Working in a school as a teacher exposed my ADHD traits. I just didn’t know it at the time. It’s blindingly obvious now.

Following redundancy from the BBC, during lockdown, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. Teaching appealed. Schools had stayed open during the pandemic to an extent. I wouldn’t be stuck at home. I would always be with people. I would be able to move and travel somewhere. 

I only wanted to be an art teacher. I wasn’t interested in anything else, the only other consideration was media due to my journalism background, but you can’t train solely as a media teacher. When I applied, and during my interview, the head of the course, Sally, and the woman who’d become my mentor, let’s call her Helga (six foot tall, blond, wouldn’t look out of place in a Bavarian village blowing an alphorn) were seduced by my former profession, and my age. The kids will love that you worked for the BBC. 

(Did they bollocks). 

My age, and life experience, apparently, would help with authority and relatability. I got the impression they thought I was an almost fully formed teacher. It would be easy to train me. I would breeze it. I was willing to go along with that. I got a lot of comments about my ‘calmness’… I present as calm… inside it’s like playing laser quest with drugged donkeys, set to a 1980s pop electro soundtrack – which sounds fun, but not when you’re trying to concentrate and stop kids punching each other. I did a good job of masking the chaos inside my head, mostly, until the real me showed up and they saw me for who I believed I was. A bit of a fraud. 

ADHD and imposter syndrome are linked. Traits of ADHD, like disorganisation and executive function challenges, lead to feelings of being a fraud despite accomplishments.

The first day of my teaching practice I was given my timetable. They’d added DT (design technology). My heart sank. I had hated DT at school, or CDT as it was known. They didn’t discuss it with me until it was too late. The reasoning was it would give me a better chance of a job. More likely, as there was only one art teacher, and one classroom, there wasn’t enough to go round. I should have done my homework, my research. As an ADHDer, planning and organisation aren’t my strong points. (Unless I REALLY want to do it, like planning a holiday).

I realised I’d been set up. There was more great news – there were barely any art teacher roles to go to after the course had finished. Therefore I could make myself more employable by learning another subject. And, as there was a shortage of DT teachers, voila. We’ll turn you into one… by default.

‘DT and art aren’t that dissimilar…’ 

Totally different.

‘You’re a MAN, you must love making things with wood and plastic.’

Haha. Nope. You’re so wrong. Ask my dad. 

Despite me paying for the course, I didn’t feel I had much choice to teach DT. As a people pleaser I went along with it. I tried my best to teach a subject I had no passion or interest in. God, I tried. But as far as I could tell it hadn’t changed since 1994. Kids were still sawing bits of coloured perspex with blunt hacksaws. The sounds and smells brought it all back. The clunk and slam of the vices, the scent of hot plastic. My old CDT teacher Mr Raynor, returned from the dead in his white jacket, giving off Nazi doctor vibes, to remind me how shit I was, smacking me over the head repeatedly with the crap ladle I’d made.

I fucking hated it. 

ADHDers are driven by what they are interested in, not what’s important or necessary. With the art side, what I wanted to do, I was absolutely fine. More than fine. This was my passion. I was buzzing. I spent ages planning a series of lessons about portraiture for a year 10 group. It didn’t feel like a chore. It was fun. Exciting.

I would dread the DT lessons. Before I had to start planning and teaching them, I would observe the teacher. I’ll call her Mrs P. She was quite stern, abrupt at times, there was a touch of Trunchball about her. She even scared me sometimes. She once told me how grateful I should be for Helga’s time. (I should say here, Helga volunteered to be a mentor, she wasn’t forced at gunpoint). This made me feel guilty and a burden. Classic ADHD.

I nearly killed Mrs P twice. Once by eating nuts in the office… I knew she had an allergy, but I didn’t know how much the nut dust would make her throat constrict. She left once, dramatically clutching her neck, until I’d hoovered all the nutty particles up.  

