Transitioning to College with ADHD

I recently came across an article online titled, “Teens With ADHD May Need Help Transitioning To College.”   As a person with ADHD, the title of the article seemed like an understatement to me.  I thought back on the first semester of my freshman year in college when I was overwhelmed with the many transitions in my life.              

I went on to read the article, which turned out to have some very helpful study tips for college freshmen with ADHD.  If you are a college student or a college-bound high school student with ADHD or similar disabilities, or the parent, teacher, or friend of one; I highly recommend reading this article.

In addition to the tips in the article, I also would recommend that teens with ADHD and similar disabilities begin their transition to college while they are still in high school. Transitions tend to be particularly difficult for people with ADHD, and the first semester in college is one of the biggest transitions in a person’s life.  Not only are college freshmen transitioning to a new school, new surroundings, and new classmates; but for most people, it’s also the first time they have ever lived away from their family and the home they have known their whole life.  While many freshmen are eager to move out and be independent, experiencing so many changes in a short time can be quite daunting for someone with ADHD. 

You can start preparing for college by educating yourself about your disability and the accommodations you will need to succeed in college. When you go to visit colleges, schedule an appointment to meet with someone in the campus office that provides accommodations to students with disabilities. Some colleges call it the Disability Services Office or the Center for Students with Disabilities; while other colleges offer these services from the Academic Dean’s office.  During this appointment, don’t let your parents do all the talking.  Your parents won’t be there to advocate for you in college, so use the time to practice self-advocacy. Tell the person at the college the name of your diagnosis and any accommodations you may need; and ask him or her about the services they provide for students with disabilities.  This will be good practice for when you are in college and need to ask professors for accommodations.

Speaking of which, don’t be shy about letting professors know that you have disabilities and need accommodations.  As the article stated, some students are hesitant to ask for the help they need because of the stigma surrounding ADHD.  However, if you don’t speak out, you will not get the services that you need and that you have a LEGAL RIGHT to obtain under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).  The ADA also makes it illegal for a professor, teacher, or boss to discriminate against you for having ADHD or any other disability. So, don’t be afraid to speak out. The law is on your side!

Matt*, a young man with ADHD, agrees about the importance of reaching out to your professors. He offers the following advice to college students with learning issues, “Meet deadlines, meet the professors, and most of all reach out for help when you need it because no one will throw you a life line when you are drowning if you don't splash around a bit.” Although Matt did well in high school and made good grades, he struggled when he got to college without having his parents around to keep him on track. He eventually transferred to another college, where he graduated with honors and made the Dean’s List every semester. Matt is now a successful accountant in Washington, DC, where the readers of a local paper voted him as one of the area’s top businessmen.  He credits a large part of his success to recognizing that he needed help and not being afraid to ask for it.  

Should you disclose to your roommates and friends that you have ADHD? It is entirely up to you, of course, but remember that having ADHD is nothing to be ashamed of.  If you decide to be open about your diagnosis, you don’t need to say to every person you meet, “Hi, my name is _____ and I have ADHD!” but you may wish to tell your roommates and maybe a few close friends.  I recommend that you say something like, “Oh, just so you know, I have Attention Deficit Disorder, so if you ever catch me staring off into space or not paying attention to you, don’t be alarmed and don’t think I’m ignoring you on purpose.”

As a college freshman, I was reluctant at first to tell my peers about my ADHD. In retrospect, I regret that decision, because they often thought I was deliberately tuning them out or not paying attention to them, and they thought I was rude and didn't want anything to do with me.  As a result, I was very lonely for most of my first semester and didn't have many friends. When I finally gained the courage to tell my peers about having ADHD, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that no one shunned me or thought less of me.  Instead, they were grateful that I was honest about myself.    

Matt agrees about the importance of disclosing.  He says, “When I was young, I learned that it was nothing to be ashamed of so, throughout high school and even into college I sort of laughed it off and joked about it. That seemed to put others at ease.”

It is also important to attend every single class. Many incoming college freshman think that they will be able to get away with skipping classes without anyone noticing; as professors don’t take attendance like teachers do in high school. However, if you deliberately skip your classes, you will miss out on important information, you won’t learn anything, and when it comes time for the final exam, you’ll get an F. One reason why I was able to do well in college and graduate in four years was because I attended all my classes. The only time I skipped class was when I was too sick, and on those days I made sure to contact my professors or another student in the class to find out what I missed. 

