Sensory Integration: Not About “Fixing” Anyone (Least of All Me!) – oh, and when coffee helps even if I kept losing the flask!
If there had been an award for “Most Likely to Be in Trouble for Simply Existing,” I would have won it several times over. Not because I was naughty (well, not always), but because school was a sensory obstacle course, and my carefully crafted survival strategies—logical, essential, and often quite ingenious—were, inexplicably, not appreciated by the teaching staff.
And yet, despite all the line-writing, occasional detentions, stern looks, and exasperated sighs from teachers, I turned out okay—so much so that years later, I found myself in OT school, sitting next to someone who had been in my Std 1 Class, and we both vividly remembered the moment we got punished for fixing a wobbly desk with folded paper wedges. (That’s what you get for demonstrating early problem-solving skills).
“Kathryn Alrick, a lady does not run on the stair.”
Ah, yes. The infamous staircase rule. Let me be clear: I was not running for the thrill of it. I was running because moving slowly up or down stairs felt unbearable— Running was simply efficient sensory regulation and provided much-needed proprioception and vestibular input. But did the teachers see it that way? Absolutely not.
Cue many, many reprimands, the most memorable being: “Kathryn Alrick, a lady does not run on the stair.” (Which, naturally, just made me want to run even more.)
The Shoes That Marked Me As Different
While other girls in primary school pranced around in adorable navy blue Mary Jane sandals, I had sturdy black “boys’ lace-ups”. Why? Because I needed extra ankle support—not that I understood that at the time. All I knew was that my shoes were not like everyone else’s, and at age 6 I desperately wanted to be able to change into my ‘inside sandals’ like everyone else on arriving at school.
Looking back, those lace-ups probably saved me from a lifetime of flat feet, sprained ankles, and unintended acrobatics. But at the time? Jealousy levels: extreme.
Sitting Still? Absolutely Not.
Ah, the high chemistry stools in the science labs—the true enemy of every hypermobile, sensory-seeking teen studying chemistry, physics, or biology. Sitting still was never going to happen. Instead:
- I wrapped my feet around the desk chair legs.
- I pulled them under the desk while riding onto the back legs of the stool like a slow rocking chair—why I love Virco Zuma’s and Ergo Ergo stools now!
- I used the empty desk-hinged seat in front of me to push-pull for the ultimate heavy muscle work.
Did this help me focus? Yes. ✅ Did my teachers appreciate it? No. ❌
The Heavy Bag & The Messy Locker of Doom
Carrying a ridiculously heavy school bag everywhere? A dream. It was like a portable weighted blanket, providing a sense of calm, control, and superior upper-body strength.
Unfortunately, my locker was a war zone. Things that mysteriously vanished into its depths included:
- Textbooks, maths sets, my calculator, spare hymn book, books (sometimes ones I had never seen before).
- A gym kit that may or may not have had sentience by the end of term.
- Various bits of uniform—jumper, cardigan (they are different!), blazer, belt, gymslip, hat.
- A flask. (Yes, a whole flask – which was bright yellow – meaning I needed another as coffee at school was essential for focus.)
On more than one occasion, I had to stand on stage in front of the entire school while the teacher publicly announced my latest lost item. I’d like to think this built character.
Lunch Choices That Confused Everyone
My meal choices were perfectly reasonable. Others disagreed.
- Pineapple on bread – because the sweet, tangy, chewy, slightly sharp combination just worked.
- Cheese and tangy chutney sandwiches made by my Gran, with grated cheese and chunky chutney bits.
- Very proper “English lady” cucumber sandwiches – but only if I could open them up, and spice it up, adding the acid salt & vinegar crisps for crunch at the last second (crisps added last minute because otherwise, they’d go soggy, and that was unacceptable).
Did people look at me strangely? Yes. Did I care? Not enough to stop.
Sport: The Unexpected Sensory Lifeline
Despite my school struggles, I thrived on movement—because finally, I was allowed to move without being told off.
- Swimming, diving, lifesaving, and synchronised swimming—water-provided tactile input (outdoor pools are cold at 7:00 am! ❄️), proprioception, vestibular input, and full-body regulation.
- Hockey in the winter (2-3x a week)—because charging across a field with a heavy stick in hand, with earth clogged studs was somehow acceptable, while fidgeting in class was not.
- Cycling to school—movement, rhythm, fresh air, and a much-needed sensory reset before sitting in lessons all day.
- Choir and orchestra—because even my voice and hands needed to move.
- Playing the drums and other percussion—the ultimate sensory-seeker instruments—with variety, novelty, and built-in movement – the only orchestra members who move and stand!
Writing, Red Pens, and the Desk Incident ✍️
Handwriting was another battle that continues today. It only improved when I figured out that if I wrote with a fibre-tip fine liner (extra feedback) over a ruler, I could use the feedback and control my pen in-hand better. ✏️
Unfortunately, this realisation came only after many, many pages were slashed with red pen and sent back for rewriting.
And then there was The Great Desk Incident. One day, in Std 1 group work about whales, my friend and I realised our split hexagonal table was wobbling and affecting our drawing accuracy. So we did what any logical problem-solvers and future OTs would do:
- We folded bits of paper, ducked under our desk, and wedged them under the legs to stabilise them.
- We did this entirely non-verbally, communicating in silent OT telepathy.
- We were immediately and severely punished for “talking under the table.”
Fast forward years later to OT school, and the very same friend and I separately recalled that incident with perfect clarity. It was that bad!
Sensory Integration: It’s About Thriving, Not Conforming
While the movement-rich lifestyle of my childhood helped, I wish I had had an OT trained in sensory integration!
More next time on being a student OT with neurodiversity! ✨
Kath Smith
ASI Wise & Sensory Project