How does one became influenced to become a writer? What the author was exposed to in his youth as he struggled with a learning disorder fueled his urge to overcome the limitations placed on him by a society that did not understand.
Problems With Learning During My Youth:
I was born in Alton, Illinois in 1951. Growing up I tended to be inattentive in school -- I was very much the “class clown.” I was highly disruptive, constantly sent home with notes explaining to my perplexed parent as to why this course of action was taken. They all strongly implied to my parents that their son was not “normal.”
It was in elementary and junior high school that I became infected by the occurrences of actual historic events. I had read in old “Time” magazines that in 1957 Sputnik 1 had been launched into orbit. That event fired my imagination. I became an avid reader of all things scientific as the twentieth century unfolded. Then came my exposure to television. During my youth the Russians had launched Yuri Gagarin in 1961. Alan Shepard’s televised black and white Mercury/Redstone rocket launch quickly followed. In 1963 Valentina Tereshkova became the first woman to venture into space!
That historic event was quickly followed by the flights of Gus Grissom, Scott Carpenter, Alan Shepard and the iconic John Glenn, whom had become the first American to orbit the Earth. Heady stuff for a hyperactive child that disliked schooling. My condition was not diagnosed until I was in my forties. I totally surprised that I was suffering from a condition that had gone totally unrecognized during my youth.
Early Influences:
Nothing came easy to me -- especially mathematics, or exposure to mundane scholastic milestones that other students seemed to easily master. As a child I was an a voracious reader of the written word. So, with that being said, I found escape in the reading of all manner of printed science fiction materials and comics. I was very much intent on reading events that would occur in the future.
As I matured television exposed my mind to historic firsts by America in space. Apollo 8 circled the moon in 1968, Apollo 11 actually landed on its surface in 1969. I lost a lot of sleep as I followed the drama in real time that was Apollo 13 as it limped home after suffering an oxygen tank explosion half way to the moon in 1970.
Transition -- More Issues With Adjusting To “Changes”:
In time I had reached the end of my formative years. Graduating (barely) from Alton High School in 1971 at the age of 19 I felt the strong urge to leave the town of my birth. I enlisted into the Air Force in late 1971. It was hard, an entirely different world than what I had left. I had to learn new things -- quickly. It was hard, but I persevered. It was there after Basic Training that I was designated a USAF Security Police Specialist.
After struggling through the intense Training School I was assigned for duty to the 443rd Security Police Squadron at Altus AFB in early 1972. I made friends with my Non-Commission Officer-In-Charge. Under his guidance I was nominated for Squadron Airman of the Month. I won that honor over three higher ranking SP candidates. I felt really proud and honored that I was chosen. Most tours of duty lasted one to two year. Not mine.
I was assigned for duty to the 13th Missile Warning Squadron at Clear AFS -- a Cold War Ballistic Early Warning Site located near the Arctic Circle six months later. This was considered to be “remote duty” in the 1970’s. I spent a year there. However, that adventure proved to be even more stressful than the pursuit of Civilian academics. While there I became very acquainted with the legal construct called “Non-Judicial Punishment.”
My impulsive nature and fits of anger caused me to be constantly “written up,” placed on report for minor infractions of the Air Force’s “rules.” Only the understanding and intervention of the Site Commander allowed me to state my case when I faced him for punishment. Our private conversation saved me from being reduced in pay grade. I was again nominated for Airman of the Month -- an award I won because the Department Head was on leave, and it was his Technical Sergeant who pushed this action.
Soon my tour in Alaska ended. I was assigned to the 62nd Security Police Squadron at McChord AFB. It was here that I once again ran afoul of The Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ). Once again I was written up from my inability to follow “the rules” of my Squadron. Frustrated at this constant harassment that was directed at me I changed my career field to Clerk Typist in the Administrative Air Force Specialty. This is when I learned to type, organize files and manage my anger over being treated so “unfairly” by my former squadron. I was re-assigned for duty to the 62nd Headquarters Squadron and was installed as a member of the Wing Race Relations/Human Relations Section.
The comparisons between these career paths stood in stark contrast to what I had experienced to date. I was now totally ignored by the Airmen and Non-Commission Officers whom I once considered to be my friends. Another shock was thrust upon me. The Clerk Typist career field was closed to retention to cross trained personnel. With no remedy to be had I left the USAF in late 1975, returning home to Alton as an E-4 Sergeant.
I once again became very anxious to leave the town of my childhood. In early 1976 I enlisted into the US Navy as an E-3 (non-rated Fireman) of the Engineering career field. It was while I was undergoing Other Service Veteran indoctrination that I realized I loved the rigid, socially stratified culture of the military.
However, my propensity to exhibit gross impulsivity continued to rear its head. I found learning “the rules” and language of the Navy difficult -- more so than the USAF. Floors became decks. Walls were called bulkheads, the roof was described as the overhead; but I learned this foreign language, I persevered. Upon completing indoctrination I was assigned to duty onboard the USS Sperry. I found this career rating distasteful. I succumbed to another bout of impulsiveness, changing ratings from Engineering to Administrative.
I worked out of the Personnel Office as a Non-rated Seaman. The sailors of this office were approachable and comforting. I enjoyed my assignment there. Eventually a decision was made to have me sent to YN (Yeoman) Class “A” School. This was more new ground for me to master. It was confusing, it was irrational -- but I persevered.
It was there that I improved my typing skills. Upon my return to Sperry I was assigned for duty in the Captain’s Office. I still had close friends in the Personnel Office. Unlike the USAF I found that the friendships I had formed with the “Snipes” (what all Machinist’s Mates were called) remained still, even after I was promoted to Yeoman Third Class in late 1977.