Another factor that contributed to my success in college was living in substance free housing. I had to be cautious about consuming alcohol as it would have a negative interaction with my ADHD medication. If you are on similar medication, you might choose to live in a substance free dorm, with other people who have chosen to abstain from drinking or at least to only drink in moderation. This way, you will avoid peer pressure from your roommates and hall mates to drink.  Some people will tell you that drinking is part of the whole college experience, but it doesn't have to be. While I can’t say that I never partied in college, I only had one drink per night if I drank at all.  The residents of my dorm were allowed to attend parties in other dorms on campus; as long as we did not return to the building visibly intoxicated.

I sometimes wondered, “When I am older, will I look back on my college years and regret that I didn't party more?” Today, as I think back to my time as a college student, I can honestly say that I have no regrets. I never passed out or threw up from drinking too much, and I never woke up in a stranger’s bed wondering where I was. I never had to be sent to the hospital for alcohol poisoning, I never had a hangover, and I never did anything embarrassing like stripping in public or drunk-dialing an ex-boyfriend because I was intoxicated. Instead, I remember my college years as a time of personal, spiritual, and intellectual growth; when I made many wonderful friendships that have lasted to this day and will continue to last for the rest of our lives, and when I learned to accept myself and to stop being ashamed of my differences and to live life to the fullest.

My final piece of advice is to be patient and flexible. It takes time to get acclimated to new surroundings and new people. Don’t be concerned if it takes you a while to make new friends or feel at home. Get involved in activities on campus, and keep an open mind.  While my initial transition to college was very stressful, my college experience turned out to be among the most wonderful times of my life.

I hope that someday you can say the same.

*Names have been changed.

By Becky Rizoli

“These Are the Days of Miracle and Wonder” - Paul Simon

Make no mistake; November 2012 was an historic month. The momentous news began on Tuesday, November 6^th, and continued over the next several days but it had nothing to do with the election. On that day, my daughter Grace, a 25-year-old adult with Down syndrome, had her annual Individual Support Plan (ISP) Meeting. The meeting has been held each year since she entered the world of adult services and includes staff from the program she attends, a representative from the Massachusetts Department of Developmental Services (DDS), Grace, her mother and myself.

During the meeting, the Career Development Coordinator at her program mentioned the possibility of some leads coming together that could result in a job interview for Grace. We’d been hearing this for a few years so the news was met with cautious optimism at best.

By Thursday, the phone call came: Grace had a job interview scheduled for next Tuesday at a small local chain restaurant to become a lunchtime hostess. The schedule for the position would be 2-3 days per week, 2-3 hours per day. If you listen closely, you can hear the heavenly tones of a host of angels singing. The majority of you can’t hear it; but the few who can know exactly what I’m talking about.

On Friday of that week, while the rest of the country was either rejoicing at the election results, or wringing their hands over what might have been, I found myself driving to work almost being brought to tears thinking about the real possibility of Grace welcoming patrons to a restaurant and showing them to their table. I felt chills when I shared the news with a friend at work.

It’s been 25 years, 8 months, 25 days, and 13 hours since Grace was born. It’s been 25 years, 8 months, 25 days, 12 hours and 40 minutes that we’ve lived with the knowledge of Grace having Down syndrome. Twenty minutes after she was born, the pediatrician we had chosen from a Fort Myers, Florida Yellow Pages advised us that because of Down syndrome, Grace would never walk or talk, and would not live very far into her teenage years. We probably shouldn’t even take her home was his advice.

His three options, in order of his preferences, were 1) put her in an institution where she would be “well cared for”; 2)  put her up for adoption, “there are lots of loving foster parents out there who would accept her into their home,” (a very curious suggestion looking back at it); or 3) “take her home with you”.

We chose Door Number 3. Nostradamus he was not.

Grace not only walks and talks, she slices and dices. She can dance circles around most adults (tap, jazz, she is adept at many) and impresses everyone with her technological know-how, including programming apps on her iPhone5. She is active in a social club, plays sports year round, and has favorite TV shows. Curious about who came in 6^th in America’s Next Top Model Cycle 12? Grace knows.

What had been lacking in her life was purpose. I know her purpose in the grand sense; I found mine thanks to her. I mean she lacked her own purpose. All she really wanted was to get up in the morning and go someplace where she could be a contributing member of society. It was such a simple request, yet a very complicated challenge.

How big was this job interview news within our family? Her mother, stepmother and I were ABUZZ since we had heard. We coached Grace with tips on how to interview appropriately, bought nice clothes for the meeting, strategized about the transportation for the day. This was BIG.

The following Tuesday, November 13^th, she interviewed for the first real job of her adult life. A few days later Grace was hired to be the lunchtime hostess at the restaurant. Cue the angels again.

