Etikett: sensory sensitivity

Oskar Series – Meeting Children with Neurodevelopmental Differences in School

The Oskar Series – Meeting Children with Neurodevelopmental Differences in School

Read this in Swedish → The Oskar Series – Meeting Children with Neurodevelopmental Differences in School

Welcome to the Oskar Series. Here, you will meet Oskar – a boy whose everyday school life reveals both the strengths and the challenges that can come with neurodevelopmental differences such as autism and ADHD.

This series blends personal reflections, concrete examples, and thoughts on how we can create school environments where every child has the chance to thrive.

One of my own pencil drawings is included here. To me, it symbolizes how a child might sometimes withdraw when the world becomes too overwhelming. In the Oskar Series, I want to show that behind every silence, there is a story we need to hear – and take seriously.

Blyertsteckning av en flicka som sitter ihopkrupen med armarna runt benen, en bild som uttrycker inneslutenhet, sårbarhet och behov av trygghet."
En av mina egna blyertsteckningar – för mig symboliserar den hur ett barn kan dra sig undan när världen blir för mycket. I Oskar-serien vill jag visa att bakom varje tystnad finns en berättelse vi behöver lyssna på

Bring a warm cup of your favourite drink and keep me company over the next few days as I write about the topic of autism.
Let’s move forward – with understanding, curiosity, and respect for all the children and young people who don’t quite fit into the mould that society so often tries to press them into. Their value and unique way of being don’t disappear because they don’t fit a ready-made form – in fact, that’s exactly where their strength lies.


Why the Oskar Series?

Children like Oskar often carry remarkable strengths – attention to detail, honesty, perseverance, deep special interests, and a unique ability to think outside the box. At the same time, there are also challenges, and it is important to understand them:


Sensory Sensitivity

Sounds, lights, smells, and touch can all become overwhelming. It can even come down to the difference between spaghetti and macaroni. You might not see that difference, but someone with autism knows exactly.

It can be about shape, texture, how it feels in the mouth, or even how it behaves when you chew.

Selective eating is also common and can vary, but it often means sticking to a small number of foods that feel safe and work from a sensory perspective. This isn’t about being picky – certain tastes, textures, or temperatures can actually feel unpleasant, sometimes even unbearable.


Social Interaction

It can be harder to interpret body language, small talk, and all those unwritten rules most people take for granted. For someone with autism, every situation is new. Yesterday is not the same as today – even if it might seem that way to you.

What worked yesterday might feel completely unfamiliar today, depending on how the day began, how much energy they have, and how many sensory impressions have already filled their mind.

Humor can also be a challenge. When a classmate makes a joke, the child with autism might not automatically laugh. Understanding jokes and irony is often something that needs to be learned – like a language within a language.

And when the child tells a funny story themselves, it might sometimes be borrowed from a comedian, where the audience laughed loudly. That’s how the child learned that here, at this pause, is when you’re “supposed” to laugh.

This isn’t about a lack of humor – it’s about the fact that humor, like body language and social codes, doesn’t always come naturally. It often needs to be built step by step, just like learning to read or ride a bike.


Need for Routines

Changes can create worry or stress. Routines act as small anchors of safety in everyday life, helping to bring order to a world that can otherwise feel unpredictable.

If you’ve said there are five math problems to solve before break, then it’s exactly five math problems – no more, no less. Once they’re done, it’s break time, full stop. The fact that there are still five minutes left in the lesson doesn’t matter. In the child’s mind, the rule is clear and doesn’t change.

Or take another example: if teeth are always brushed after breakfast, but today there’s no time for breakfast – then brushing teeth might feel completely wrong. In the child’s logic, the two actions belong together. No breakfast = no toothbrushing.

To others, this might seem unimportant, but for the child it’s a break in the order that provides safety. It’s not stubbornness for the sake of being stubborn – it’s a way of keeping the world understandable and manageable.


Varying Day-to-Day Energy

Energy levels can shift from day to day, and sometimes even from hour to hour. What drains that energy can be completely different – and I want to write this in big letters because it matters: DIFFERENT for everyone.

One thing that’s fairly common, though, is that children with autism may have difficulty sleeping. And perhaps that’s the only similarity in this section – because otherwise, everything is highly individual.

Energy can drain away like sand through an hourglass, sometimes after what you might think is just a small effort. It might be enough just to get up and get dressed – and then the energy is already gone.

For the child, it’s not just a matter of “getting going again.” It’s as if the battery is already drained and needs recharging, sometimes for a long time.


