I’m starting this post with a full disclosure. My parents are wonderful, caring, and loving people. They only ever wanted what was best and for us to be happy. The stories I am about to share are only from my perspective. It does not make me right or wrong, it doesn’t make their decisions right or wrong, just as it doesn’t make your belief about my situation right or wrong. My intent is to bring awareness and share what I’ve learned (and continue to learn) about myself over the past year, in hopes to bring just one more perspective to yet another ongoing controversy.
I was lucky enough to be born into a family that gave me an older sister. Someone to play Barbies, Littlest Pet Shops, Power Rangers (which she had to be the pink one and then by default I had to be yellow) and Polly Pockets with. A sister whom I could raid her closet in the morning after she had gone to school, borrow a cool Mudd t-shirt to wear to school, and then sneak it back to it’s place before she came home that night. Overall, a sister to look up to and idolize. Especially in school.
My sister was a straight A student and my parents never had to worry about her. Parent teacher conferences? No problem. ACT scores, amazing. Scholarships? You betcha. And with me being the little sister, I wanted to be just like her. Not even just with grades but outside of grades too, like learning to play the piano, singing in choir and playing in band. I was walking in her footsteps.
I did pretty well in elementary school (A’s and B’s mostly). I had a lot of “Jen really likes to socialize” on my report cards, my desk was always disorganized, but I did enough to get by. I even had some of my sister’s teachers who would mistakenly call me by her name. And then 5th grade math happened. I managed to get a C on my first quarter report card. I remember looking at the pink carbon copy paper and I wanted to vomit. My parents were going to freaking kill me. I honestly think I hid it from them as long as I possibly could have.
I wish I could remember the outcome of that parent teacher conference that quarter. But something had to have come out of it because I at least got my grade up to a B and maintained it the rest of the year. This C was just the tip of the iceberg. The transition from elementary school to middle school was one of the hardest transitions of my life and it all started spiraling downhill from there.
I thought my 5th grade desk was a mess. You should have seen my 6th grade locker. There had been multiple times that my parents had to come with me to help me clean out my locker because it was so messy. I could not find any of my homework assignments let alone a pencil. It was a miracle if I could even shut it. 6th grade was the year of “highlights” (if you were late you got a highlight mark in your agenda, if you didn’t do a homework assignment you got a highlight) and you couldn’t get more than 5 highlights a quarter or you couldn’t participate in that quarter’s incentive (movie, dance, bowling, etc.). I think I counted 20 highlights in one quarter, so obviously I didn’t get to go to any incentives in 6th grade. For every highlight, you had to get your parents to initial it. It still makes me sick thinking about having to tell them yet again that I was not doing well in school, I may have even forged their initials once or twice. I remember the outcome of that first parent teacher conference in 6th grade.When my mom and dad came home I could tell my mom had been crying. They were not used to this behavior and I know that they had no idea what to do with me. I didn’t know what to do with me.
I started “getting sick” before school so I could skip out on Math class because I hated it or I didn’t have my school work done. I would try to focus so hard on some classes that when I would come home from school, all I would do was sleep. I was easily bored and had difficulty following directions. But yet in classes that I really liked I had A’s. My parents said that I would play games on the computer, watch TV, and listen to music at the same time. I remember talking to my school guidance counselor and (I’m not sure if that’s where the idea stemmed) my parents decided to have me tested for ADD, because all the traits I listed above are signs of ADD.
I remember being told that if I took a 4 hour test and if the diagnosis came back positive that I had ADD, I could then be put on a medication that would help me focus and do better in school. To be honest, I don’t really remember if there were any other alternative options given to me to potentially give me the help I desperately needed. But I was so desperate to fix the problem(and fix me), and become the straight A student that everyone wanted me to be, that I remember trying to pick the answer on the 4 hour test that would prove to everyone that I had ADD. That way I could finally get the help and the cure to make me successful and accepted again.
A month later I had my first prescription of Adderall filled.
Part 2. Part 2!