A notebook before and after… or… what happens to a nearly 43-year-old student who discovers she can.

This time, this post is about myself… Although you might think otherwise, it’s not about ADHD (well, maybe it is a little…). It’s also not to encourage you to take any medication or give it to your children. It’s a true story about me… about the child I was and about me today… a nearly 43-year-old woman discovering that she can!

So, I was a good girl. Truly good.

I knew how to read already in kindergarten. I remember my parents bought me the entire series of Walt Disney books, and I devoured them eagerly.

I remember that around the middle of first grade (at Tzomer School in Be’er Sheva), I received my first comment… that moment when I realized I wasn’t present. The teacher pointed out that I hadn’t written anything in my notebook… and asked a question about the topic discussed in class. I remember myself… a 6-and-a-half-year-old girl, wide-eyed, realizing I hadn’t heard a single word she said the entire lesson.

Over time, in an attempt to listen, I started drawing in my notebook… I drew a lot or mostly doodled.

Every day, I managed to write a title. Beautiful. Neatly within the line. With a ruler, I drew two straight lines under the title with a marker.

And that’s it!

The rest were doodles…

Year after year, it became harder.

But being a good, polite girl who didn’t disturb anyone, I found a way not to draw attention to my studies… Occasionally, the topic of homework would come up. I made great efforts to do my homework, study for exams, and copy notebooks (neat and full of content) from friends for studying. (Mostly from my friend Sharon, of blessed memory, whose handwriting was immaculate, and her organized notebooks were a source of inspiration for me).

I remember that in fifth grade, my parents were summoned for a meeting with the counselor, Zehava, a small and lovely woman, and there I first heard the following sentence:

“Ilana is a good and wonderful girl, truly a great child, and she has so much potential, but she’s not realizing it. She must try harder…”

It was a compliment of the highest order.

What’s wrong with that? A counselor sits there and officially declares that I’m a great child with potential… just a little more effort, and I’ll get there…

Where is “there”? And how do you get there?

Oh, that they expected me to figure out on my own.

And more years passed, and I started seventh grade with my right hand broken and in a cast. My classmates helped me and copied all the learned material into my notebook… Amazing how neat and full of content my notebooks were in those days.

On the seventh-grade annual trip, I lost the eardrum in my right ear – I flipped over on the tubing course at Luna Gal on the Golan Beach, and the strong water pressure tore the eardrum. My hearing in my right ear was severely impaired, and alongside the process of medical examinations, I had already finished eighth grade and was heading to high school…

With an average report card and a great recommendation that the friendly and wonderful student has potential, I chose to study at Makif Alef High School, where there was a chemistry track. I was very interested in it, and my parents helped me with everything needed to get accepted.

The educational staff at the high school convinced me to join the first science class of its kind at the school, Class 9/12, a class that enhanced science studies. Mathematics, physics, chemistry, and biology alongside the mandatory subjects. I was convinced and joined. At the beginning of ninth grade, the counselor summoned me for a meeting and introduced me to Lucy. Dear Lucy, a representative of the “Shema” Association – an organization for the education and rehabilitation of the hearing impaired. Lucy told me she would meet with me regularly once a week and help me in any way she could.

Lucy taught me to use lip reading. She taught me that I have rights and accommodations as a hearing-impaired person. I received 25% extra time on exams and 10 additional points on matriculation exams. Lucy accompanied me throughout my first year in high school and ensured that all the teachers knew what I needed. In every meeting, she was a listening ear for me. Lucy also told me that I should approach the National Insurance Institute to get approval for a disability due to the impairment… something I never did.

Most people in my life didn’t even know about my hearing impairment. But along with accepting the impairment, the struggle in studies became harder.

I tried to sit at the front of the class to hear better. This helped during the first hour of the morning… As the day progressed, I disappeared into my notebook doodles. Comments about chatting were a regular part of almost every lesson.

The only one who perhaps saw me beyond the struggle was my amazing homeroom teacher that first year of high school. Her name was Liora Reingold. She made me think beyond the routine and the familiar. To ask questions and not take anything for granted.

As students in the science class, we studied physics already in ninth grade as part of the curriculum.

I remember well the teacher, Anatoly. A young and energetic man who seemed to love the subject.

