Teaching their teachers: At Lexington High, these teens are redefining what it means to have a learning difference

It was a surreal moment for the autistic teen, who, until earlier this school year, hadn’t felt comfortable in one-on-one interactions, let alone presenting before a large crowd. Discovering the Turing Alliance, a school club that launched last fall, helped change that, she said.

The club, named after the groundbreaking computer scientist Alan Turing, who is suspected to have had autism, has become a haven for students like Agostino. It’s also turned its efforts outward, educating students and staff in the school about what it means to have various learning differences, including autism, ADHD, and dyslexia. The group celebrates their neurodivergence, a wide range of cognitive traits outside the cultural norm.

The club’s formation comes amid a growing self-advocacy movement among neurodivergent individuals, particularly those with autism who question widely used forms of therapy aimed at changing behaviors rather than embracing their differences.

Understanding and accommodating those differences was the message Agostino wanted to convey to the educators. She watched as more and more teachers filed into the auditorium, tote bags slung over shoulders and snack-sized popcorn bags in hand.

“We haven’t done it in front of this many people before,” she said, shifting her plaid blazer so that her “neurodiversity” T-shirt was on full display.

With hot pink hair and black eyeliner, Agostino, a senior, appears bold and self assured. But there was a time, not long ago, when she’d rather hide than make a statement. In early high school, she lacked confidence and exhausted herself trying to disguise her learning differences. She didn’t think peers, or teachers, would understand.

“I felt very inadequate, different, and frustrated,” she said. “I had always felt I had to mask my autistic traits and that they were a liability for me.”

Since joining the Turing Alliance, which has about 20 members, Agostino has learned to embrace her differences and educate her family about what she needs to be successful. She’s also made a group of friends who accept her for who she is, she said. Looking back now, she wishes she had discovered this newfound community earlier on.

“It would have made such a difference mentally and academically,” she said.

For club cofounder Cecilia Riordan-Bourges, stories like Agostino’s prove the group’s worth.

Riordan-Bourges, an 18-year-old senior, didn’t learn she was neurodivergent until her junior year. She had previously assumed her academic struggles — which include difficulty focusing and getting work done — were character flaws.

Starting the group with another neurodivergent teen, Sophie Shin, felt like a way to feel confident about her identity while helping others, she said.

“For a long time, I assumed that there was something wrong with me. I didn’t really know why I was different,” she said. “So we thought it would be a good idea to sort of teach other people about the symptoms to help them better understand themselves, and maybe, you know, realize that there’s nothing wrong.”

That’s a lesson that freshman Michael Mirkin has already taken to heart.

Neurodivergence “isn’t something to be fixed,” he said. “It’s not just being weird.”

During one recent club meeting in a small, dimly lit classroom tucked among the 2,300-student high school’s sprawling campus, the teens analyzed feedback from presentations they gave to each of the school’s freshman health classes, which allowed them to reach 600 students.

“Almost all the symptoms listed in the presentation coincide with how I feel,” one student had written. “How do I get a diagnosis?”

“I might be neurodivergent,” another said.

At another meeting, the group prepared for its biggest commitment of the year — the presentation in front of the school’s entire faculty and staff. As the teens refined their slide show, which delved into eye contact (which isn’t necessary for someone to be an active listener), “task paralysis” (the inability to complete specific tasks even if they’re enjoyable), and “masking” (a strategy used to appear neurotypical), Mirkin, 15, was in constant motion.

He stood, then sat, placed his right leg on a neighboring chair, then kneeled in his own seat. All the while, he fiddled with a floppy purple toy centipede, swinging it like a lasso, then twisting it around his forearm, shaking it like a tambourine, then pulling it over the top of his head into bonnet-like straps.

His movements exemplified one of the other terms the students include in their presentation: stimming, or repetitive body movements or noises often used to manage emotions.

Though no one in the Turing Alliance, including the group’s supervisor, school speech-language pathologist Kade Reticker, batted an eye at Mirkin’s activity, it’s not uncommon for teachers to chastise students for stimming, the teens said. Schools tend to be well equipped at supporting special education students needing higher levels of support but aren’t prepared to help others who require less, Riordan-Bourges said.

“The problems that come with being neurodivergent in school aren’t because of malicious intent,” she said. “It’s because people just don’t know.”

Turing Alliance members said teachers could be more supportive of the accommodations they need, such as using headphones during class to either increase or decrease their stimulation.

With just handfuls of similar clubs in schools across the country, neither Reticker nor the teens know of any others in Massachusetts public schools, but they hope that will soon change. Having support from their school administration has been key, Riordan-Bourges said.

Back in the auditorium, a hush fell over the room. Passing a microphone, the Turing Alliance members — including Agostino with her carefully planned note cards, Mirkin with his freewheeling ad libs, and Riordan-Bourges with her mature composure — kept their audience enrapt.

“I love it!” one educator whispered.

“If this had existed at my high school,” another said, “my whole life would be different.”

Mandy McLaren can be reached at mandy.mclaren@globe.com. Follow her @mandy_mclaren.