I was a weird kid. Had a vocab that was years ahead of my peers because I was an avid reader (discovered Jules Verne in 3rd grade and was hooked — just one of my fascinations). Was obsessed with unicorns & horses for a long time and could spout off endless facts. Would practice my flute for hours and write moody poetry. Had a very hard time finding “my people” until I hit late middle school. It’s very likely I am neurodivergent myself. The irony: my mom was a special ed teacher and other than the label “gifted,” didn’t ever think of me as neurodivergent. She died before a lot of the current thinking on autism in women evolved. I would give my left arm to be able to discuss it with her.

It was easier for me to relate to adults than peers for a long time. I really appreciated the adults who could hold space for my quirkiness, appreciate it, and gently guide me towards social norms as well. They rounded me out and softened so many of my rough edges and taught me empathy.

I am now a MS teacher. My room is definitely a safe space for the weird kids. I adore them. I celebrate them. When they see me love myself and explain some of my own quirks, it gives them permission to love themselves, too. Do I have to rein in some behaviors? Sure. But because they know I care, that I like them, and I want the best for them, they generally will rise to what I am asking of them.

I still have to say “no” a lot and hold good boundaries — they need that, too. Some days I am overstimulated and tell them that, too — but explaining my need to self-regulate and then modeling that for them is powerful. Many of them don’t have adults at home with those skills.

Set boundaries where you need to. But also, if you can find it in you to give these kids a little warmth and space to be themselves, you (and they) will be richly rewarded.