awaited me. He had become frustrated and scratched another child in the face; he had spat on the floor in PE because another child bumped into him; he had pushed someone off a chair, which he thought was his. Jamie would even tell me himself about how he'd been sent to the headmaster, but with no trace of emotion or guilt. It was as if he didn't understand right from wrong or, at least, he had no understanding of what he was doing wrong or what was right.

'The headteacher began to make noises about a place for him in the school's EBD unit. The educational psychologist was against this as a worrying precedent for a child of Jamie's diagnosis (which he had by then) and also of his ability and potential. With her and the support assistant's help, I had to make a case to keep Jamie out of the unit. Thankfully, it didn't come to that, and when Jamie was statemented, he received five hours per week classroom support. The school was able to deploy the hours of support -- which increased eventually to ten -- to advantage by providing one-to-one tuition in some curriculum areas, such as maths, and by helping him to improve his social skills and behaviour.

'Throughout his time at primary school, Jamie remained streets ahead of his classmates in maths and reading ability. However, from his somewhat prodigious beginnings, he slowed down enormously. By the time he left primary school, he would refuse to even have a go at mental maths that, at the age of 4, he would have solved in a flash. Why was this?

'I think there are two reasons for this loss of ability. First, Jamie was obsessed with numbers when he began school and thought about numbers and numerical data all the time. He would come into the kitchen at home and tell me in a matter of fact way that as 8 x 7 = 56 then 4 x 14 must equal 56, without waiting for me to tell him he was right or give him any praise. As he progressed through school, he was suddenly asked to show how he had arrived at solutions, to show workings-out and calculations leading to the final answer. He found this very hard to do -- a lot of his ability was intuitive perhaps? After much persuasion and nagging, he obeyed and showed workings and process -- though even to this day, I suspect Jamie can't really understand why anyone else should need to know how he arrived at an answer.

'The second reason for his slowing down could be that Jamie needed to broaden his horizons in order to survive at school. He lost his obsession with numbers -- though not entirely -- which gave way to other preoccupations and obsessions, including some that helped him form relationships with his classmates -- Pogs, Premier League stickers, Man Utd. Also, Jamie had a lot to learn about how to behave and make sense of life, in a way that other children assimilate intuitively, by osmosis.'

Secondary school
'Jamie gained a place at a selective grammar school for boys. His support assistant from primary school was going to go with him, but at the last moment, the head of year decided a fresh start would be best for Jamie. I had reservations about this and about other new things, such as rugby. The school had never had a statemented student before. It had never dealt with classroom assistants and annual reviews. This had its pros and cons. The school was open to ideas and willing to accommodate Jamie's idiosyncrasies. It was sure that previous students had shown signs of, or had, AS. It was prepared to look positively at Jamie's difficulties and do what it could to help him achieve his potential.

'The disadvantage was the lack of any existing support structures. Also there are occasional lapses in thinking through the consequences of just treating Jamie in the same way as other boys. Jamie is still liable to outbursts of frustration, though these are fewer than in his primary years, and he needs emotional support. For example, warning in advance when he's about to receive a bad grade on his report or be asked to compete in a sports day event.

'The school has on the whole been a good choice for Jamie. It is a relatively small and calm place, with only 700 boys. He has made friends and has been able to develop interests -- especially in music. His approach is a little unconventional -- he hasn't taken graded exams, for instance -- but he is very creative and has played his own compositions at school concerts.

'What about Jamie's mathematical skills? In year 7, his maths work took a nosedive. He had a teacher he didn't like and who, at open evening, told me she could see no real mathematical ability in him. The following year he was placed in the bottom set. I was disappointed and perplexed. What had happened to the three-year-old kid with six dice and four snakes and ladders boards who could add up and multiply in seconds? And the year 1 learning binary number systems with a year 5 group? However, being in the bottom set was Jamie's road to recovery. He has a teacher who accepted him as he was and somehow got the best out of him. He recognises Jamie's tendency to go his own way and choose idiosyncratic methods. Since then, his maths has improved, Jamie is happy in class and achieving good results. He was top of his set in the year 10 exams but will stay in his set with the same teacher and working at the same pace.

'With hindsight, I think a fresh start at secondary school was good for Jamie. He has had the same support assistant through years 7 to 10 and, contrary to my expectations, survived rugby.'

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