Mental Health and Transparency with Students

 In October 2023, after seeking out and going through ADHD testing, I received a formal diagnosis from a psychiatrist. I spent the remainder of last school year thinking through what this diagnosis means for me, exploring medication (and whether that would be helpful for me or not), figuring out systems that are helpful for me as a mom and a teacher with ADHD.

On top of that, I have dealt with mainly facial tics for as long as I can remember (though they affect other parts of my body too). They look like twitching and other uncontrollable movements in my neck and face. It can also look like repeated movements and sounds (like coughing). They tend to get worse when I'm stressed and I can get into periods where it's incredibly hard if not impossible to stop doing those movements or making the sounds I do.

In the past, I have never said anything about my ticks and have gone into the school year hoping that people wouldn't notice. But the longer I taught, suddenly I had students asking me why I made jerky movements or asking if I was angry with them when they'd see a facial tick that distorted my expression. I realized I was unintentionally sending mixed signals. Once I was diagnosed with ADHD though, I felt compelled (maybe with a hint of obligation as well) to say something to my classes and that brought into question whether I would also say something about my tics. 

I spent the summer of 2024 contemplating what the benefits of sharing both of these things might be and if it would make my job harder or easier. Ultimately, I decided it would make things better enough to talk about it. Here's why:

1. Students wouldn't have to question what I was really thinking and feeling because of my struggles. Communication could be clearer.
2. According to the CDC, roughly 10% of 3-17 year olds in the U.S. have been diagnosed with ADHD. Maybe seeing someone with ADHD in a role like teaching that requires a lot of organization and planning ahead could show them some of the possibilities for their life-- nothing is off the table.
3. There would be a better understanding that I'm not doing unhelpful things (like having a messy space or taking a long time to grade things) on purpose. They're just harder tasks for me to accomplish.

At the beginning of each year, I usually play a game of "What Do You Assume?" and have students guess things about me. They can be simple and mundane things, but they're usually things students tend to ask me when given enough time. What's my family like? How long have I been a teacher? Am I married? Do I have kids? But I also have an "other" section where I share other things about me that don't fit into these categories. For example, what movies and shows are my favorite? What am I involved in at my school? These aren't things that I make students guess the answer to, but I'll just share with them because they help solidify with students that I'm human and I have lots of other things happening in my life when I show up for class. So this year, I decided to include my ADHD and tics in my introduction. I shared what "my flavor" of ADHD and tics looked like in me since I am not everyone and both disorders look different from person to person.

At the time of writing this, I have completed the first 14 weeks of the school year (I'm writing this on Thanksgiving Break). That's enough time to form relationships with students, get behind then caught up then even more behind on grading, and form a routine within my own classroom and have feelings about said routine. Here's what I'm noticing:

1. It's not a magic bullet. Just because I shared these things with students doesn't mean that they will approach me with instant understanding when I haven't graded their assignments in three weeks (or longer). They aren't infinitely patient when I ask four or five times what they said after repeatedly not truly hearing/understanding them. They don't automatically get it when I forget things they asked me or told me.
   
   
2. Students watch closer than I think AND/OR Sometimes
   I'm better at masking than I think. I had a student recently who told me he thought I was lying about having tics because he hadn't seen them. They've been there and holy cow, they've been a lot to handle recently with everything that's been thrown my way this school year. Alternatively, another student commented to me that she understood what I meant about tics now because she was seeing them more frequently. Months had passed between the initial conversation and these follow-up comments and yet, this had been simmering in the back of their minds somewhere. There's curiosity especially around my tics. But this makes sense because according to this article, around 1% of people have a tic disorder, so compared to ADHD, it's pretty rare.
   
   
3. I have language to talk about what I'm experiencing. In those times when I'm trying really hard to listen to a student but the language just isn't coming through, I've been known to say something like, "I'm sorry, my brain isn't processing language well today. Can you tell me what you said again?" And it doesn't feel weird or like I'm making an excuse. I'm being real about what's happening in my brain and making it clear that I'm not ignoring students or not listening to students. I'm able to avoid saying "Sorry, I didn't hear you" without having to explain what I mean as an immediate follow-up. It's a small thing, but for me it makes a difference.
   
   
4. I feel like I have to hide less. I still feel negative feelings when I forget things, and struggle to keep my focus, or get stuck in a cycle I feel like I can't get out of with my motor tics, but it's mainly because I've caught myself, not because I've been called out by a student. Both are not-good feelings, but I can deal with the feelings that come from within myself better that I can deal with the external reminders, if that makes sense. I don't have to have a recovery period of "it's fine, no seriously, everything is fine" like I tried to do before. So my discomfort doesn't last as long as it used to.

All of this is not to say that everyone should go out and disclose what's going on with their bodies and brains if they work in a people-facing type of job. If anything, I'm more aware of just how personal of a decision this is. I think ultimately for me, even with the awkward moments, it was worth it. I feel like I'm living a more honest life while at work. And that feels really good.

Snow Days

This week we had three snow days in a row.  I'm struggling to think of a time when I've had that many weather-related days off in the past.  We got absolutely dumped on.  I think I heard the Twin Cities got about 15" in the span of two days.  This third snow day we got off because the roads were still so bad and they wanted to allow time to clean up.  

Well, I say "day off," but they were technically e-learning days.  That just means I had to post an assignment or prompt on Google Classroom and then be available to students if they had any questions or were having trouble navigating the day.  But it's definitely not a normal day of teaching, by any means.  Not even close.  About half of my students checked in online each day.  

I got to the point where I was literally sitting in my house thinking, "When are we actually going to get back to school?" and I remembered the early days of the pandemic when we were constantly told, "We're going back next week.  It's just two weeks away and then we'll be back."  I mean, we knew we'd go back to school sooner rather than later this time because we were only away for snow reasons, but still.  I found myself slipping back into some old habits.  I did some catching up on grades.  I did a lot of laundry.  I did a lot of dishes.  This time I played with my son and we worked on potty training, which wasn't a thing that was going on the first time.  But then I got restless.  I played video games for the first time in months.  I watched a lot of "trash" TV (my words, not an actual category on Netflix).  I didn't leave my house for five days straight (I went to the zoo on Friday and didn't go out again until Wednesday to shovel a way to my car, which I didn't end up needing for another day.

I'm really glad that I like being home.  For some people, home can be a miserable place or just a spot to lay your head at night-- nothing special.  Home is where I thrive because so much of what I like to do is home-based.  But sometimes that makes it hard for me to actually want to leave my house.  This week I felt myself getting nervous about going back to school, which was interesting to me because this year is so much better than last year.  I don't feel like I have the level of school-based anxiety that I did last year.  But I still wasn't exactly looking forward to going back.  When I get to stay home, I love the routine I get to have.  I love my slow mornings and having time.  I love seeing the house get gradually brighter as the sun comes up.

We only have one day of in-person school this week and I'm already mourning the loss of my slow mornings, though I did try and hang on to some of that today.  I lit a candle and drank my coffee while adjusting my slides and plans for today.  I still have my Christmas tree up and I have string lights in my front window-- they look so beautiful in the dark living room, they just make me happy.  I like my job a lot, but I'm really glad that I love being home and creating a life for myself and my family there.  I love that I have a source of joy outside of work.

Snow days are nice and winter break was truly soul-lifting.  I'm ready to go back to school now and I hope I'm in a better place to inject more positivity into my school life.