Content Note: ableism, neurodiversity, ADHD, late diagnosis, and power dynamics in educational and workplace settings

Supporting the Learners I Used to Be

ableism, neurodiversity, ADHD, late diagnosis, and power dynamics in educational and workplace settings 
 
I didn’t receive my ADHD diagnosis until my early 30s. I’m AFAB (assigned female at birth), which meant that I was socialized to be a caregiver, people-pleaser, over-achiever, etc. My diagnosis allowed me to become a lot more empathetic to my younger self, and to understand my needs more as an adult. 

Elementary school was where I recognized I had different needs from some of my peers, but I didn’t know what they were/ how to ask for them. I recall a teacher singling me out for drawing while he was talking. He asked me to repeat what he was saying, and I was able to, but I still felt shame for being called out, like I was doing something wrong, even though the doodling helped me pay attention. From grade 1-8 I was pulled from French class to work with a speech pathologist because I had an articulation disorder (20-50% of children with ADHD have language impairments). I was an avid reader, and I remember in grade 4 I was put into the “dumb” reading group- my teacher stereotyped me because of my language impairment. Before I went to high school, I was offered to continue to do speech therapy but at that point I was sick of being called out of class. With age and learning how to slow down my brain, I was able to work on my articulation disorder and now it only slips out if I’m excitedly talking too fast.  

Higher education came with different challenges than elementary/ high school. Large classes that were 3 hours long, meant I easily got distracted and was too scared to ask for clarification/ build relationships with professors. I really struggled writing my thesis- a huge looming document that I couldn’t see the end of. Without my very attentive and supportive supervisor, I literally don’t know how I would have completed my master’s - his non-judgemental approach made all the difference in my success.  

Working as a STEM Coordinator means a flexible schedule that changes weekly based on programmatic needs. This novelty is conducive to motivation for my neurodivergent brain. However, big documents are still daunting. I have a hard time digging into curriculum and would rather work on the other small tasks that need to get done. I get easily distracted and need to build in guardrails for focus (take my meds, schedule a mid-morning movement break, take intentional screen breaks, turn off phone/ email/ Team’s notifications, etc.). I work better under pressure, but programs work better when curriculum is sorted out months in advance. I need to build in ‘life-rest’ when work is demanding, so I don’t burn out (have fewer life plans during busy seasons/ plan vacations after camp is done to reset before returning to work). Conferences are also very over-stimulating. I want to participate in the social outings after the conference sessions, but it is too energy intensive after I’ve been attentive and socializing all day. After the conferences though, I feel guilt and shame for not building more connections. It really sucks when my desire for connection doesn’t match up with my capacity. I’m still learning how to hold myself gently through this all, and I'm very thankful to have an understanding supervisor who I felt safe enough to share when I received my diagnosis and to ask for support when I needed it. 

Reflecting on my neurodivergence and personal experience in educational settings has informed how I create safe spaces for both my staff and program participants. In our programs, we provide fidget toys, extra colouring sheets, and incorporate movement breaks (both structured and unstructured). We offer program participants closed choices so that they don’t need to identify their needs at the moment, instead they just choose between the options provided. A lot of our participants have English as a second language, and we take our time to make sure that they get the additional support they need so they understand and enjoy the program. I get so much joy when I visit a program and the participant who was pushing boundaries/ was dysregulated at the beginning of the week has fully integrated into camp and is shining because of the kind support they received. Creating these safe and inclusive learning spaces feels very healing for my younger self. I am forever grateful for the support I’ve received from the supervisors I mentioned above, and I hope that I can return the support to my staff/ program participants that need it, so that they too can thrive and get their needs met.