"Open your eyes, and then open your eyes again:" An Autoethnography of a Mathematics Educator with Undiagnosed ADHD

I started attending school early at my mom’s preschool, so maybe I was fulfilling some predetermined destiny when I finally became a teacher myself. To me, though, it was more serendipitous; I never wanted to be a teacher. I was an independent woman intent on following my interests and opportunities. The path to earning my PhD in Mathematics Education was filled with twists and roadblocks, all of which have made me a better mathematics educator. I am good at what I do, but I think I could be better. As it turns out, after doing the reflection and data mining required of an autoethnographer, I have realized that I have not been as independent as l thought. For the first time in my life, with extra demands and without the support I have grown accustomed to, I am struggling. Supporting myself and my neurodivergent family is a challenge. I think I have ADHD, but it is hard to convince my therapist when I have accomplished so much, especially since she does not know how much my family has helped me along the way. So, I remain undiagnosed. “‘If she is a true hag, she’ll find a way hersel’. We all ha’ to dree our weird. Whatever’s out there, she’s got to face it. If she canna, she’s no true hag’” (Pratchett, 2005, p. 301). I see myself in my daughter, and I want to provide her with similar scaffolding to what I received as a child, but I also want to allow her to be true to herself. Ironically, it is the work of becoming and being a mathematics educator that has provided me with the most insight into my struggles. Conversely, it is my background, and I think my ADHD brain, that has made me such a strong educator. The realizations I have made in this autoethnographic journey have been my call to action to help support neurodivergent students and educators, including my daughter and myself.