Stop Making Life on Hard Mode Harder!

Shortly after I started working at PiM, an Arts High School where I now teach, there were two interactions with students that happened in the same day that got me thinking about how we treat learning disabilities.  The first was with a student in my Math Foundations course who was obviously trying and obviously frustrated. We learned to work well together but any math was tough for them. We’d often break work periods into alternating 5 minutes of working and 5 minutes drawing; they would often grasp concepts but following the thread through longer problems was an issue; they would regularly come in with multiple caffeinated drinks in the morning and explained to me that the constant influx of caffeine helped them work. In short, they hit a lot of symptoms on my ADHD radar: unable to concentrate on a subject that doesn’t interest them while being able to work on subjects that do, easily distracted, unable to break larger problems into smaller parts on own, self-medicating with a stimulant, caffeine. (Note: I am not a doctor or psychologist, and I am in no way diagnosing this student, though I did talk with them about seeing someone) On this day, the student mentioned that they needed to pass all their classes or their parents would force them to transfer and take them to a psychiatrist and get them diagnosed with ADHD.                    

Two periods later, a student in my Pre-Calc class came in and announced to their friend “Guess what! I got my first neurodivergent diagnosis: ADHD!” (Later revealed to be the inattentive subtype to be exact).  Right away a conversation started with a number of students (and me) sharing experiences, tips on working with it, our struggles beforehand and faking things, how we reacted to different medications, and other topics. It was perhaps the most open, honest and welcoming conversation on neurodiversity I’ve been part of, including support groups for mental illness. As the semester continued, this student was comfortable in advocating for accommodations (a copy of my slides before class, use of headphones during tests, and breaking larger projects into discrete smaller parts) and was on my short list for an end of the year Math Award. It ended up going to that friend they had announced their ADHD diagnosis to, but it was a very hard decision

        I’ll be the first to admit there are numerous other factors which contributed to the struggles of the first student and the success of the second, but it got me to thinking how those two different students had different experiences. The family, and perhaps consequently the student, in the first instance approached ADHD as a personal failing, something they should be able to overcome through force of will. The student in the second case approached ADHD as a medical issue and consequently didn’t feel shame in asking for what they needed or sharing their experiences. There is a quote I love that compares living with neurodivergence with playing life on Hard Mode, and this strikes me as having a great deal of truth to it.  Autism and ADHD both affect the executive function of our brains; this makes it harder to do all sorts of things like concentrate on a task (that doesn’t interest us), plan how to accomplish a large task, hold multiple pieces of information in our mind (like multiple steps in directions), deal with strong emotions, etc.  In a lot of ways our brains are working against us and if it doesn’t get treated and accommodations aren’t given, everyday tasks are made significantly harder.  How to ADHD has wonderful descriptions of what it is like dealing with executive disfunction and it’s unsurprising that many of us grew up thinking we were lazy, unmotivated, a slacker and numerous other unhelpful self-talk labels.  Combined with our very real issues, this self-talk undermines our self-confidence, our mental health, and our very ability to succeed, so we need to stop making it even harder for people going through life on Hard Mode.

        There are still stigmas against various diagnoses, 504 plans, or IEPs.  Many parents, students, and others view them as a label to be avoided, an excuse to be ignored, or a result of “bad parenting.” Because of this, students like my first example are not evaluated, are not treated, and are not given appropriate accommodations.  Not only is the game on hard mode, but they’re also playing with a laggy computer and no instruction manual!  
It’s no wonder why they get pissed off at the game and want to quit. The problem with invisible disabilities is…well, they’re invisible. It’s much easier to see that a person who can’t walk needs a wheelchair and a ramp to enter a school than it is to see that a person with ADHD needs medication and breaking large tasks into smaller ones to succeed at school. This plays into that stigma I talked about earlier, both externally and internally, and creates those feelings of guilt, frustration, and uncertainty.  “Is it really harder for me to remember things?  Do I actually need this medication? Is it truly fair for me to get extra help?”  Yes, the answers to all of those questions are “Yes, absolutely!.” When we don’t avail ourselves of all the tools we need because of shame, we’re setting ourselves up for failure. Worse yet, when we tell others they really don’t need those tools, we’re actively gaslighting them and making it harder for them to ask for those tools in the future.

        But what happens for us “2E (Twice Exceptional) Students”, those who are disadvantaged in some way but gifted in another?  What if we can get by without those accommodations, what if the disability doesn’t affect us “that much,” is it still fair to ask for them? After all, if we’re gifted in one way and disadvantaged in another, doesn’t that even out? Well, for want of a better phrase, that’s a load of crap. So, what if we’re affected less by a disability than others; if you need glasses, you need glasses. We don’t say, “Well, your eyesight isn’t that bad, you can still make out most words.” If you are a champion at the bench press who uses a wheelchair we don’t say “Aren’t you able to pull yourself along with your arms?” Watching Isaac at school has really driven this point home for me. I believe Isaac probably would have been “ok” without the early intervention in reading, or social skills groups, or visual schedules and organization help to keep him on track. But (warning: parent brag) he’s not doing just ok, he’s doing freaking awesome! There’s no reason to have him play on Hard Mode just because he could. There’s no reason for him to hear, “But you have so much potential,” and not be given those tools he needs to reach his fullest potential. In education and in society we should be eager to work with people to make them more successful, not purposefully hold them back because they are “successful enough.”

In our society we often celebrate those who have not only accomplished great things but had to overcome something in order to accomplish them. We cheer Wilma Rudolph overcoming polio to win Olympic Gold. We boggle at Srinivasa Ramanujan who was raised in poverty and almost entirely self-taught in mathematics but changed the field forever.  We listen in awe to Beethoven’s music that he composed after going deaf. There are those who view the task to of overcoming many invisible disabilities as the individual’s responsibility and we shouldn’t “change the rules” to accommodate them. After all, if the heroes mentioned above can overcome their adversities, why can’t that kid with ADHD just shut up and pay attention? There are numerous answers to this, but I want to point out a big one: We don’t purposefully heap adversity on people just so they can be “heroic” when they overcome it. It would be senseless, cruel, and immoral to, for instance, purposefully deafen a musician just because Beethoven was able to overcome it.  Similarly, it’s senseless, cruel, and immoral to make anyone go through life on Hard Mode without supporting them. It's time we stopped beating down those with ADHD (and other varieties of neurodivergence) and treating their struggles as a moral failure; instead we need to acknowledge it as a medical issue, worthy of the treatment and accommodations any other medical issue would be.