A week or so later, I picked Grace up at the end of her first day on the job. I asked how her day was. She began by describing all of the tasks for which she was responsible. After discussing her day, including the best part to her — the discount employee lunch menu — she sat back in her seat very contented. I sensed she was contemplating, replaying her first day on the job. After a few moments, she blurted out, “Today was AWESOME!”

There aren’t many things in life which excite Grace to the point of “awesome”. Accomplishing her goal of employment and earning her own paycheck clearly is one of them. Awesome indeed.

Woody Allen said, “80% of success is showing up.” Grace has been showing up for over 25 years. She is beyond ready to enjoy her next success. This is the chance of a lifetime for her. It’s funny how the seemingly simplest things in life can be the most profound.

 By John Sullivan

Kindness of Strangers

My 11 year old son Ryan has ASD. When he was younger, things were a lot harder. We’d usually hit a spot during the day when he’d turn into the Tazmanian Devil if something didn't go his way, and it would take most of the day to recover from that (for both of us).  As I look back, I feel grateful that The Taz doesn't show up as much as he use to and most days are good days.

However, on the morning of Ryan’s 11^th birthday, we were visited by the Taz at Dunkin' Donuts because they were out of Ryan’s favorite drink. It was a bad morning. I was trying to quickly remind Ryan about all of the coping skills he’s learned while he defiantly body surfed on the table and yelled out “YOU KNOW THAT’S THE ONLY DRINK I LIKE HERE! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, MOM! I NEED MY DRINK!” We were getting all kinds of stares and I saw a few people shake their heads in disapproval because I knew we looked like a spoiled brat and a mother who had lost control. After a while, I physically dragged Ryan out of the store and wondered for the millionth time why we couldn't just do a simple task that others probably take for granted.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, a man who had been in the store pulled up next to me and motioned for me to put my window down. I could feel my blood pressure rise.  Against my better judgment, I put my window down. I was ready to hear this man tell me that I was a bad parent, and that Ryan was spoiled and that parents like me were what was wrong with this world. I was ready to take my anger out on this guy. I was going to let him have it. I was going to yell that I’ve been given more than I can handle and he should mind his own business and be grateful he can enter and exit a store without causing a scene. Oh, I was ready. Bring it, Mister.

Instead, the man said “Hey. It looks like you were having a hard time earlier and I just wanted to say hang in there.” I almost couldn’t process his sentence. Hard time. Hang in there. “Well, he has Autism, so …”, I stammered. This kind stranger answered with “Ah, my nephew does too. It’s really hard on my brother. Hang in there.” Hang in there. I couldn’t believe it. I wondered how many other people in the store weren’t judging, but were maybe feeling bad for us and wondering how they could help.

The man pulled away and I looked at Ryan and said “Let’s try this again” and we went back in. He used his coping skills to settle on water for his drink and thanks to the kindness of a stranger, Ryan and I had a nice morning. 

By Mary-Ellen Kramer

Not Letting Disability Stand in the Way of Success

If you have a disability, you may feel that you’ll never reach your potential or be as successful as your friends without disabilities. You probably have been frustrated as you see your classmates accomplish tasks and goals more quickly than you do, and wonder if you are destined for a life of failure and disappointment.

However, many people with disabilities have gone on to lead successful, productive lives full of personal and professional accomplishments. Chances are, you’ve even heard of some of them!

Justin Timberlake has OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) as well as ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). He first gained fame in the late 1990′s as a member of boy band N’Sync, perhaps best known for their hit song “Bye Bye Bye.” After N’Sync broke up in the early 2000′s, Timberlake went on to become one of the biggest celebrities of the 21st century. In addition to writing, producing, and releasing two solo CD’s of his own, he has also starred in a number of highly successful movies including The Social Network and Friends with Benefits, written and produced songs for other artists, and won multiple awards, including three Emmys and six Grammys. Other celebrities with OCD include actor Leonardo DiCaprio, soccer player David Beckham, and actress Megan Fox.

Michael Phelps was diagnosed with ADHD as a young boy. He had so much trouble sitting still and paying attention in school that his teachers told his mother that he would never be able to focus on anything. He was able to channel his energy into swimming, and went on to become a competitive swimmer.  He proved his teachers wrong by winning 19 gold medals in the Olympics and breaking the Olympic record.  Other celebrities with ADHD include “Dancing With The Stars” finalist Karina Smirnoff, actor and rapper Will Smith, actor and comedian Jim Carrey, and pop superstar Britney Spears.

Samuel L. Jackson had a serious stutter as a child. At the suggestion of his speech therapist, he got involved in acting as a way to improve his speech. He grew up to become an Academy Award-winning actor, starring in movies such as Pulp Fiction and Shaft.  Other celebrities who once had speech impediments include Bruce Willis and Julia Roberts.