I was fascinated by the physics lessons, and during the classes, I was an active star. I understood all the processes in every experiment. I was the first to jump in and answer every question. I even got to hear the teacher say, “Maybe someone other than Ilana wants to answer??” – Okay! Stop for a moment – isn’t it amazing for a girl like me to hear that sentence?! The greatest compliment in my eyes. It immediately positioned me as the best student in physics. Until the first exam, where something happened that no one understood. On the first physics exam, I got a score of 23. I’m not even sure that’s a real score. It seemed that dear Anatoly made a great effort to give me any points at all for the exam.

To his credit, he was more shocked than I was and summoned the educational staff and my parents for a meeting and cried for help! He shouted that it didn’t make sense that there was an amazing student here who was a star in every lesson. That this was her exam score. And that it had to be checked.

The year was 1988… approaching 1989.

No one checked.

If you were a good, polite, friendly, cooperative child, who tried hard, showed willingness, didn’t hit anyone, and didn’t talk back to the teacher. Sure, you chatted a bit… doodled a bit, but you were really a good child… then no one checked!!!

In 1988, approaching 1989, you were either disruptive, lazy, chatty, or had potential. I wasn’t disruptive, but I encountered the other labels here and there.

And so, the high school years passed… a good girl with average grades, a chemistry teacher who refused to let me take the matriculation exam in chemistry because she decided I wasn’t serious about the subject (completely true). Private math lessons where the teacher told my mother he wouldn’t teach me because I kept falling asleep during the lessons (completely true – I kept dozing off! And not from tiredness).

The matriculation period was hard for me. I studied for hours in my closed room. In complete silence. My mom would occasionally come in with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, something to eat, a piece of chocolate (because someone said sugar helps with concentration). Hours spent summarizing the material, and when nothing stuck, I decided I would simply copy the summaries over and over, and that way, I would remember the material…

Most of the matriculation exams I was allowed to take, I barely passed (thanks to the 25% extra time and 10 points for being hearing impaired).

From a young age, I wanted to be a teacher… yes… me.

When I enlisted in the army, the path was clear to me. I would request to be a teaching soldier. That way, I could truly experience the profession I wanted to pursue when I grew up. I chose and was accepted. A course for teaching soldiers for immigrant absorption (1992 saw a lot of immigration). Needless to say, in all the lessons, I was a rock star. Until the exams… until submitting lesson plans… there, I failed time and time again. And there, on a bright day, I found myself on a bus from Gush Etzion on my way to my parents’ home in Be’er Sheva. Crying and disappointed by the failure of my life. My dream, which I wanted so badly, was shattered.

Out of the bitter came the sweet, and I was assigned to serve in the Tzabar Battalion of the Givati Brigade. I enjoyed every moment. Towards my discharge, I enrolled in studies. (Notice… I didn’t completely give up on myself… maybe it helped that they convinced me I had potential… I believed them). I enrolled in a preparatory program at Kaye College in preparation for studying for a teaching certificate. Because no instructor in the army who decided I wasn’t fit to be a teacher would break me – I have potential!!

Preparatory studies – essentially completing and improving matriculation exams. The first days were full of excitement. Overflowing with motivation, I sat on the school bench on my way to the goal – I would be a teacher…

All the immense motivation didn’t help me.

Very quickly, I went back to doodling in notebooks, falling asleep in lessons, and not absorbing anything at all.

I left the studies and started working. In every place I worked, I always stood out for being overqualified. Always a few steps ahead of the role I was asked to fill.

At some point, I combined computer studies, specifically Office, which was very popular at the time and a basic requirement for employment.

I enrolled in studies at the College of Management, studied, and successfully completed (again… with great effort) studies in Human Resources Management.

Life went on, and the years passed. I succeeded in my workplaces despite and because of the clear inability to study.

When my second son was born, I chose to study graphic design. I successfully completed a course for production artists.

And I started my own business. I worked as a freelancer in certain places and experienced many successes in my life. In the social field, I always and throughout the years managed to shine. My good interpersonal skills helped me in every field I was in. The ability and need to help others led me to wonderful and good people.

I found myself touching on many different fields, so different in their essence. Juggling between the various hats I wore. When my eldest son was diagnosed with ADHD, the turning point began… Understandings about myself began to sink in. When I read and studied the subject in depth, I diagnosed myself there. All the obstacles I had to overcome in my life surfaced before my eyes. However, understanding the situation didn’t make me do anything. The challenges in our family, where we are all attention-deficit (yes, all of us, including my husband and me), most of you know from previous posts.

