Since first discovering that I had ADHD I have thought a lot about what I might say to my teachers now, given the opportunity. I was able to dig out 12 years of reports and, somewhat foolishly read them all at once. It was quite harrowing and confronting but also made me feel angry and let down.
I have to say I have the utmost admiration and respect for teachers, especially at secondary school and I am very aware of the pressures on time and resources, and the constraints of having to work within the curriculum, meet targets and on top of all that manage behaviour in the classroom, it is definitely not a job that I would be well suited to. But I am sure that most teachers go into the profession to help and support their pupils in any way they can, and to perhaps be that one person they remember for all the right reasons.
Sadly, I didn’t have that one teacher who “got me”. I am grateful in some ways, as the information contained in my school reports were evidence of relevant traits existing prior to the age of 12, and I was able to use this as additional information for my diagnostic assessment, having sadly lost both parents 6 years ago.
I am not under any illusion that a diagnosis when I was at school would have made any difference to what was written in my reports or how I was treated. I genuinely believe that the increase in information and understanding gained over the last few years has been exponential, and this has led to many diagnoses and self-discoveries in later life, and increased understanding from professionals and others, but there is still a way to go. If I were a student today, I would certainly hope for something different to my experience.
Looking now through my better-informed Occupational Therapist eyes, my reports read like a list of ADHD traits:
• Challenges with concentration
• Easily distracted
• Daydreaming
• Chatting to friends instead of working
• Extreme disorganisation
• Not handing in homework on time
• Not meeting deadlines
• Rushing work
• inconsistency
• Lack of interest in subjects
• doodling
• Quiet
I would now see these as executive function challenges a primary feature of ADHD:
o Working memory
o Sustained attention
o Task initiation
o Planning and prioritising
o Organisation
o Time management
o Goal directed persistence
o Metacognition
As well as having an interest led brain and sensory processing differences ( a primary feature in autism, but also often present in ADHD) such as:
• Challenges with auditory processing, I would hear all noise at the same volume, therefore making it difficult to pick out the pertinent information (the teachers voice) over any background noise (often overwhelming in a school environment)
• Challenges with tactile processing, making it difficult for me to filter out the feel of the seams in my socks, my waistband, label on my shirt etc. distracting me from what I should be concentrating on
• Challenges with visual processing, making it difficult for me to follow written instruction on a chalkboard, read large pieces of text in the classroom, especially if there are lots of other sensory distractions such as bright, fluorescent overhead lights, lots of work/posters and visual information on the walls, people moving around the room
• Challenges with multisensory processing, including proprioception (our sense of where our body parts are in space and relation to each other) and vestibular input (our sense of our postition in space, head position, movement, speed, gravity etc). These work together with our other senses to help us develop spatial awareness, bilateral skills, directionality and orientation, therefore a mismatch in these senses can lead to
o Poor presentation, planning and spacing of work on a page, and potentially messy work.
o Challenges with gross motor coordination – P.E.
o Challenges with fine motor coordination – use of tools
o Poor coordination/ “clumsiness”
But anyone would be forgiven for reading the comments in my reports and thinking that I was lazy, disinterested, chaotic, careless and just wasn’t bothered or make any effort in my own education. In fact, this was the message I took from these reports and many comments from teachers over my school career. These came to form my internal monologue, playing on repeat any time I felt I had messed up, not done something as it “should be done” or failed at “adulting”.
It is no wonder this had such an impact. It is suggested by William Dodson, an American doctor with many years’ experience and expertise in ADHD, that neurodivergent children are exposed to an average of 20,000 more negative comments than those who are not neurodivergent.
Not only is this very damaging, but neurodivergent people perceive criticism much more acutely, often experiencing “rejection sensitive dysphoria” a phenomenon where a person has an extreme response to real or perceived rejection or criticism. It is something that is recognised in certain mental health conditions and neurodivergence. Although not a part of the diagnostic criteria, anecdotally it appears to be a universal experience for those who have ADHD.
