Seen as the Troublemaker, But Never Understood - Written By A.N.S -Age 12

Seen as the Troublemaker, But Never Understood - Honest account of a 12 year old student - Unedited by adult, Sugarcoat Free

My Experience as a Neurodivergent Student in Secondary School

My name is “A.N.S”, and I’m 12 years old, currently in Year 7. Being neurodivergent means my mind works differently from others, but I can’t fully explain what that means for me because I’ve never been inside anyone else’s mind. Not everyone’s brain functions the same way, which makes it tricky to explain my experiences. I often get into trouble more than others, and it feels like it’s always me. People say I talk nonsense and that I need to change, but I’m just being myself—this is how my mind naturally works. I also get in trouble for telling the truth, standing up against things I think are wrong, or simply forgetting things.

Secondary School

Secondary school is a big change, but I didn’t notice it immediately. With more responsibilities came more teachers who didn’t always acknowledge why people like me behave in certain ways. This led to more problems, especially for me. Sometimes, my mum would try to explain my needs to teachers who didn’t recognise them, but this often just made me stand out more—and I hated that. Sometimes, I wonder if a “normal” secondary school experience was ever really an option for me.

At first, secondary school seemed to be going great, but once I started to settle in, I realised how things were truly going to be. I began getting into more arguments, and recently, I even ended up in a fight. I can’t always explain why, but I feel like I’m constantly on edge, worried about all the reasons I might get in trouble. I have no trouble making friends—I have good ones. My issues are largely based on the fact that my behaviour and needs aren’t always acknowledged. I’m not really given the chance to explain why I act the way I do.

In this essay, I hope to share a way of understanding me—for example, why I seem to get into trouble more than others. You need to get to know me before judging my actions. At the end of the day, I am a normal kid, but my mind just works slightly differently. That doesn’t mean I should be singled out—it just means I experience the world in my own way.

Early Years

I started primary school in one school but later moved to a different one, where I spent most of my primary years. I only spent a couple of years in my first school because my needs weren’t being met. I would always finish my work early but still get told off for things like speaking out or not completing work the “correct” way. By the time my needs were finally acknowledged, it was too late—I had already been singled out, which led to students isolating me. This completely ruined my early primary school experience.

When I started primary school, it was also a very uncomfortable environment, and I was unlucky with the people around me. None of them were like me, and I struggled to connect with them. To me, they all seemed odd, but at the same time, I seemed odd to them too. This made it even easier for them to single me out.

Masking

Masking – covering your true identity and true self.

Masking was a big part of my experience throughout primary school, even in my second school, where I fitted in better. To be honest, I still do it a bit now. Masking isn’t usually a good thing, as people do it for validation, but sometimes it happens subconsciously if you’ve been doing it for so long. You don’t have to be neurodivergent to mask—everyone does it at some point.

The safer I felt in an environment, the less I masked and the more I showed my true self. By “safe,” I mean being understood and feeling mentally secure. But I got so used to masking that it changed my identity slightly, shaping who I am today.

School Switch

When I switched schools, I began thriving, becoming the top-achieving student in most classes. I couldn’t have done the same at my old school because no one believed I could achieve anything. Instead, students were praised simply for being quiet.

At my first primary school, curiosity was seen as annoying, and asking questions was treated as arguing. Personally, I ask a lot of questions—I like to make sure I fully understand a task before I start. In my second primary school, curiosity was seen as a good thing, and students who asked questions usually got the best results.

My teachers took the time to understand me—to learn how I acted and why. They also helped me understand them, which made things ten times easier for both sides.

The Transition to Secondary School

My transition from primary to secondary was filled with excitement. I felt ready for secondary school, and at first, that’s exactly how it seemed. But once I settled in, things changed. Teachers started showing their true colours—before, they had to be nice and lenient to the new Year 7s, but once we had settled in, many became much harder for me to deal with.

This led to me talking back, arguing, and struggling in lessons. Some teachers told me that I needed to change. I tried—believe me, I did—but it felt impossible.

My Fears and Anxieties

My fears and anxieties about secondary school are long-term.

If I keep getting in trouble and my academic performance keeps dropping, will I still be able to succeed in life? Will these teachers not meeting my needs really impact my future? These are questions I frequently ask myself, and they constantly play on my mind.

My Expectations vs My Reality

I expected to go into secondary school and be acknowledged for my knowledge and intelligence while still being treated like any other child. I expected people to understand that sometimes I can be disruptive, but that it’s not intentional—I’ve been trying to change.

 But the reality is that it all gets dismissed. When I’m disruptive, I’m just seen as a disruptive child—no questions asked. There’s no “maybe I should have a word with him” or “maybe this is why he’s acting out.” It’s just straight-up, “Get out” or “You’re being sent out.”

Social Experience

Socially, I have no trouble with friendships. I have one best friend, a main group of friends, and I’m surrounded by people who understand me and are genuinely kind.

My second primary school made it easier for me to make friends and improved my social skills. It also helped me communicate better with teachers. However, in secondary school, I rarely get the chance to talk to teachers, let alone get to know them.

Sometimes, I struggle with knowing when to talk, how to talk in certain situations, and how my tone of voice comes across. I tend to focus only on the words I’m saying, which can cause issues.

Classroom Environment

My ideal classroom environment is one where you can talk to your peers, but not so loudly that it distracts everyone else. At the same time, it shouldn’t be completely silent. This helps me focus—it makes me feel engaged rather than robotic.

Right now, the expectation is to sit still and stay silent, which is really difficult for me. I need some noise or activity to help me focus. Fidgeting helps a little, but not as much as being able to talk.

If teachers understood this, it could help me achieve higher academically, improve my mental health, and make my time at school easier—all with just a small change.

When I’m interested in a subject, I breeze through it with great responses and answers. But if I’m uninterested and the room is dead silent, I’m probably just staring out of the window at butterflies.

 Staying quiet for so long also drains me mentally. By the end of the day, I’ve spent all my energy just trying to stay out of trouble, which means I haven’t gotten any work done. I’m less energetic with my friends, I’m miserable with my family when I get home, and I feel like if people saw my perspective of secondary school, it would be like opening their eyes for the first time.

Statistics

It’s statistically shown that 78% of students experience mental health issues due to schools not meeting their needs—and that’s not even limited to neurodivergent students.

It’s also shown that 10–30% of high-achieving students (such as those in top sets) are neurodivergent. This can be an issue because the higher the level, the higher the expectations. Many of us struggle with focus, feel overwhelmed by too many tasks, and have difficulty keeping up with everything at once. It feels like trying to juggle ten watermelons.

Conclusion

I’ve learned that trying to keep up with all these expectations as a neurodivergent student is exhausting. It can lead to bigger issues, like fights or declining academic performance.

One thing I wish teachers would implement is allowing us to talk quietly while working. Not to the point where it’s distracting, but not in complete silence either. I know that’s not entirely independent work, but collaborating with others can actually enrich our understanding.