Strategies at university

During high school, I heard several times that university would be very different: more demanding, with a faster pace and less follow-up, “no one will be watching over you”, my father told me. Even though I listened to them, I don’t feel like I was prepared for the change it was really going to be.

I had to adapt to a teaching context with fewer stimuli and fewer tools to support a condition that, during compulsory education, I didn’t even know I had. The difference was significant, but it also brought an important advantage: with the diagnosis, I was able to seek more appropriate help, and instead of resorting to generic study tips, I began looking for specific strategies for students with PHDA.

It was also in higher education that I realized the importance of rhetorical questions that teachers ask during class. If I’m distracted, this sudden change in tone, this break in a monotonous sequence, makes me regain focus. The pause while students reflect gives me time to advance the slides until I reach the point the teacher is at, and the explanation that follows is exactly what I need to get back to picking up the pen and writing.

The classes I enjoy most are taught by teachers who maintain a predictable structure. Predictability doesn’t limit me; it organises me.

Sometimes it helps me that teachers themselves are the “distraction”: the hand gestures, the way they move around the room. Small details make a difference. I have a teacher who walks around the room while explaining and frequently starting sentences with “class!”, in a loud, flashy tone. My brain has already associated this vocative with a clear signal: “Now focus. He will repeat the idea more concisely and directly.”

Beyond practical strategies, there is one factor that makes a huge difference: understanding. Knowing that whoever is on the other side knows that I’m not being “lazy”, “unruly”, or that I stopped listening, not out of disrespect, but because I suddenly realized there’s a rhythmic beat in the other corner of the room. The biggest support is feeling understood and that people give me time to return to focusing on the topic they want to address.

What really helps me is being described as “smart, ambitious, hardworking” even if it comes accompanied by a “has a PHDA” instead of “lazy and lacking discipline”. Because my neurodiversity doesn’t limit me as much as the fact that the education system isn’t made with “different” people being the norm, nor does it demotivate me as much as the vocabulary of those around me.

Maybe it’s time to question whether being neurodivergent is more common than we think. Adaptating education to those who have the most difficulties will benefit everyone, including those who already fit into the current mould.

The Student

Testimony collected by the Career and Development Service of the Faculty of Economics of the University of Porto