Being a Student with Neurodiversity, One Sensory Adventure at a Time
I first encountered Ayres Sensory Integration before I even officially became a student. As a 16-year-old scholar on a gateway project, I was the befriender to a lady who could knit—but only while she was swinging in a seat on the house stoep (verandah). 🏡🧶 Unknown to me at the time, this was my first profound insight into the science of sensory integration. 🤯
My dad, who clearly knows me well 🤦, was equally perplexed when I regaled him with these fascinating facts—that swinging helps with knitting. “Were you even paying attention to anything else?” he asked, eyebrows raised. 🤔 He immediately checked if I had been “focusing well”, no doubt wondering if this was just another one of my offbeat observations rather than my actual discovery of sensory-based occupational engagement.
And so began my journey of realizing that everything—yes, everything in life—is about sensory integration. 🎢
Learning Through Experience (and Furniture Acrobatics) 🏄♀️
During one of our lectures, a lecturer casually pointed out my doodling and the way I wrapped my leg around yet another chair—as if I were auditioning for Cirque du Soleil’s newest “Distracted Student” act. 🎭🤸♀️ She used it as an example of how sensory needs manifest in learning environments.
She also explained that one of our classmates always knitted in class because knitting helped with focus and attention. 🧵🧠 She did, however, suggest switching to quieter wooden needles instead of metal ones to avoid the clicking distracting others.
As I reflected on this, I met an incredible professor of neurosurgery during my neuro-rehab placement, and suddenly, even more connections started forming. 🔬👀 He was a keen observer and asked me about my choice of studying OT. He was thinking I should swap to study medicine. I explained how I first learned about occupational therapy through my orthopaedic surgeon, and he shared his theory about dyspraxia, eye colour, hypermobility, ADHD, and pain thresholds. 🤔💡
It was then that my hypermobile legs and arms, my peculiar pain thresholds, and the way my joints twisted into shapes that would make a yoga instructor envious 🧘♀️ all took on new meaning. These weren’t just quirks or party tricks—they were part of my story. My childhood congenital hip dysplasia, a condition that frequently co-occurs with hypermobility, suddenly made perfect sense. 🤯 No wonder I had been such a great OSCE model for the fourth years—I was practically an anatomical puzzle with a built-in range of motion demonstration! 🦴
Discovering Sensory Integration 🧩
Once I started exploring Ayres Sensory Integration more deeply, everything started to click into place, like the world’s most satisfying jigsaw puzzle. 🧠✨ My constant need to move, the way I shifted in my seat, even the funny way my joints worked—it all fit into a broader understanding of how my body and brain worked together.
Learning about sensory integration was both liberating and validating. It wasn’t about changing who I was but understanding myself better. It gave me the language to describe what I had always felt but had never fully understood. It also helped me recognize the same patterns in others—classmates who tapped their pens, chewed gum, or needed to fidget in some way. We were all sensory beings, navigating the world in ways that made sense for our nervous systems. 🌍🧠
The Client Who Wanted to Crochet (and the Unexpected Debate) 🧶
One unforgettable moment came during my placement in older adult dementia care, which stood out for all the wrong reasons—thanks to the bright purple UV anti-theft dye lurking in cupboards and the rent-a-radios. 🎭🎶 The dye wasn’t just for decoration; it was there to catch a crook who had been making off with the radios meant for client entertainment. Amidst this unexpected drama, I also found a powerful lesson in client-centered care.
I was encouraged to teach an elderly lady to knit, but she didn’t want to knit—she wanted to crochet. Armed with my solid (and apparently controversial) belief in client choice, I supported her in doing what she actually wanted. 💪
In supporting her choice, I found myself navigating differing perspectives on therapeutic interventions. My practice educator had certain expectations, while my university educator strongly advocated for “client choice.” This led to some lively discussions about how best to balance structured therapy goals with a person’s own interests.
Lesson learned? Advocating for what a person actually wants means getting caught in the crossfire of policy, tradition, and personal conviction. Sometimes, real change happens in the messy, awkward spaces where rules get challenged, and the best practice isn’t always the easiest option.
The Woodstock Splint: A Masterpiece of Sensory-Led Innovation 🌻🔥
Faced with the tricky task of splinting a hemi hand with palmar burns, I teamed up with Rob, a fourth-year physiotherapy student, and did what any self-respecting students with unlimited time in a water bath and thermoplastic room would do—we went full mad scientist mode. 🔥🧪
And thus, in the GSH burns unit, The Woodstock was born. 🌸 It was, without a doubt, the biggest, floweriest, most ridiculous and fantastical thermoplastic hand splint ever seen.
Thinking about it now makes me smile—I’m sure there was a more conventional way, but where’s the fun in that? Sometimes you just have to embrace the process (and the floral shape) and learn from the experience! 🎨✨
Embracing Neurodiversity in Education 📚
Being a student with neurodiversity was like running an obstacle course—except no one gave me a map, and half the time, the obstacles were invisible to everyone else. Traditional learning environments assumed a one-size-fits-all approach, but I learned to adapt.
What really saved me? Finding my people—the ones who got it without me having to explain. 💛 The key isn’t about ‘fixing’ yourself to fit the system—it’s about figuring out how to make the system work for you.
Conclusion
Looking back, I see how every moment—from that first encounter with the woman on the swing to being a hands-on OSCE model—felt like a crash course in navigating a world that wasn’t always designed for people like me. 🏗️🎢
Life’s too short to sit still! 💫💛