Professors with ADHD can be brilliant in lectures and interested in students, but struggle to implement systems to get the more mundane, but necessary, tasks done – like uploading syllabi to the university server on time, clearing out that email inbox, and keeping grade logs up-to-date (Dixon Life).
You mean to tell me there are others out there? Professors with ADHD? I don’t know how many exactly, since most of the web pages that come up when looking for stats on professors with ADHD are all about college students with ADHD and professors who don’t know how to teach them. Luckily, I found this quote from a Life Coach website as I was searching for a strong epigraph.
Indeed, my email box is bursting at the seams. I’m not behind on papers though, not too bad, since I’ve realized I’m most efficient when I grade no more than 2-3 papers at a time, even if it means marking two papers before yoga and two papers after yoga. Probably one of the most obvious signs of my ADHD that (luckily) is only visible to my students, is the never ending collection of documents and presentations they must sift through in order to find the reading due for next class. My Course Documents section on Blackboard is not unlike a never-ending Facebook page with items ranging from PowerPoints on Detailed Writing to psychology articles to poems to YouTube interviews. “You’ll find it in there somewhere,” I always say.

Let’s see…what else gives me away? 1. My fidgeting during meetings. 2. My inability to wear a blazer or a pencil skirt. I still rock my Vans, thank you. Why can’t athliesure wear be considered professional attire? 3. The fake smile I wear on the days I feel I really shouldn’t be in the world. aka working while you’re depressed 4. My imposter syndrome. 5. The raucous music I listen to very loudly as I park my car amongst the students. 6. My own lectures bore me, even if my polite and non-neuro-divergent students assure that it was in fact very interesting and helpful. 7. My long uncut hippie hair. 8. My MFA. 9. My addiction to exercise. Must have more dopamine! 10. My bleeding cuticles, picked and chewed by yours truly–a sign of a) a boring day b) a scary stressful day.
While I wear some red flags throughout my day to day, and I know my “intense, hyperfocused” energy can be a lot for my colleagues, students seem attracted to it like moths to the floodlight out back. Indeed, maybe we are “brilliant in lectures;” probably because we can’t bear to bore ourselves. I don’t eat lunch during my 4 class stretch, just coffee. “It’s an adventure to get through them all! It’s a workout. Must complete this mission,” I explain to my worried husband. He doesn’t understand that in order to get through 4 classes, they must be the most exciting classes ever, the freshest, most innovative, most engaging, the most exhausting! There’s no time to sit and eat.

Alas, I still have to rely PowerPoint for some things.
I do hit the neuro-typical marks though. I get high evaluation scores. Good feedback from the higher ups. I do my best to help my department’s sense of community. I turn in my paper work ahead of the deadlines. I have good manners. I try to go to events (probably I don’t do enough of this). Yet, I still feel that I don’t belong. Regardless of the fact that my psychiatrist literally just said to me, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing everything society wants you to do.” I am, aren’t I? I really am.

Then, why do I feel so isolated? Why do I feel like I’ve been carrying around this big dark hole of a secret in my chest for ten years? What if I just sent out an email to the department listserv: Dear colleagues. You know how I’m always awkward? You know how I’m always hyper? You know how at meetings I always have my hand up? You know how one minute I’m sharing ideas like a boss and the next I’m hiding behind “camera off” so I can be curled up in a ball under a blanket feeling like I’m all wrong during a Zoom meeting? Well, it’s because I have ADHD. I have it, you guys. An ADHD-er has infiltrated your ranks of higher education, and I’m here to bring it down to Earth level with my learning disability. Also, I’d like you all to know how much I have struggled to get here and stay here. PS-I know I should apply for a senior lectureship, but my social anxiety keeps me from doing so. Thanks! Have a great week. Best, Prof. HM.
Clearly, I can’t send out this crazy email. But, can I disclose my disability? To whom could I disclose it too? Should I disclose it? Should academic institutions know when their faculty have learning disabilities? Does it matter. Should it? Why do I need to disclose this? Would this even help me?
I know it helps my students to disclose. They are offered extra time and frankly, more grace. I don’t think I need more time, but maybe some grace?
Okay, fine, not grace, but how about a resource or a sense of community for neuro-divergent educators? There’s got to be a place and a space for us somewhere in higher ed. Supposedly, ADHD is a superpower. Imagine if higher ed harnessed that power.

FYI this is my first time publishing on this blog for years. I don’t even know if I had kids when I last published. I’m excited and curious what’s to come. Thanks for reading.