Submersion in Senses

Sustainable Development Goals (SDG)

SDG 3 [Good health and wellbeing]

SDG 4 [Quality education]

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According to the World Health Organisation, autism affects around 1 in 100 children worldwide. Autism is a neurodevelopmental disorder that correlates with brain development and is a lifelong condition. Autism is considered a “spectrum” disorder (ASD) as those with autism can experience a different range and severity of symptoms. These symptoms appear during early childhood development, including delayed speech and communication skills, repetitive behaviours, lack of eye contact, and difficulty with sensory processing. In this essay, the focus is on sensory overload, which many autistic people may experience. Please note that different individuals have varying experiences, so this description is a specific case. After reading this essay, we hope you can better visualise how sensory processing may affect people with ASD.

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I glance up at the towering, three-story buildings that mark my doom. Its pristine white paintwork and countless polished windows exude a grandiosity that perplexes only me. Clutching tightly onto my backpack, I resume my pace toward the intimidating site.

I take a brief glimpse around to discover hordes of people heading in the same direction, indifferent towards the buildings around them. Kids lug around flashy backpacks, their lively chatter dominated by laughter. Seniors enthusiastically converse about their summertime adventures, voicing their anticipation about the day ahead. Everyone carries such a carefree demeanour, blatantly antithetical to my jittery attitude. The trepidation worsens as the ceaseless cacophony prevails. I abruptly stare down at the rough pavement, scrutinising each step as a diversion.

Emerging from the seemingly endless stairs and corridors, I find my classroom and weakly approach the door. Inside, the floor is plain grey and of an uneven varnish, etched with scratches and smudges. Dozens of squeaky wooden desks with rusty metal legs are evenly spaced from one another. Several seats are occupied by students, their collective gaze on me weighing like iron blocks. A teacher gestures to me inside with a reassuring tone. I stop and attempt a nervous smile, admiring his polished leather shoes. Shifting away, my eyes flicker to an unclaimed seat at the furthest corner of the room. I traverse through the classroom to that appealing spot, sitting down to stare at the minute crevices of the table.

Suddenly, the shrill screech of a bell resounds from overhead speakers. My clenched hands instantly shield my ears from that piercing sound by instinct. The clangour resonates throughout the hallways and bounces off every single wall. Screech! Clank! Chairs and desks clang and clamour deafeningly against each other. Bang! Crash! Each collision reverberates through my bones. Immediately, everyone huddles at the door frame like packed sardines, fighting their way out. I muster the courage to stand up, fists still protecting my ears and sanity. Quivering, I walk out the door.

Outside, the hallways are conquered by an animal stampede of people. Students push and crowd everywhere. The raucous lockers clunk as they slammed shut. The squeaky metal sends shivers down my spine. Clusters of people merge together to form a blurry mosaic. The vivid, swirling colours dizzy me. It is a state of absolute pandemonium. My shaky breaths grow shallow, barely containing my agitation.

I try not to think of the escalating commotion. Yet, my racing, abrupt thoughts betray me with their irregular pattern. The shuffling of footsteps perpetuates in a disorderly manner. Incoherent discourse from every corner clashes noisily. Voices scramble and mix together as it amplifies. Cold sweat breaks out around my neck. I release a silent scream as tears flood down. The passersby sending me sharp stares are the least of my worries. I look around frantically. I need to get out. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. I dart into an empty classroom to escape.

The ruckus outside is slightly stifled as I shut the door, wiping away my sweat. After composing myself, I finally recall the earbuds prepared in my bag specifically for the occasion. Scrambling for my earpiece, I gradually regain my composure as it filters out much of the ongoing uproar. I sit at a desk and soothe myself, brushing my fingers across the smoother edges of the table.

After a relatively blissful minute, I peek out the door. The noises fade away as students eventually vacate the hallways and into classrooms. Lifting my backpack, I step out of my temporary refuge and head towards my class. As my uneasiness slowly subsides, I attempt a small smile. Still a bit wobbly, but that will do. Clearing my first hurdle of school life, I face the day ahead, slightly more assured.