For several years now, I’ve been working with children in an after-school program that allowed me to work with children (almost as I dreamed) and, in fact, I work no less with their parents. In my work, I see the children’s challenges in different life situations. I often find myself reflecting to the parents what I see, and together we go through a process that brings the child to a more positive place. I remember that at first, I was a bit hesitant to approach the parents (“You’re just watching them for a few hours a day… why are you interfering in areas that aren’t your business” – a friend once told me…). Apparently, it was bigger than me. I see these children in their eyes. I receive them after a school day. I observe them in different social situations. And no! I can’t ignore the need to be there for them beyond… And so, for several years now, I find myself talking in the evening with parents who, fortunately, accept it with love and cooperate with me, and then we see results together. And there’s no greater satisfaction than that.

I am a very curious person by nature, a true “bookworm” from a very young age – as I already mentioned.

And in recent years, I’ve been attending many lectures on various topics. It enriches me greatly and makes me think.

In a certain lecture I attended by a parent group facilitator, I threw into the air out loud what I had felt inside for a long time…

I told my husband – do you see her, the facilitator?! That’s me when I grow up. That’s what I want…

I threw it out and left it…

Why? Because the boundary between wanting and acting on it lies in fears/self-limitations.

Because for years, I’ve completely lived the “why not.”

So, the “why not” had many answers…

Because there’s no money, because there’s no time, because you’re already so busy and doing a million other things, and the answer that always, but always tipped the scales was – because you can’t study! Studying is not something you’re good at – it never was. You’re a real success in so many areas – studying isn’t one of them. So, leave it. Keep doing the million other things you do so well and settle for that. Nothing’s perfect. And you’re certainly not perfect, and that’s okay!

And so, for years, I limited myself not to touch or approach. Watching many people, less successful and more successful, study, get a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree in various and strange fields…

And I didn’t… I didn’t dare cross that line again.

But the moment I shouted my desires out loud, I could no longer ignore them.

I couldn’t ignore that this is what I want to do. Because in recent years, I’ve learned to ask myself questions too. And when the answer to the question “What do you want” received an answer out loud – a real voice, not the inner one that whispers quietly. And the moment another ear heard what was said. I want to be a parent facilitator – it echoed! And it didn’t leave. And in a conversation with my beloved husband and my dear children, I repeated it again. Already in a more confident and stable voice. And my husband simply said – you’ve been doing this for so long anyway, it’s time you do it officially and professionally… And at that moment, I realized I needed to get diagnosed. I’m not going to study again without addressing the difficulty that limited me all these years. So, I already wrote about the diagnosis I underwent in a separate post…

And when I was accepted into the studies, no one was happier than me. Because when you go to study something you want so much, out of choice, it’s an exalted feeling of success even before you’ve even started. And last Friday, I started. Excited and full of motivation (and appropriate medication), a new notebook and a well-equipped pencil case. I arrived on the first day of studies. I won’t go into detail about the entire day. I’ll just say that a whole day of studies flew by. I didn’t move in my chair unnecessarily, I didn’t doze off for a moment, my notebook is full of pages of lecture summaries in neat and clean handwriting. Not a single doodle in sight.

I didn’t need anything. I was completely there! 100% focused and attentive. I participated actively from the beginning of the day until the end. And I got to come home and share about it. Everything I learned is in my head. I remember everything! Absolutely everything! Without needing to copy it over and over or record and replay. I studied all day, and I still remember everything as I write this to you!

So, were the years I limited myself because of my inability a waste of time? Not sure…

I did and still do many other wonderful things. But alongside all the joy in the amazing discovery that I can – I couldn’t help but think about how I missed out… how everything could have looked different if someone had known what I know today. How I, who am very aware of the limitations ADHD imposes on my children (each with their own challenges) and help them in every way so they can succeed despite the limitations. How I didn’t think for a moment to take the same path for myself. So, there’s no one wiser than someone with experience, and yet there are different people with different opinions.

Today, I feel like I’ve won… I’m not sure what? Maybe I’ve won against myself in the battle of the limitations I placed on myself. That I accepted my inability as something absolute. Because when I couldn’t see well, I got glasses, and since then, I see great. And a few years ago, when my hearing deteriorated further, I got myself a hearing aid that helps me a lot. Because in life, we need to understand our limitations and find a way to live better in any way possible. I hope that in my own way, I will serve as an example to my children and others because I’ve proven to myself that I can – and I want to believe that the sky’s the limit.