I didn’t think I could succeed in school until I received accommodations for my disability

I have always needed to work 10 times harder than my peers only to feel like I was hardly learning. Teachers commonly said I was not reaching my full potential.

The worst part was that I had no idea how to reach my “full potential.”

I seemed like a solid student on paper: good enough grades, ideal attendance rates, involved in extracurriculars, and college-bound. My only behavioral issue was talking too much. Educators did not seem to recognize I was dealing with a bigger issue.

At the time, I did not know that I had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, commonly known as ADHD, a disability that impacts daily functioning. Inattention, hyperactivity, auditory processing issues, impulsivity, impatience, and poor organizational skills all made school a daily challenge.

I would take pages of notes without any recollection of what I just learned. Lectures did not help me in classes like math or science. Instead, I needed one-on-one support to walk me through each step. Many of my teachers were unable or unwilling to do so. Sometimes they were overburdened, and other times, they reduced my challenges to not reading my notes well enough or not paying attention.

I even struggled in classes I had greater interest in, like English and history. I always enjoyed writing but found reading difficult. I would read entire chapters of books before realizing I did not retain any of the information, making reading too frustrating to enjoy. Lectures were especially challenging, as I struggled to focus and process everything my instructors said.

I did not think most of my teachers believed in me, and ultimately, I stopped believing in myself.

Test-taking was always a nightmare, mainly because my brain concentrated on the sounds of writing pencils and shuffling papers around the class rather than the test in front of me. I felt unequipped to succeed.

These experiences shaped the way I experienced education. I grew to feel resentful and angry at my school, and frustrated with myself. I did not think most of my teachers believed in me, and ultimately, I stopped believing in myself. I wanted to see a world where students did not have to struggle in the same ways I did.

I channeled these frustrations into writing and researching for better ways to support students like me. I was naturally attracted to journalism as a young teen because I wanted to identify injustices, provide a way for people to voice their experiences, and find sensible solutions.

And I am drawn to Chalkbeat’s mission — to report on the effort to improve schools for all children . I became a summer intern at Chalkbeat because I wanted to shed light on ways Michigan’s education system can help students succeed from the perspective of someone who felt her school failed her.

I always envied those around me who could take advantage of federal rules requiring schools to offer accommodations for students with diagnosed disabilities such as longer test-taking times, testing in a separate and quieter environment, using headphones, and even permission to use fidget toys. I knew these resources would help me, but I did not have a diagnosed disability at the time, despite showing clear symptoms of one.

Eventually, my inability to understand course material squashed my interest in learning. Working harder than my peers to get half as far became exhausting and unsustainable. By high school, I no longer saw a point in trying to succeed.

My goal by high school was to show up and get good enough grades to graduate, get into college, and never look back. Finding solace in electives like choir and creative writing or extracurricular activities like leading my school’s debate team motivated me to finish.

At the time I graduated high school in 2019, 13.24% of Michigan students had a disability . But this did not include students like me, whose disability was not diagnosed until after graduation.

Chalkbeat reporting revealed that my experience is similar to many other Michigan students who did not receive disability accommodations during the pandemic , and the many more whose disabilities are never identified due to the under-resourced and overwhelmed system. Others might struggle if the state does not provide funding for mental health support in schools .

When I received my ADHD diagnosis at age 18, I realized the behaviors educators wrote off as not trying hard enough or not reaching my full potential actually stemmed from living with an undiagnosed disability and no accommodations.

My diagnosis helped me better understand my brain and develop the necessary skills to manage my ADHD symptoms. I learned organizational skills that worked with my disability, not against it. Oftentimes, simple solutions like finding outlets for my hyperactivity and using headphones and low-distraction workplaces to complete my school work did the trick.

Most importantly, I sought out accommodations in college. Recording my lectures and requiring subtitles on videos help me follow the material when my auditory processing issues get in the way. Quiet and separate testing spaces have been critical.

I was always capable of succeeding in school; I just needed support. In fact, I largely attribute my passion and creativity, which plays a major role in my work, to my ADHD.

Since receiving accommodations, I have succeeded in ways I didn’t think were possible. My professors describe me as an active participant in class who turns in high-quality work. I am even considering graduate school, something that felt out of reach for most of my life despite always having an interest in research.

I hope my story reminds students with disabilities what they are capable of and that they are deserving of the support they need to thrive.

Alex Klaus is a summer intern at Chalkbeat Detroit. You can reach her at aklaus@chalkbeat.org .