My journey from weird to neurodiverse and how that impacts my classroom
If only neurodiversity had been part of the public understanding when I was a child. What might have been different for me? Possibly lots, possibly not much. It’s hard to tell. But understanding my brain as an adult has changed my life for the better and has given me the comfort to talk more publicly about these things.
First off, I prefer to go by “neurodiverse” instead of “neurodivergent” because I don’t like the othering that “divergent” brings to the conversation. Second, neurodiversity is a huge umbrella that lots of people fit under, and as such, we should welcome people to explore their brains and how they best process the world. I don’t have time to exclude folks for not fitting in here either. That’s just exhausting.
So why does it matter that we are finally realizing that there is a spectrum for how brains work and how people learn, process information, and make sense of their world? It matters because so many middle-aged women are finally realizing that there was a reason that they never felt like they fit in. They weren’t (and aren’t) weird. They simply process differently.
It matters because children can be supported in their learning and processing needs instead of being shunned or made fun of for being different.
It matters because society can be more open and allow for differences without being so unkind about it (ok, maybe I’m being hopeful here).
It matters because everyone deserves to feel like they matter and like they belong somewhere. Depression is a hard place to be, and the constant shunning and being made fun of can lead even the strongest neurodiverse person to feel like life isn’t worth it anymore or like they might as well not bother because they’ll never be accepted.
Learning that I was neurodiverse (I completed some testing and then opted out of the rest because of cost reasons) made my life to this point suddenly make sense. I understood my brain. I understood my learning process. And I understood why some social situations are confusing to me. Doesn’t mean that the trauma of the last 4 decades was erased, but it does mean that I had a clearer path moving forward.
At first, I was embarrassed to talk about it. That whole Gen-X thing about keeping your junk to yourself and all. But as I’ve become more comfortable with my own brain, and as I’ve read more about neuroscience, I’ve gotten more comfortable speaking up for myself and for my students.
Bringing this back to teaching, we need to realize (not just know, but actually put into practice) that many of our students are neurodiverse in some way. They may come to class unwilling to participate in traditional ways but may find other places where they excel. Previous generations might not have given those students space to learn in their classrooms, instead condemning the students for not participating “normally” (whatever that means). But acknowledging the differences in our students can allow us to build better, stronger, more inclusive classrooms and assignments. This doesn’t mean “dumbing” anything down. We don’t have to make drastic changes to create welcoming classrooms.
One of my courses changes over the years has been to have students write reading responses that are due before class. Then we have small group discussion and large class discussion. This allows everyone to participate and learn from each other. It helps the introverts not feel pressured to speak in large groups, while also allowing them to explore their ideas on paper and in small groups. It allows the students who didn’t complete the reading for whatever reason to still learn from what others are saying. And it allows the extroverts time to hear others in small groups, and then sharing out for themselves and their group members in large class discussion. Everyone still learns. Everyone still participates. And everyone has space to feel included in the classroom. Slight changes to our classrooms can help students to gain confidence in their own abilities and to ultimately thrive, even in less-than-ideal (for them) situations.
Now that I’ve had over a year to really lean in to who I am and how my brain works, I’ve gained confidence in my own worth. I’ve learned that I’m not weird, I just sometimes need different things to have a pleasant experience. Slight changes (like my friends clarifying for me how to board a Southwest flight) make my life easier and make my days happier. I am more comfortable explaining where I need help and talking to other instructors about where they might recognize neurodiversity in their own students. My stress levels around how my brain works have dropped and my ability to recognize the need for various kinds of spaces in others has increased. I’m thankful to those who were already in this space for welcoming me in, and I am thankful to have a large space to welcome others in as well. Am I still different? Yep. Sure am. But now I can see the beauty in that rather than feel shame and sadness.