Misunderstandings

Adults can sometimes judge the child based on a “template” instead of meeting them for who they truly are.

By “template,” I mean the expectations and mental images we carry about how a child “should” function, develop, and react – based on our experiences with other children. That invisible frame we compare to, often without even realising it.

We humans gather experiences and use them to interpret the next situation. Sometimes this is helpful – but with children who have autism, it can be completely wrong. The template doesn’t take into account that every child is unique, with their own mix of strengths, challenges, interests, and needs.

I remember sitting in a school meeting once. The teacher said:
“We’ve had many students with autism in this school who have done well. It’s just your child who…”

The sentence stopped there – but I heard the rest anyway. The words already spoken told the whole story.

That’s the template right there – looking at my child through the lens of other people’s achievements instead of asking: What does your child need to feel good and succeed here?


Differences from ADHD

Energy levels and the need for variation can look completely different, even though some challenges overlap.

A person with autism will often appreciate – and sometimes need – clear step-by-step instructions: 1, 2, 3 – and will follow them to the letter. This can be a strength, offering structure and a sense of safety.

A person with ADHD, on the other hand, might be satisfied with just hearing the summary or the “headline,” getting the idea of the task, and then rushing off to do it – often with more spontaneity, but also with a greater risk of missing details along the way.

We’ve seen this difference many times at home. In the past, when we bought furniture from IKEA, we’d simply unpack it and start assembling – going mostly by feel. Sometimes we’d have to start over.

Now we do it differently. We hand the instructions to our son. He genuinely loves them – not a single point is missed, not a single step skipped. It’s almost as if he and the manual speak the same language.

The same goes for my kitchen machines and anything else with a manual. When he reads and explains the instructions to me, I get it right straight away.

This difference isn’t about one way being better than the other – it’s about how the brain works differently. Someone who follows instructions carefully can deliver precision and accuracy. Someone who jumps straight in can bring creativity and quick problem-solving.

But it’s important to understand these differences in order to give the right support and set the right expectations.


Why the Oskar Series Exists

To show that we can meet children in ways other than trying to shape them so that they fit into a pre-made mould.


The Series in Order

  • Part 1: Autism – Understanding and Strengths
  • Part 2: Does Oskar Really Have to Learn to Tie His Shoes?
  • Part 3: Motivating Circumstances and Invisible Support

Between the Lines

This is more than the story of a child. It’s a mirror showing how we adults create environments where some children can thrive while others are forced to struggle to fit in.

The Oskar Series is a reminder that every time we choose to see the child in front of us – instead of our image of what a child “should” be – we open a door. Not just for them, but for ourselves.


Reflection

Every child carries something unique. As adults, we can choose to see it, understand it, and give it room to grow. But we must also resist the temptation to press it into a form where it risks withering.

Carina Ikonen Nilsson

Yesterday has settled into history, tomorrow waits further ahead. Right now – this is where life happens. – Carina Ikonen Nilsson

My name is Carina, and I have, for many years, had the privilege of getting to know children and young people who may not always have fitted into the moulds of school or society.

In my work – and in life – I have seen how important it is to listen, to understand, and sometimes just to sit beside them without trying to fix everything.

I write the Oskar Series to share what I have seen, felt, and learned. To remind us that behind every glance, every silence, and every outburst, there is a story. And because I believe that we all, if we dare to see, can be that safe point that makes a difference.

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Read this in Swedish → The Oskar Series – Meeting Children with Neurodevelopmental Differences in School

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Painting, Disappointment – and the Unexpected Stillness of a Monday

This was supposed to be a post about slowing down. About seeing how a single blade of grass can whisper something about life. But sometimes, the words take their own path. And when they do, I try to follow. So here we are.

Link to Swedish version

Läs det här på svenska – klicka här


Monday under the awning – coffee, calm and everything in motion

Once again, I’m sitting outside under the awning of LVL^2, writing today’s post. My coffee cup is faithfully by my side, as always. The sky holds more clouds than yesterday, but the warmth is still there – soft, enveloping, comforting against my sleepy body.

Traffic is heavier today. It’s Monday. People heading to work. And I’m just sitting here, a little too comfortably, almost feeling guilty for having this much peace. But that’s what I have – and I’m grateful.


Painting with the wrong medium – but the right feeling

Yesterday moved in a slow rhythm. Swimming, shade, a short moment in the sun. In that shade, I brought out my watercolors. And right there it becomes obvious: I’m not a watercolor painter. I’m oil. I’m texture and reshaping. I’m mistakes that turn into masterpieces.

