Learning How to Drive Your Neurodivergent Brain: You Don’t Know How if No One Shows You

High achieving students expect that academic learning will come rather easily for them. To be clear: it’s not about arrogance. They expect to work hard, be challenged, and devote a lot of time to figuring things out, but at the end of the day, they expect they will be able to learn the content. 

Put another way, they are justifiably confident of their intellectual abilities. They have a track record of learning experiences that tells them they can do it again, so their self-expectations are high.

How distressing when these academic expectations are suddenly difficult and inexplicably hard to meet. “What’s going on? Why can’t I do this!”

Because the learner’s self-perception rests on this history of success, academic struggles feel embarrassing and shameful. Instead of admitting their struggle and asking for help, they can become defensive and avoidant, compounding the problem, of course. 

And how can you ask for help when you don’t really know what the problem is? The anxiety vortex emerges, reinforced with every instance of unmanaged academic struggle.

For a long time I’ve understood this process intellectually, but a recent situation in my life emphasized the emotional truths suffered by my anxious learners: we bought a campervan.

I’ve driven successfully since I turned 16. Fingers crossed - no accidents to date, rarely a ticket. So, it came as a huge surprise when driving this van scared me. I felt like I had no idea what I was doing (because I didn’t). My cars have all been small. I’d never had to rely on mirrors; parking is a nightmare; if there’s wind, it’s hard to steer on the highway; I’m sure I will run into something I can’t see; I have to concentrate so hard I miss turns; I drive over curves. Suddenly, my driving stinks. I went from confident to petrified. 

My husband, of course, offered his “perspective.” I felt ashamed and defensive: “Don’t tell me how to drive!” But because I secretly knew I had no clue what I was doing, I avoided any opportunity to drive the van, soon becoming too anxious to drive it at all. Eventually, the thought put a pit in my stomach. I got stuck and categorically declined to drive. 

But damn, I really want to travel.

My learners experience this stew of terrible feelings every day in school. But instead of my nice husband, they endure the shame and criticism from a life structure built on their past academic success: grades, teacher perception, parental expectations, shattered career goals. All they want to do is succeed and they can’t.

Or rather, they don’t know how. And that’s the difference. They can, they just need to learn how.

Like driving a van, using strategies to do academics with a neurodivergent brain is a skill. It’s not conceptual. It has nothing to do with content. There’s no shame in not knowing how to do something if you haven’t been taught how. 

Is it shameful that most of us can’t fly a rocket ship? 

The path out of academic anxiety is to recognize the problem is skill-based. It has nothing to do with ability or intelligence. 

Because learning involves using a brain with a track-record of success, teasing apart the difference between neurodivergent skills and intelligence can be confusing. Self-perspective about learning must shift: “I don’t know how to do this right now, but with help and practice over time, I can learn.”

Skill building, alas, doesn’t come instantly; it means accepting a learning curve - time, practice, and building a lot of new habits. Managing these self-expectations can be frustrating for a student who always found learning to be accessible. 

Yesterday I had my first lesson. I still lack skills, of course, but I now have confidence that I will get there. Who knew there is actually a formulaic procedure for backing a van into a parking spot? Not me!

Am I willing to practice with my husband in the car? Not a chance. But I’m pretty sure that I will be ready to share driving for our trip in July. And if it takes longer, so be it. Just like my beautiful learners, there is nothing fundamentally wrong with me. I just don’t know how to do this yet.