UNTIL I WAS 14, I was a bit of a keener. I was excited to start high school, and I'd totally bought in to the fantasy I'd seen on TV: football, cheerleading, dating. I had every intention of going on to university. But, despite my initial enthusiasm, I struggled with my new workload. I couldn't concentrate, and I started falling behind, especially in math. Some of my teachers thought I had a bad attitude, but I was just overwhelmed and didn't know how to ask for help. By the end of Grade 9, I was so depressed that I was barely eating. When I started Grade 10, in 1993, it was all too much for me. I decided not to go back to school.
For months, I kept the decision hidden from my parents, who had emigrated from Portugal in the '70s. I took advantage of their limited understanding of the school system. I'd impersonate my mom when officials called, telling them I was sick. I spent most of my days at the library. At 15, I was a year too young to quit school legally, and eventually my viceprincipal called and threatened to charge me with truancy. So I let a woman from the school board sign me up for an adult day program at George Harvey Collegiate Institute.
I was the youngest person there-everyone else was over 30. I'd finish a unit in one night, but I often handed my work in late because I was skipping class. I didn't know it then, but I had ADHD and dyscalculia, a math-related learning disorder. When I turned 16, I dropped out officially. Over the next few years, I registered at five schools but earned only 12 credits.
This story is from the September 2024 edition of Toronto Life.
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This story is from the September 2024 edition of Toronto Life.
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