Diving headlong into acceptance

Making friends, Meridith Goldman recalled in a sad whisper, was never easy for her. In high school, the other students teased her about her learning disabilities and made her feel like a misfit.

''It was very tough. Depressing. Stressful," said Goldman, a 27-year-old with strawberry blond hair and downcast eyes. After leaving school, she moved into a Coolidge Corner group home and found a job at a nearby arts-and-crafts shop. There, no one mocked her. But she still couldn't find many people to have fun with.

So when Goldman heard two years ago about a group called Springboard, the social club specifically for adolescents and adults with learning disabilities, she leapt at the chance. She soon had a raft of friends who brightened her days and filled her Friday nights. The group, Goldman said during a recent club gathering in Boston, became her ''place to be free."

''People here understand your problems, your complications," she said, choosing her words carefully. ''You don't have to be tense. They understand who you are. They understand you."

Springboard is one of the only programs of its kind in the state and one of only a few in the nation. It offers help in discovering what many other singles take for granted and something that everyone desires -- a chance to socialize, meet people, connect.

The program is run by Toward Independent Living and Learning Inc., a human services agency that helps people with disabilities find housing and jobs.

People who come to Springboard have a wide range of learning disabilities or Asperger's syndrome, a type of autism that impairs social and communication skills. Many members, while not developmentally delayed, have impaired intellectual functioning, speech patterns, and social skills. It is a group that, as one counselor says, ''falls between the cracks" between those with developmental disabilities and the world at large.

Although some members are able to hold down regular jobs or have their own apartments, in social situations, they struggle. They can't recognize jokes and nonverbal cues. They speak too loudly or ask questions that are too personal. Their disabilities stand out and little comes naturally to them. Isolation sets in. Most do not drive.

It was that dilemma that in 1981 prompted a group of parents of children with learning disabilities to start the Dedham-based Springboard. Today the club has 130 members, ages 15 to 55. They are divided into nine groups by age and interests. The group Goldman belongs to has 14 other 20-somethings. They typically meet near T stops in Boston, Brookline, and Cambridge.

Membership costs $720 a year, and the group meets three times a month, either for casual get-togethers or coordinated events and trips. But as the group's name suggests, many members soon start making plans on their own.

Most cultivate a circle of friends quickly, finding connection and compassion that has long eluded them, said Cheryl Kaufmann, who directs the club.

''We all have each other's cellphone numbers," said member Melissa Bradley, 22, at once proud and thankful.

Bradley's high school experience, like those of many Springboard members, was trying. She fell into a bad crowd who ''bossed me around and walked over me," she said. She joined Springboard after hearing Kaufmann speak at her class at Middlesex Community College's transition program, a two-year program for students whose disabilities would make regular college too challenging.

''People here are nicer. More accepting," said Bradley, who lives in Billerica. Instead of sitting home watching reruns and eating bonbons, she said, she goes to movies, and dinners, and on weekend day trips.

At a recent gathering, members are fondly recalling some of the year's events. As they pass around cheese pizza, they laugh over excursions to Times Square, Water Country, and Battleship Cove. They share stories about holiday parties and dances, and try to recreate when members who have become couples first caught each other's eye.

In most ways, the gathering is no different than any other group of friends meeting after work. They chat about work and weekends, sports and movies, tell jokes and old stories. But there's also a deep sense of gratitude at having found each other.

Structured social programs like Springboard are regrettably scarce, because it's common for adults with learning disabilities to feel lonely and isolated, said Arlyn Roffman, a special education professor at Lesley University and author of ''Meeting the Challenge of Learning Disabilities in Adulthood."

''Many might have a hard time telling a smile from a smirk," she said. ''It can be very frustrating, because they don't know exactly what they are doing wrong. Some become wary of even trying."

But among people who share their difficulties, Roffman said, adults with learning disabilities often flourish socially.

''Our educational system is really geared toward inclusion," she said. ''But the fact is that there is something very beautiful about their friendships together. They revel in finding people who have had similar experiences and struggles to their own."

There is more than friendship at Springboard. Under pressure from members, Kaufmann began offering speed dating nights to pair up potential couples.

Speed dating entered the mainstream a few years ago and has become an increasingly popular way for singles to meet each other. Events are usually held at bars where participants shuttle rapid-fire through several condensed dates, typically lasting less than 10 minutes. Afterward, singles mingle with the crowd and fill out scorecards listing who they enjoyed meeting. Organizers later send contact information to people who said they'd like to see each other again.

At Springboard, Kaufmann gives members surveys, then matches people whose interests and personalities seem to overlap. Those members then meet one-on-one for a few minutes to see if there's a spark. When there is, they can arrange to meet each other on their own.

That's how Alison Burns, 27, of Brookline met the man she fondly refers to as ''this doofus here," as she leans into a clearly smitten Noah Geller, a 24-year-old who lives in Watertown. Their first date was dinner at Pizzeria Uno's in Harvard Square and the movie ''Love Actually." Burns called Kaufmann later that night to tell her all about it.

Now Burns and Geller talk for hours on the phone and see each other several times a week, said Burns. They are a good match, both agree, because they see the world through similar eyes.

''It's like speaking the same language," Burns said. ''You have a lot in common because you're the same way."

For more information, visit www.till-springboard.org. Peter Schworm can be reached at schworm@globe.com.