Wednesday, September 13, 2017

All Hail

I stopped dead in the doorway, suppressing surprise and giggles but letting the smile right out.  My coworker's eyebrows arched, asking a question that needed no verbalization.

Why did all your students just fall out of their seats as though they are worshiping a king?

I called on a student who confidently explained that as part of our discussion regarding the Aztec king Moctezuma II, we had learned that no one was allowed to look him in the eyes and that even his highest nobles fell on their faces when he entered a room.

A very valid POINT A, to be sure, but I could tell my colleague needed a little more guidance to get her to the point where all my students were on the floor.

I took over, letting the words tumble like they do when I am excited - an overwhelming occurrence I have recently learned is a gift from the ADHD gods.  Although I am certain my syntax was littered with prepositional phrases and transitions and whatnot, I image she caught only a fraction of it.  The students wanted to hail the principal like she was the king.  I thought it unlikely the principal would happen upon our lesson.  I extended their idea to include any adult who walked in.  I didn't think anyone would walk in.

And then ADHD gift number two: I had forgotten entirely that we'd had this conversation, left the classroom to grab said coworker for a consult on a classroom issue, then walked back in - accidentally satisfying all the conditions of the deal to which I had just agreed.

And so I had twenty-six proud, quiet students, all-hailing-the-king in the general direction of the doorway and an incredible, albeit accidental, object lesson they won't likely forget.

I bet that somehow makes it into the answers on the essay test!

Thursday, May 11, 2017


I got the official diagnosis 10 days ago: combined type ADHD.  Today is my ninth day using medication to make my brain function a little more neuro-typical.  Grateful to have a lot of control over how much I am taking and when, I have felt an awful lot like Dr. Jekyll as I take copious notes about the changes I observe in my own mind.

Some things are leveling out.  Being on the medication doesn't feel as alien anymore.  I am getting used to the calmer focus, the quieter mind, the more linear processes.  I now know what it is like to teach medicated.  To go to church medicated.  To attend a social event medicated.  If you're interested to know more, set aside a whole afternoon and ask me.  I'll happily word vomit all over you about it.  

But even as I acclimate, there are still lots of firsts.

Tonight I browsed Facebook for the first time medicated.  Oh, sure, I've checked it in the last nine days.  But this time I had a few minutes to actually read some posts.  Some comment threads.  Click some articles.

And I am baffled.  

read comment threads.  All the comments.  In order.

I read an article I was interested in, clicked back, and continued scrolling.  

It's like that awesome day when you come out of the eye doctor wearing your once-again-accurate prescription contacts and the trees seem to have so many more leaves than you ever knew.

- - - - - - 

This is also the first time I have written medicated.  And it is just like I feared.  

I tilt my head as if somehow willing the thoughts to flow from brain to fingers to screen as they generally so effortlessly do.

But I hear nothing but quiet.