The second time I thought nothing of liberally using white spirit as oil paint thinner during the year 10 class. The vapors engulfed my room and hers, as well as the ground floor… and the whole school. Of course, white spirit is highly flammable, but I’d used it loads of times before without incident. Mrs P predicted the school would be engulfed in flames, and began opening windows and evacuating classrooms. I was left feeling the shame of potentially causing a major incident, but more the poor planning around this. I felt stupid, and all the other teachers thought I was a knob. They’d all be talking about that art teacher who nearly killed everyone.

I couldn’t help thinking that Mrs P didn’t think I was up to it. ‘You’re very brave to do this at your age,’ she commented once. It was a statement I’d heard a few times. Swap brave for stupid, and you get their true feelings.  During an observation, Mrs P was showing a year 7 group how to change a hacksaw blade, and I zoned out. My attention was taken by what was happening outside, the posters on the walls, the graffiti on the tables. Everything but what I was supposed to be listening to. I was bored as fuck.

‘Sir, can you show us how to do it?’ said Mrs P, after noticing my inattentiveness. ‘Oh fuck,’I thought, but I didn’t have enough time to freak out. Somehow, through intuition and blind luck, I figured it out. ADHDers tend to pull it out the bag under pressure. 

It never got any better. I was bored out of my mind. I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. I worried over the whole of one weekend about teaching DT. The anxiety made me feel sick. I told Helga I didn’t want to do it anymore, and she took it badly, calling in the course leader for a meeting. I felt like a burden, I’d let them down. They explained teaching DT would help me get a job. They offered me the opportunity to create my own project, something that appealed to me. I accepted this when I shouldn’t have. Impulsively I’d said yes, when it meant more work, extra planning, when I had enough piling up already. I had no idea where to start. I’d only created more chaos, rather than reducing it.

ADHD can lead to a fear of letting people down due to difficulties with time management and impulsivity, often resulting in a pattern of overpromising or making mistakes. 

To make matters worse, in art, Helga decided she wouldn’t let me have her own planning for years 7, 8, 9. She told me the topic, the artists the kids would study, but that was it. I’d have to do it all from scratch. This felt grossly unfair. This wasn’t happening elsewhere among my new friends in other schools. But somehow, I was proving I wasn’t the fraud I thought I was, I was doing it. Pulling it all off. Along with my university work, and the work from class days. The weekly massive list of things to do would be completed by Sunday, and quickly filled back up again by Monday. It was exhausting. But I kept going. 

I loved the uni days. Being with the other trainees, building friendships, having fun. It was a huge part of me wanting to carry on. I felt popular. I made people laugh. I was a good friend. I was someone to turn to. I enjoyed people thinking I was well adjusted and coping well with it all. Breezing it. They say ADHDers are great actors due to the years of masking. I couldn’t agree more.

Dopamine levels are lower in ADHDers. This can lead to a craving for experiences that provide a reward. The novelty and thrill of pursuing new connections, friendships, can provide this hit.

As part of the course I had to have two weeks at a different school ahead of a longer placement there. I had two brilliant weeks. Hayley, the head of art, was brilliant. We were the same age. She was supportive and approachable. She was also a mother so understood family commitments. I didn’t feel the pressure I’d felt with Helga. Hayley knew it was a job, it was important, but it wasn’t everything. It was a breath of fresh air in comparison to Helga. I lost count of the amount of times Helga had said to me: ‘You’ve got to really want it.’ I did want it, but I didn’t want it to come at the cost of everything else. Helga liked to brag about how dedicated she was, staying until 8pm at night sometimes. Good for you, but fuck that.