John Mellencamp has spina bifida, a disorder of the spinal column. His disability didn’t stop him from becoming one of America’s most beloved rock singers and a member of the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame. His numerous hit songs include “Small Town,” “Little Pink Houses,” “Jack and Diane,” and “Hurts So Good.”  Other celebrities with spina bifida include Grammy-winning folk/country singer Lucinda Williams and pro golfer Sebi Garcia.

The hit television series Glee includes several cast members with disabilities. Jane Lynch, who stars as cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester, is deaf in one ear. Lauren Potter (Becky Jackson) and Robin Trocki (Jean Sylvester) both have Down Syndrome.  Also, The Glee Project, a reality TV show/talent competition in which the winner gets cast on Glee, included three contestants with disabilities this past summer. Ali Strocker has been paralyzed since she was in a car accident as a toddler, and uses a wheelchair. Charlie Lubeck has ADHD and autism. Mario Bonds is blind. Although none of them won the competition, the disability community became more represented on TV as a result of these three finalists.

So, if you have a disability, think of all that these celebrities have accomplished, and say, “bye bye bye” to the notion that you’ll never be successful!

 

- Authored by Becky Rizoli

Advocacy or Self-Advocacy: There is a Difference

Advocacy. Advocate. Self-advocacy. Advocating. These are the buzzwords in the disability world. The ones thrown around at conferences, IEP meetings and donor banquets. They are important to professionals, parents and people with disabilities. However, they mean different things in all three of these contexts, and that’s not always acknowledged.

When I was a kid, my mom worked a lot with other parents of children with disabilities. She taught them to advocate for their children. I grew familiar with stories about fighting for the accommodations needed to make sure a child “survived and thrived” in school. And even though every parent loves their child exactly as they are—they are still working to raise the bar, the way any parent is. The thing is, parents have a comparison. They have experienced life as an able-bodied person. Maybe they even have other, able-bodied children. Thus, their advocacy becomes about making sure their child has “the same opportunities as any child” and “isn’t seen any differently” than an able-bodied (or “typical”) child would be.

Growing up in this environment taught me a lot about standing up for myself. It taught me that I am entitled to accommodation when I need it. That the playing field can be, and should be, evened. But it did not prepare me for the difference between advocacy and self-advocacy.

I don’t have an able-bodied life to compare mine to, and I no longer have my parents around all the time to make up for the basic aspects of living that my disability makes difficult. When your body makes it difficult to cook, clean or walk to the T, accommodation becomes less about leveling the playing field, and more about getting through the day. Advocacy isn’t about fancy things, like new equipment that will make you the envy of your classmates. It’s about telling your roommates that you can’t lug the trash bag down the stairs. It’s about having to admit that, in fact, your life is different. And not in the, “all-of our-lives-are-different,” or “celebrate uniqueness” way parents talk about. In a very real way, day-to-day living is harder than it is for most people.

One of the elements that always bothered me about parent advocates were the speeches where some parent would talk about mourning the expectations they had for their child. Think of it this way: A kid with cerebral palsy might not play Major League Baseball. But that able-bodied kid the parent dreamed of might not have either. Who knows, the child with CP might. Or they might go on to be a baseball commentator. The possibilities are there.

That’s what parents have to focus on. Their advocacy opens the door for possibilities. That way, when their kid is an adult struggling with the day-to-day tasks of daily living, they’re already on the path toward achievement.  

I know that I can do whatever I want to do. My parents ingrained that in me. They didn’t tell me it’d be this difficult. I’ve had to learn that for myself. And I think that’s as it should be.

- Authored by Chelsey Blair Kendig

Mixing Up the Mainstream

When I entered the school system in 1992, my parents were quick to advocate for my right to be educated inclusively. I was physically, not cognitively, disabled. Had I been put in a segregated classroom, I would have been the only verbal child, and the only mobile child. The school administrators believed I could “set an example.” My mother pointed out that I would have no one to be “my example” and enrolled me in mainstream education.

I benefitted greatly from inclusive education, mostly because there was no reason I shouldn’t. However, I became the only physically disabled child in the classroom for all twelve years of school, plus four years of college.  In Claiming Disability Knowledge and Identity Simi Linton comments on some of the challenges raised by the current model of inclusive education. She argues that it:

“places the mainstreamed children in the awkward position of having to look and act as nondisabled as possible to maintain their position in general education and, as a result, it marginalizes even more the disabled children who can never play those parts. Further, and rarely discussed, mainstreamed children lose the opportunity to be with other disabled children.”

 Linton, Simi (1998-01-01). Claiming Disability (Cultural Front) (Kindle Locations 1017-1019). NYU Press reference. Kindle Edition.”