I once again ran afoul of the UCMJ -- just as I had in the Air Force. My impulsive nature kicked in once again as I once again changed career ratings to become an Engineer. I was sent to training as a Machinist’s Mate in early 1978. Upon completion of that course (barely) I was shifted from the YN rating into the world of the MM.
I was assigned for duty to the USS Fort Fisher. It was on this command that I once again ran afoul of the UCMJ. Only the intervention of Ship’s Captain spared me reduction in pay grade. I re-enlisted into the Navy in late 1978, and I received a substantial re-enlistment bonus and a choice of schools.
I chose the most exotic sounding course in the Machinist’s Mate career field: Cryogenic (O2N2) Plant Operator. This was a field that had its roots in nearly all of futurist writings I had absorbed growing up.
A Severe Academic Challenge Mastered:
In mid-1979 I was sent to attend Cryogenic Class “C” Producer Training. I was now in the realm of the rocket scientists! I was being trained to make Liquid Oxygen and Nitrogen from the very air I was breathing! While the class of candidates were being briefed on what would be required of us as students I began to lose hope of completing the course. I had no knowledge of physics, or math skills. It took me so long even to master the most simple of tasks.
That being said, the exposure to the Cryogenics course curriculum, and learning plant operations, became overwhelming. I began to suffer mild panic attacks. With the patient guidance and stern advice from mentors, I was performing all the dangerous operations parameters I had been assigned -- not perfectly, but safely. In time I finished this intensive course. I finished last in my class, but I had persevered to become a “qualified” high and low pressure Cryogenic Plant Operator. Now, I felt that my goal of retiring from the Navy was assured.
A Decision Is Made:
The next command I was sent was the Aircraft Carrier USS Constellation. I was assigned to the Forward O2N2 plant. I still looked forward to working in the Cryogenic Auxiliary Division (“A” Gang) of Constellation as a “fresh air Snipe.”
But that was not to be. Fate intervened as I was struck down while riding my moped home in 1982. That accident inflicted severe damage to my neck and lower back. These conditions were treated by the Navy -- thus I remained on active duty.
It was my displeasure with duty onboard the USS Kitty Hawk, coupled with yet another encounter with the UCMJ while on deployment to the Western Pacific in 1983, that ended with my reduction in rank from Machinist’s Mate First Class to Second. I was thrust out of “A” Gang, where I served as Leading Petty Officer, to the hell that was the Number One Engine Room. I refused to balk, or complain. I kept my anger in check, setting out to accomplish all those tasks assigned to me -- no matter how demeaning they were.
Profound Changes In Civilian Life:
The Navy proved to be a more “rigidly structured” than anything I had experienced. I decided to abort my pursuit of the Navy as a career in December 1984 at the age of 33. Approaching middle age I continually found myself in situations that were increasingly stressful as I attempted to re-adjust to Civilian life -- which proved to be as “highly stratified” as the military.
With the encouragement of counselors within the Department of Veterans Affairs and the California Department of Rehabilitation I began taking courses at Southwestern College in 1986. I studied Anthropology, the make-up of societal groupings and how they interacted with each other. The most important class I took was Logic, which I passed (barely), eventually earning the Associates of Arts (AA) degree in Social Studies. Another adult academic milestone mastered.
The Truth Is Disclosed -- Finally:
It was while I was recovering from a series of painful spinal surgeries in 1988 that I was once again thrust into the dreaded “academic environment” as I took on studies within the field of Social Work. I was now 41 years old. My concentration was ragged. I still suffered from panic attacks during my classes. The attacks were eventually diagnosed by Student Health Services as a mild form of anxiety disorder.
My “inability to focus” -- or perform Algebraic equations, were finally diagnosed by the counselors of the university’s Student Services: I was suffering from “Adult Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).” In the 1950’s to late 1970’s this malady was not even considered as a factor in determining why an otherwise bright child had difficulties sitting still, or functioning in an academic environment.
A follow on diagnosis by the Department of Veteran Affairs cited that I had incurred “Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD)” from my 1982 moped accident.
Now it dawned upon me why it took so long for me to learn even the simplest tasks I had been assigned to perform in elementary school, the military or college: I was afflicted by an undiagnosed learning disability.
Completing the academic requirements of this field I earned my BA in Social Work in 1993. The emotions I felt at that time was “I had conquered yet another higher education challenge!”-- and with very good grades. I entered the field of Social Service filled with great enthusiasm.
However, the career field was not a good fit for me. My diagnosed ADHD had become well known by the agencies that employed me. This knowledge also sabotaged my efforts to obtain a Master’s degree within their “highly stratified” world three years later.
I had become a victim of a form of ‘quiet’ discrimination within this Civilian career field. The parallels, when compared to my experiences growing up as a child, and when I left the military, were too stark to be ignored. So, after having my Civilian dreams sabotaged I left the Social Service career field.
I have now come to accept the fact that I have a learning disability, not some form of mental illness, coupled with a degenerative spinal condition. I still have bouts of impulsiveness, I still get angry from time to time; but now I fully understand why that is. I am proud that I completed my education at a level I had never believed I would experience. I had learned, in small increments, from all the avenues I had traveled. I was just unable to process information at the pace a “normal” person could. But when I did learn something, I could perform at a peak level.
The most important thing I have learned, however, is to never lose sight of your dreams -- no matter how insignificant those “normal” others may attempt to make you feel.