But I painted anyway. A girl’s face, drawn freehand. The eyes turned out too big – almost cartoonish – but still, there was something there. A glow, a kind of motion. It wasn’t detailed, but it had feeling. And sometimes that’s enough.
When you’re new at something, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It can look childlike. What matters is that I dared to try. Watercolors feel risky to me, almost threatening in the way they settle and stay – no second chances.

I also painted a landscape, and there it was even clearer that this wasn’t my strength. Watercolor requires discipline. It doesn’t forgive. It stays where you put it, whether gentle or unforgiving.

I like paint that moves. That lets itself be shaped. That’s why I love oil. With oil, you can make mistakes – and still end up with something better than you imagined. Like life, sometimes. You think you’ve ruined it, but the mistake becomes the part that makes it whole.

Callout:
What happens when you try something you’re not good at – but do it anyway? Can you be brave enough to be a beginner?


The calm in every brushstroke

Painting quiets my body completely. Just like writing. Something releases. Everything else fades away. It’s like coming home to something inside myself. A space with no pressure, no expectations. Just being. Stillness in color.


Mandys Diner – when the spark disappears

After painting and a few dips in the way-too-warm pool, we headed to Mandys Diner for dinner. It’s usually a highlight. A place where the food and the vintage décor create a sort of time-travel back to the 1950s and 60s. I’ve always loved the atmosphere – the pictures, the details, the vibe. It feels like an experience.

But yesterday… no. Something was off. Maybe it was just me. But I don’t think so.

We were greeted by a waitress who hadn’t bothered to iron her shirt. That might sound petty, but it sets the tone. It says something. That it doesn’t matter anymore.

We waited. Too long. For drinks. For food. And drinks should come quickly – it encourages you to finish and order again. It’s a win for the restaurant, really.

I ordered a burger with coleslaw. What I got was a few limp strips of cabbage and carrot – no mayo, no seasoning, nothing to hold it together. The meat was dry. Tasteless.

And the milkshake, usually a highlight – cold, creamy, dreamy – was gritty. Not even cold. The whipped cream tasted like it had been sitting out too long. Disappointing. And when even the milkshake disappoints – something’s wrong.

The whole thing cost 1400 SEK. And it stung. Not because it was expensive – but because it was a lot of money for food that didn’t bring joy. I wanted to feel satisfied. Instead, I felt tired.

Callout:
When does the magic fade from a place you once loved? Can you feel the shift when passion turns into routine?


ADHD – when the mind sees more than it wants

I often think my brain works like oil paint – it wants to revise, reshape, go back and try again. That doesn’t fit well with watercolor. And it doesn’t fit well with a restaurant visit that misses the mark.

With ADHD, I notice everything. A wrinkled shirt. The too-long wait. A milkshake that isn’t cold. Maybe others don’t see it – but my body feels it. Sounds, smells, small signals. They all hit me deep.

At the same time, that’s what gives me the ability to really see. To sense when something’s lost its spark. To know when something’s off. It’s both a challenge and a strength. And maybe that’s why I need painting and writing – because those are the spaces where I can breathe in my own rhythm, without other people’s noise or forgotten details pressing in.


The words took a different turn

I had planned to write about slowing down. About a blade of grass moving in the wind. About the beauty in small things.
But instead, this became a post about watercolor, disappointment, and quiet realizations.

And maybe that’s what I needed to write all along. Because sometimes, stillness isn’t what we plan – it’s what happens when we allow life to be what it is.


Thank you, wherever you are

I also want to say thank you. This blog has visitors from all over – Ireland shows up every week (hello from me to you!), and I’ve seen readers from the USA, Australia, Germany, Denmark and of course Norway. Norway has been with me for years – you feel like family now.

Callout:
Where are you reading from? Leave a comment – it makes the world smaller and this blog a little bigger.


Quote to carry with you

Yesterday has already settled into history, tomorrow waits further ahead. But right now – this is where life happens.
– Carina Ikonen Nilsson


Final words

This post became what it became – not what I planned. And maybe that’s the beauty of it. Letting what wants to be written find its place. Just like in painting – sometimes the mistake is what brings the whole picture to life.


Reflection

There’s peace in simply being honest. In not dressing it up. In saying: I wanted something else, but this is what came. And that’s enough.


Support this blog

If you appreciate my words, reflections and raw honesty – feel free to support this blog with a small contribution. Thank you for reading, and for being here.

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