It’s the second part of this quotation that I wish to focus on, the idea that mainstreaming children keeps them from being able to spend time with their disabled peers. I think this rings true for society in general, not just school. As a kid, I was lucky. My mother worked with other parents of children with disabilities, and we formed a posse of sorts. A group outside of our mainstreamed-school lives, where no one else quite got what it meant to live with a disability. They were the people to whom I could say “Do you ever….?” and the answer would almost always be “yes.” But in school, no one quite got the reason behind my continued absences, the trouble I had keeping up on field trips or the disability terminology I threw around like a second language.

Now that I’m out of the public education system and in the “real world” I find it’s become harder to seek out people with disabilities to relate to. Partially, I think this is a side-effect of the issue Linton raises. Some people with disabilities in the mainstream are encouraged to perform as “nondisabled” and don’t acknowledge that there are aspects of their lives more easily understood by people who have disability in their lives. Disability organizations and support systems I have encountered seem to be populated by those who were not mainstreamed, and were thus allowed to identify as disabled. Yet some of us lead double lives, joking with friends who will pour the soda into the cup for you, but might not quite get how annoying it is to have such crappy fine motor skills.

I don’t think this is the ideal situation. I often look back with longing at the late-eighties when people with disabilities were banding together to fight the civil rights movement. As a nineties-child, one of the ADA generation, I benefited greatly from their struggle, but I also envy their camaraderie. I’m by no means arguing against mainstream education. I’m a product of it. But I shouldn’t have been the only disabled kid on the block. I think it’s important for people with disabilities to support each other, to acknowledge that we can be part of the disability community and successful in a world that isn’t quite as inclusive as it would like to think.

Why Can’t I Just Be NORMAL?

I often talk about being proud to be different. I say that my difference is the very thing that makes me unique and the person who I am, and how important it is for all of us to celebrate our differences, even when those differences are disabilities. I write blog articles about it. I present workshops to teens about it. I even just finished writing a book about it, which is pending publishing. It’s my personal philosophy, and it’s what’s helped me make it so far and accomplish so much.

But I’ll be honest. Sometimes, I wish I could just be normal. I wish I didn’t have to depend on medication just to make it through each day, and go through the hassle of having my doctor write a prescription every month and have it filled at the pharmacy.  I wish that I could focus well enough to safely operate a motor vehicle without being distracted by everything else on the road, and that I didn’t have to rely on family, friends, or public transportation to get from one place to another.  I wish that I could go to a party or a bar, socialize with my friends, and actually have a good time without becoming overwhelmed with all of the sensory overload that everyone else somehow manages to filter out. I wish I could even order a drink or two without worrying about the effect it might have on my medication. 

I look at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, the laundry hamper overflowing with dirty clothes, the constant disarray of my desk and kitchen table covered with “To Do” lists, and feel so overwhelmed with all the little things I haven’t done yet, and that I could easily get done if I could just manage to stop wasting time for just a few minutes. I look at the chaotic mess of my house, which is a perfect metaphor for my chaotic life, throw my hands up in the air, and wonder, “Why can’t I just be NORMAL?“

Oh, I know. I should be strong and practice what I preach to others about being proud of my differences and celebrating myself.  I need to remember the pep talks that others gave to me when I was younger about how my difference can be a gift; about how the very thing that makes me disorganized, inattentive, and messy also makes me creative, intuitive, clever, and how it enables me to make connections that other people miss; and how I should use my situation as an opportunity to educate others and that I have something special to share with the world.  However, being labeled “special” and “different” isn’t always a good thing, and at times I find it to be stigmatizing.

There’s nothing I can do about it.  I’ll always be the way I am, and my disability will never go away. So, I figure, I have one of two choices. On one hand, I can lock myself up in my room and lament my lot in life while listening to depressing music, and go around every day with a frown on my face, leading to premature wrinkles that will make me look ugly and old in about five or ten years; ultimately dragging everyone around me down to the depths of misery as well.

Or, I can choose to accept my difference as a normal and natural part of life, and know that while I may struggle, I am more than just my disability and I refuse to let my disability define me. I can remind myself that while I’m not “normal” in the traditional sense, who I am is what is normal for me; a philosophy shared by the creators of “I am norm.”  Their website, www.iamnorm.org, is a resource created by and for young people with disabilities, and spreads the message that everyone is normal. I have only one life, and I can choose to make the most of it using what I have and all the things I can do, rather than lamenting about the things I can’t. I can use my many gifts to be an inspiration to other people, and hope and pray that my words and my life can make a positive change to other people who are different or who struggle with obstacles.

- Authored by Becky Rizoli