I cracked when Helga asked me to attend a year 11 parents’ evening. I didn’t even teach year 11. The same date was my son’s birthday. We had plans, and I’d only been given two weeks notice. It was unfair to ask me to do it. After saying no, Helga didn’t give in. Again, she got the backing of the course leader. I could attend half of the parents’ evening and then go home. I reluctantly agreed but I was livid about it. I seethed. Helga could tell, and she asked me what was wrong. It all poured out… She told me the date had been in the diary since the start of term. (I had never seen this). I should have known. It was my fault. I grabbed my coat and I walked out of the room. I never returned to the school. I was called into a meeting with the course leader the next day, and was told if I’d done that as a teacher I’d have been facing a disciplinary. I took the blame, but I still felt I was right. I was being exploited.

ADHD is linked to a heightened sensitivity to injustice, which can manifest as intense emotional reactions like anger or frustration over perceived unfairness.

Following my dressing down, I was asked whether I wanted to continue. I wasn’t sure. I felt so low. I didn’t want to let anyone down. It was an intense feeling and I was really hard on myself. This didn’t stop me feeling like shit while doing a lot of soul searching. 

Reflecting on this experience I realised I was likely suffering from Rejection Dysphoria Syndrome. RDS is an intense emotional reaction to perceived or actual rejection or criticism. RDS can lead to low self-esteem due to the internalisation of past criticism. Over time, this cycle can negatively impact self-worth. I think taking the blame and backing down was probably me thinking I’d caused a lot of pain to lots of people. 

Looking back I struggled with a lot of the work. I wasn’t always sure I understood the educational theories as part of the PGCE. I didn’t ask, I slipped back into an old way of thinking, ‘I’ll figure it out later’ – except I didn’t. Most of the time I’d forget what I’d learned that day.

We also had to do English and maths GSCE papers as part of the course. This was no longer required by the government, but the course leaders thought it was important. I had zero time to prepare, although those working at the school where the course was based, were able to access past papers. I struggled with both exams. I just passed the English paper, but failed the maths. I would have to resit it. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. I cried on my way home. As a teenager it had taken me three attempts to pass maths. I’d always struggled with the subject. 

I remember feeling confused and panicked by the maths questions, and in some cases, thinking I understood only to answer in a completely different and wrong way. I know when I’m following instructions that I don’t always follow them carefully. I’m terrible at IKEA manuals, or instructions for games. My eyes dart around randomly like I’m trying to find a cheat code. 

ADHD can make following instructions difficult because of impacts on attention, working memory, and executive function.

In the end, I left the course. I spent the whole of Christmas 2021 brooding over what I was going to do. Lost in my own world. Not paying much attention to my family. I tried to keep going, but after we had to do online lessons due to another Covid spike, I quit. I was devastated. I remember going for a walk and breaking down. I’d left journalism, to start another one in education, thinking this is what I would do for the rest of my life. I was at the very bottom again. No job, and nothing to show for the three months I’d spent on the course. I’d wasted time. Wasted money. Got people’s hopes up, and now I’d fucked everything up.

Thankfully, I had the love and support of my wife, who herself was struggling in the profession as a neurotypical teacher. What hope did I have? I also had the support of my family and best friend, John. I do wonder where I’d have been without them. Depressed, certainly. Suicidal? Possibly. Adults with ADHD are 5 times more likely to attempt suicide. 

In my journal, on 5th January 2022, I wrote how much I’d enjoyed working with the pupils and students. It’s true, the memories of those connections remain. However, I wrote about what turned me off – ‘the admin, the data, questioning, assessment’. All things I would always struggle with if I carried on. 

I didn’t know I was neurodivergent at this time. But here’s the interesting thing. My favourite times were working with the ‘quirky kids’. The class that needed the most help. The kids with ADHD, dyslexia, autism and other needs. I connected with them and those who it was deemed were not capable of remaining in class due to behaviour issues. 

Apparently, there’s such a thing as a “ADHD radar” due to shared experiences and communication styles. This recognition comes from feeling a similar sense of being different, relating to each other’s struggles, and understanding each other’s communication patterns in a way that neurotypicals may not.

If this is true, how fascinating.

Picture: Me on the teaching away day missing the bar (target) and really hurting my bollocks (pride). This rather sums up my short teaching career.