The classroom is buzzing. Kids chatter, pencils scratch, and the bell hums in the background. But inside my head, it is a damn rave. Thoughts sprinting, reminders screaming, that weird panic about a missed email, and the eternal question: Did I leave the iron on? Meanwhile, a student waves their hand in front of me, waiting for an answer I cannot quite grasp.

Teaching with ADHD feels like trying to conduct an orchestra where half the instruments are in my brain and all of them are playing different songs at once. I am expected to be the calm in the chaos, the beacon of structure, but often I am wrestling with the noise inside while trying to manage the noise outside.

I am nearly at the end of my first ECT year and still trying to figure out how to do this teaching thing without losing my mind. I teach science which means behaviour management is not just about keeping kids in their seats but about keeping them safe around equipment that could seriously hurt someone if they get distracted.

Spoiler alert: managing behaviour when you have ADHD yourself is like juggling flaming torches while riding a unicycle. And I am terrible at it.

I do not know if I am bad at behaviour management but I feel like I am. Some days I think I am too soft because I let things slide. Other days I wonder if I am too strict and just cannot find the right balance. Honestly, it is a mess. My mentor tells me I am organised which I do not always see. Maybe it is just the fear of failing that pushes me to keep things in order on the surface even if inside my brain is scrambling to catch up. Sometimes I feel like I am making it up as I go along and maybe I am.

I worry that colleagues think I am excusing poor behaviour. To me, it feels like I am the one seeing a kid in crisis who just needs to feel safe. And yes, I get it I can be way too empathetic for my own good. But these are not just kids misbehaving. I teach a wide range of students but I seem to attract the ones who are really struggling. The ones who show up carrying more than just homework on their shoulders. Kids with unstable home lives, complex needs and chaos that no classroom rulebook can fix.

These students do not need to be invisible. Sometimes they are over-seen by the system in ways that miss the point entirely. What they really need is patience, understanding and someone who gets it, someone who does not just tick boxes but actually sees them.

There is not a single moment when my ADHD takes over in class. It is a constant background noise in my head that never switches off. I am always distracted, overwhelmed and scrambling to focus. Some days it feels like trying to run a marathon with weights tied to my legs. Teaching adds another layer, more things for students to fiddle with, more distractions all around. That extra chaos makes it even harder to keep my brain on track but I am learning to navigate the madness bit by bit.

I love teaching but I am not going to pretend I am good at it yet. It can feel like a thankless job when students do not seem to be listening or learning. Some days the frustration creeps in and I question if I am making any difference at all. But I keep showing up because I believe in these kids even when it is hard to see their potential through the noise. Then there are moments, like the other day, when a student gives you a card telling you that they appreciate you and it makes it so much better.

So yes, my brain is louder than my students. But I am here. Trying. And hoping that is enough.