Mum of 3, ADHD, Ex-Teacher — Why I Chose to Leave the Classroom
This is my personal experience of working with undiagnosed ADHD in a structured workplace.
For a long time, I thought the challenges I faced were about my ability or effort. Looking back, I can see that many of them were actually about how my environment, expectations and support were structured around me.
Teaching Experience
I’d always been good with kids, and teaching others — I guess that personable, creative and observant side of my ADHD helped there.
Also — I love learning. If I could go back to school/uni, I would, all the time. Love it. A teacher of mine once said, “If you love learning, become a teacher.” He was right.
With undiagnosed ADHD, I struggled with time management. I can’t say I didn’t keep on top of marking — I did — but it took up every ounce of my spare time.
Perfectionism was a big thing for me. Constantly trying to improve and be better led to overthinking and overcomplicating lesson plans. The hours I wasted on creating beautiful slides! I definitely worked best when I had a proforma to work with or knew what things should look like.
Then there was the unknown RSD. Within my first year, during an explanation of the appraisal process, the deputy head mentioned the word capability. The metaphorical rug was pulled from under my feet — and that feeling stayed with me for years.
My brain instantly became convinced everyone thought I was rubbish. This created a lack of confidence so big that I began doubting my every move at school. I was constantly trying to prove myself.
My lack of working memory got me into a more than a few scrapes — forgetting parent contact details on residential, forgetting to let the coach company know about a change in pick-up on a different school trip — and mistakes were made on many admin processes too.
The children were fine with me forgetting the date and reminding me the names of things (especially as peri-menopause hit). I was known as the crazy, ditsy, loud and bubbly teacher — until I was told not to be that.
My “Abbyisms”, my loud expressiveness, my interruptions in meetings — they started to be noticed. Frowns, raised eyebrows, comments in conversations and meetings.
During interviews for jobs I didn’t get, I was asked if I thought people took me seriously at work. I hadn’t even considered that.
Slowly, I realised I wasn’t “management material”. That if I wanted to progress, I needed to stop being so… me. I needed to become a version of SLT that would be approved of.
I was always a hard worker — but I worked harder.
ADHD Realisation
After my third child, something changed.
My hormones began to shift. I started taking HRT. Around the same time, I began seeing videos about ADHD and started to recognise myself.
I spoke to my GP, completed a threshold check — and there I was.
Through Right to Choose, I went on a waiting list and used that year to research. By the time my appointment came round, I was 100% sure.
When I finally got the diagnosis, I felt validated and dismayed at the same time.
There were reasons I was different — but also a feeling that I would never be “normal” and couldn’t change the person I thought I was.
Impact
I began counselling, which helped massively. I started to understand myself properly and talk to myself in a much kinder way.
I told my employer. It was taken kindly. The door was always open if I needed support — although I didn’t really know what I needed.
But in reality, very little changed at work.
I still worked too much.
I still felt overwhelmed.
I still doubted myself.
After six weeks off with my children that year, I had the best time. I fully embraced myself for the first time in a long time. Everything felt better.
Then September came.
The first day back — usually one of my favourites — felt completely different. Flat. Boring. I didn’t learn anything. I wasn’t excited.
That night, I had a dream that children came into my house and were taking my husband and children away.
Something had shifted.
Decision to Leave
I knew by the end of my first day at the of teaching that year, that I was done.
After two weeks, I broke down and told my husband I wanted to leave.
The workload.
The sacrifices.
The constant decision-making.
The noise.
The environment.
Once I understood how my brain worked, I realised this wasn’t an environment I wanted to spend the next 20 years in.
I needed to find work that worked with my ADHD brain and nervous system — and with my life as a mum of three.
Somewhere I could be myself, not hide.
I left at the end of the Autumn term.
What Would Have Helped
Looking back, small changes could have made a big difference, early on in my career.
Some of these changes did actually happen, as developments in teaching practice were made or due to changes made by SLT. None of the changes were made due to me or my input though.
If there had been a better understanding of neurodiversity, things like this would have helped:
Clear examples and structured guidance
CPD on creating classroom routines to reduce decision overwhelm and noise
Lists of actions to complete tasks
Written instructions emailed after conversations
Reminders from leaders
Supportive, non-threatening check-ins from someone who understands ADHD
Guidance on time and workload management
Consideration of the physical environment (e.g. acoustics)
Flexibility (e.g. working from home during PPA)
Being accepted and taken seriously as I am
Being appraised on achievements, not personality
A buddy system for checking and clarifying things
What this means for organisations today
Looking back, many of the challenges I experienced weren’t about ability or effort.
They were about how information was structured, how expectations were communicated, and how the environment supported (or didn’t support) the way I worked.
This is something I now see regularly when reviewing workplace training and internal documents.
Often, the content itself isn’t the issue — it’s how it’s presented.
A simple place to start
If you’re reflecting on your own organisation, a good starting point is to look at how your internal documents and training materials are structured.
I’ve put together a short checklist:
“5 simple changes your business can make today to become more neuro-inclusive”
It’s a practical way to:
quickly review your current approach
identify areas that may be harder for staff to engage with
make small, realistic improvements
Download the checklist here
If you’d like to go further
If this is something you’re already thinking about, I support organisations in reviewing training and internal documents so they are clearer, more accessible and easier for staff to engage with.
A common starting point is a short, focused review of one document — providing practical feedback and examples you can apply more widely.
If that would be helpful, you’re very welcome to get in touch.
