the education system failed me as a gifted child with ADHD
tw: this post includes mentions of emotional and institutional abuse as well as mental health struggles, particularly depression
My first grade teacher put me in time-out in an empty classroom across the hall. She said my chatty nature disrupted the rest of the class. She said that I could come back when my assignments were complete. I obeyed.
The classroom was clean. There was no lock on it. There wasn’t even a door, just an open archway that my teacher could see through to check on me. These are all details that I’ve repeated to myself over the years to justify to myself that this forced isolation wasn’t that bad.
Yes, I received the message that I was a burden. Yes, I learned that I didn’t deserve community, care, or attention simply by existing as myself. But it was ok. Because at least the classroom didn’t have a door.
I was diagnosed with ADHD, or Attention-Deficit / Hyperactive Disorder, in senior year of high school. I was seeing a neurologist at the time for chronic recurring headaches, and as she listened to me talk, frequently losing my train of thought and then backtracking to grasp onto the threads of the narrative, she cut in with a question.
“Do you usually have trouble concentrating?”
“I guess a bit, yeah, but doesn’t everyone?”
She handed me a brief questionnaire and diagnosed me with mild ADHD.
“If it was anything worse than mild, you wouldn’t be doing as well in school as you are,” she said. “Don’t be worried about it. You’re clearly doing ok.”
The irony of her words was that after undergoing months of scans on my brain to figure out if my headaches had a neurological cause, I took a quantitative EEG test to show the electrical impulses in each area of my brain and it told me my crippling headaches were caused by severe depression.
A study published to the National Library of Medicine called “Adult ADHD and comorbid disorders: clinical implications of a dimensional approach” states that depression and anxiety often manifest as a consequence of undiagnosed ADHD, making it so that many adults with ADHD receive treatment for other mental health conditions long before they receive treatment for ADHD. 28% of individuals referred to a third clinic for mood and anxiety assessments had undetected ADHD. Some people never receive treatment for the root cause of their distress. A National Comorbidity Survey Replication in the United States found that only 11% of adults with ADHD were receiving treatment for it at all.
I sometimes consider an alternate reality where I am a white male presenting with the same symptoms that I have had my whole life. I would have been diagnosed with ADHD in a heartbeat instead of being labeled as a nuisance and a troublemaker and suffering years of emotional pain because of it. According to data from the CDC, boys are more than twice as likely as girls are to be diagnosed with ADHD. Black, white, and non-Hispanic children have the highest rates of diagnosis at 10-12% — although Black children are overdiagnosed, which is a huge issue rooted in systemic beliefs and attitudes. Meanwhile, only 3% of Asian children are diagnosed with the neurological condition. As a young South Asian girl, the odds were already stacked against me.
According to an article published by the ADHD-focused news organization CHADD, girls frequently display inattentive symptoms such as forgetfulness, trouble paying attention, and problems with organization. Boys often show hyperactive and impulsive symptoms, like blurting things out, interrupting, or being unable to sit still in class. This difference in presentation, caused by how women are socialized, is a big reason why women often go undiagnosed. This wasn’t the case for me.
The neurologist who diagnosed me with ADHD was wrong. My ADHD is severe. Since childhood I’ve displayed almost all the criteria for hyperactivity, impulsivity, and inattention. In second grade, I made a game out of tilting my chair back as far as it could go during a boring lesson. Then when my teacher yelled at me for not listening, I cried. Rejection sensitive dysphoria, or RSD, is a facet of ADHD (studies show that it may be caused by differences in brain structure) and other conditions where a person feels intense distress over rejection. The negative feelings associated with RSD are stronger and can be harder to manage than those most people experience with rejection. People with RSD are also more likely to interpret vague interactions as rejection.
My life has been a traumatizing cycle of doing something wrong by neurotypical standards, being chastised, and enduring repeated blows to my sense of self worth. Over the years I have:
Impulsively thrown my flip flop into a sewer grate because it looked to be the same width.
Colored on my friend’s face with a marker. In middle school.
Randomly kissed a friend on the cheek after hearing good news.
Among many other things.
My teachers and other authority figures assumed I was intentionally undermining their position of power. If I held different identities, the same occurrences would’ve gotten me sympathy, a parent-teacher conference, and a referral to see a doctor.
I also assume that I wasn’t diagnosed for so long because I’ve always been smart. When I was three years old I simultaneously taught myself English and how to read by listening along to a CD at the back of Dr. Seuss’s ABC. I think ADHD is a misnomer — the issue isn’t a deficit of attention, but a difficulty focusing that attention on what’s not of interest. I have always found it easy to immerse myself in topics that I find interesting, and I picked up on them quickly. I do great in testing environments because my brain uses the time constraint to turn the test into a game. I have never needed extra testing time or a separate testing environment because when I’m testing, I hyperfocus. Hyperfocus happens when someone with ADHD becomes completely absorbed in a task to a point where they appear to completely tune out everything else. It never occurred to anyone that a child who was able to not only make it through K-12 education without accommodations, but perform exceptionally, could possibly have ADHD.
But forms almost took me down. In middle school choir we had parent permission forms for field trips, and my teacher gave out detentions for anyone who didn’t turn in the form by the end of the week. I cried as my teacher reprimanded me for failing to bring my form back in on time and filled out my detention slip. I felt like a failure. Why couldn’t I do such simple things? This was exacerbated by the fact that I succeeded in things other people found difficult. I felt broken and unknowable, an outsider among the neurotypical children in my advanced classes.
But I was creative, and teachers loved that. I was able to connect threads across various disparate topics, and teachers loved that. I’m highly empathetic. I find it easy to converse with other people because I have a variety of interests to connect with them on. I consider my ability to converse to be my greatest strength. In a world starving for human connection, I help people feel safe and seen.
I am angry to think that as a young child I was isolated from other humans because I wanted to talk to them. I am angry about a lot of things.
I can’t take Adderall or other stimulant medications because they have a side effect of suppressing one’s appetite. Due to gastrointestinal health issues, I can’t afford to lose any weight. Whereas many people with ADHD use diagnosis as a catalyst to seek medication and live life with less difficulty, I’m just trudging along.
Last week I graduated from a top ten university with a Bachelor’s degree in journalism and a double major in English literature. There were many times when I thought I wasn’t going to get a degree. I’ve had professors say or insinuate that I’m wasting their time. One professor even called me the laziest student he’s ever had. In many ways I continue to be metaphorically placed in the classroom across the hall. However, there are numerous people who have shown me care and kindness, accepted me for who I am without masking. For being as exuberantly excited as I am about the things I care about, for being hyper-empathetic, for daring to imagine a world of radical new possibilities. All traits that are associated with ADHD.
I can’t undo the damage done or stop my teacher from removing me from my peers. But at least now I can remind myself that I didn’t deserve any of that. I can wrap my heart up in blankets and treat myself with the care of which I have always been worthy.
Sources:
Cleveland Clinic: Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria
Study: Adult ADHD and comorbid disorders: clinical implications of a dimensional approach
CDC data and statistics about ADHD
CHADD: How the Gender Gap Leaves Girls and Women Undertreated for ADHD