So, if I were a student now, I would like to think that I could expect the following from my teacher:
• Demonstrate some curiosity as to why I am not engaging, organised, paying attention, meeting deadlines. In most cases, I am sure that human beings want to learn, especially those with ADHD, and if information is presented in a way that works with our brains we will flourish
• Offer some tools or suggest a way of accessing information in a different way that better suits my brain (if audible had been invented when I was at school, it would have been a different experience)
• Offer support. My work was very inconsistent, and I was unable to identify what I had done differently when my results aligned with what the teachers were looking for, I genuinely felt that when I made (what I believed to be) extra effort, this didn’t translate into what I produced, and my results appeared random to me. If a teacher had explained to me what they were looking for, this may have had more impact, and I could have focussed my efforts better
• Encouragement when it appeared that I had tried. RSD has an antidote - RRE “response recognition euphoria” in other words, when our efforts are recognised, this leads to a feeling of euphoria, and this has an upward spiral effect which leads to more effort being made and greater achievement
• Help me discover interest in what was being taught. As an adult I love learning and can spark an interest in many different topics. However, as a child I don’t feel this was facilitated by my teachers, and so many subjects were presented in a way that didn’t engage my brain. Perhaps if teachers had incorporated more hands-on activities, visual aids, or movement-based learning, I might have been able to absorb information more effectively
• While my challenges were often the focus, I had strengths too—creativity, curiosity, and a unique way of seeing the world. If teachers had nurtured these instead of only pointing out my weaknesses, I might have left school with more confidence instead of feeling like I was never quite good enough.
• Understanding and compassion that I was not doing these things wilfully, or to be difficult, I was putting in my best effort, despite constantly being told I “must try harder”. Teachers could have helped by breaking tasks into smaller steps, providing checklists, and offering clear, consistent instructions. Regular reminders and structured timelines would have made a world of difference in keeping me on track
• Creating a safe space for questions and support, without fear of judgement. I often hesitated to ask for help, fearing I’d be seen as slow or incapable, or worried that it would highlight the fact that I may not have been listening. If teachers had reassured me that it was okay to need extra support, and ask again, without fear of shame or judgement, I might have felt more comfortable speaking up instead of silently struggling
• Understanding Sensory Processing Difficulties. I also struggled with sensory processing issues, though I didn’t have the words for it at the time. Bright lights, loud noises, scratchy uniforms, and crowded hallways could feel overwhelming, making it even harder to focus or stay regulated. If my school had provided some quieter spaces, allowed sensory-friendly adjustments, or simply recognised how environmental factors affected me, it might have felt less exhausting.
• To be seen, heard and understood. I know I was only one of hundreds of pupils, but to be recognised and acknowledged by my teachers might have made all the difference. This could have just been a small thing like noticing and commenting positively when I did show an interest in something or finding out about something that may have been a special interest to me and asking me about it occasionally
As I said, I am not under any illusion that having a diagnosis when I was at school would have made any difference, I do believe things have moved on considerably in the last 30+ years. However I do often lament the years I feel were overshadowed by my negative internal monologue, that shouted louder than all my outward achievements, such as gaining my degree, raising a family, running a household, running several businesses, being a loyal partner and friend. Only since receiving my diagnosis and understanding myself better have I started to rewrite that script, allow myself grace and undo the damage that was done by these negative comments. I often wonder what I might have achieved had I had just one teacher who had “known and seen” me and what that might have led me to.
With my new confidence and understanding I am making up for lost time in my career and personal life, and I try not to have regrets, but there is a large chunk of time I will never get back when I could have worked towards being who I am now becoming, someone who brings a lot of value to the world and those around me.
This is obviously just my story, it’s not remarkable, and in fact is probably quite a common one. Everyone will have their own unique story, I was the shy, quiet, daydreaming child (a common presentation in girls, but also often missed in boys).
Most people will recognise an alternate presentation of the loud, bouncy, “misbehaving” boy (again not unique to boys) who is likely equally misunderstood as not wanting to learn, being disruptive and avoiding work, whose school reports highlighted hyperactivity, impulsivity, difficulty staying seated, talking too much, and acting out in class.
Too often, rather than understanding why a child was struggling, the focus was on punishing behaviour.
Difficulty sitting still, blurting out answers or fidgeting constantly were often seen as a lack of discipline. If teachers had understood that these were children whose nervous systems craved movement and stimulation, they may have been approached with more patience and proactive strategies instead of punishment.
Human beings were designed to move, not to sit still for hours at a time, so it can feel like torture for a child to stay in their seat. Instead of punishment for getting up and moving around, tapping feet etc. incorporating more movement into lessons, allowing some to stand while working, using fidget tools, allowing doodling or engaging in hands-on activities would help to keep all students engaged, not just those who are neurodivergent.
Creating a safe Space for emotional regulation. Emotions can often feel overwhelming, and frustration or boredom can quickly turn into outbursts. Provision of a quiet area to calm down, techniques to help with emotional and sensory regulation, and acknowledgement that these things weren’t being done on purpose, could reduce the constant cycle of reprimands and shame
Most neurodivergent children are likely to benefit from teachers who show compassion, have increased knowledge and understanding, remove shame and focus on their unique strengths. This approach can help them develop the foundations to thrive and enter adulthood with confidence and self-acceptance.
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