How to get an A+ in Study Skills, then FAIL out of College

This is a true story. This is how to get an A+ in a study skills class in college—and then fail out of college. This is exactly what I did.

If you follow this recipe, maybe it’ll work for you too… but I hope you don’t.

My name is Seth Perler. I’m an executive function coach. I wear a lot of hats in the executive function, neurodiversity, and ADHD worlds. Today, I’m going to tell you how I got an A+ in study skills—and then failed out of college.

The first thing I did was not try in high school. During my freshman and sophomore years, I was able to fake it pretty well. I could skate by, get my parents off my back, and pretend I was doing well enough. I’d do homework at the beginning of class and turn it in five minutes later, or find ways to cheat. There were all sorts of things I did to avoid actually trying.

By doing that, I cut my own education short because I didn’t put in the effort. I missed out on a lot.

My grades in high school were really bad. I don’t remember my exact GPA, but I think it was around 1.6. My SAT and ACT scores were good, though. I wanted to move out of my parents’ house—I wanted freedom. I thought I was mature, just like everyone else going to college.

I couldn’t get into most colleges, but one school—Ball State University—let me in on probation. My grades were low, but my test scores were good enough. I had to start in the summer, though. That meant no summer break after my senior year. I went straight into a probationary program to prove myself.

Whenever things were bad, I made them look good. I got into that probationary program and actually did well. I took three classes that summer—one was study skills, and I got an A+ in it. The other two classes, I think I got C’s, but it was enough to get me into the fall semester.

So I started the fall. And here’s the “recipe” I followed—one that wasted my time, money, and energy, burned bridges, and cost my parents a lot.

I was confused. I didn’t know what I wanted. I just knew I wanted to be out of my parents’ house and be free. I didn’t feel good about myself or my future. I didn’t have the maturity to think about it deeply.

My executive function skills weren’t nonexistent—but they were weak. I didn’t use a planner or calendar effectively. I went to class, took notes, and half-paid attention while daydreaming.

What I didn’t do was get organized, study, or do homework. If I did homework, it was last-minute—like when someone in class asked, “Did you do it?” and I’d scramble to throw something together.

I also worked really hard at lying to myself. I convinced myself that things weren’t serious. I wasn’t honest with others about what was going on. I was a chameleon—acting differently depending on the situation, whether with teachers, friends, or family.

I lied to my parents—a lot. That hurt our relationship. I also blamed everyone else. Every problem I had was someone else’s fault. I never took responsibility.

If you had asked me back then why I was failing, I would have said, “I don’t know.” And I meant it. I really didn’t know.

I passed the summer program and got into the fall semester—but then I failed the fall. I’m not sure if I failed every class, but I failed the semester. Then I failed the spring semester too.

That’s when they kicked me out. I got a letter saying I was no longer welcome at Ball State University.

If I had to do it all over again, I would do things differently—and eventually, I did.

First, I went back for the right reasons. The first time, I didn’t really want to be there. Later, when I went back at 25, it was because I wanted to go. I had found something I cared about—working with kids—and I decided I wanted to become a teacher.

I started at a community college, got my grades up, and eventually transferred to Indiana University. I loved community college. The students were serious, and the teachers were great. I was there for the right reasons.

Next, I asked for help. I asked teachers, TAs, professors, tutors, the writing center, friends—anyone. I was willing to say, “I don’t know how to do this. Can you help me?”

I also built accountability into my life. I’m not naturally responsible, so I needed external support—study groups, office hours, tutors. I packed my life with accountability.

Then I set myself up for success. Before, I set myself up for failure because I didn’t build systems. This time, I created a great study space, found quiet places to work, and minimized distractions.

I got organized—and kept reorganizing. It took me a long time, but I kept working at it because I knew I needed it.

I also learned how to schedule my time. I treated school like my full-time job. If I had a class from 10 a.m. to noon and another at 3 p.m., I used the time in between to study, review, or prepare.

I knew I had to work harder than others—maybe even ten times harder—to keep up. So I scheduled large blocks of time to focus, knowing I’d get distracted, but giving myself enough time to still succeed.

Finally, I stopped believing everything my mind told me. My mind can give me great ideas—but it can also lead me to procrastinate or make excuses.

I learned that just because I have a thought doesn’t mean I have to act on it. Some thoughts are helpful, and some aren’t—and I started noticing the difference.

I hope this was helpful. My name is Seth Perler. You can find me at sethperler.com, on YouTube, or at executivefunctionsummit.com.

If you found this helpful, give it a thumbs up, leave a comment, and let me know—have you ever failed at something? What was your “recipe,” and what did you do differently?

Let’s learn from each other so we don’t repeat the same mistakes.

Have a fantastic day. I wish you peace in your heart, joy, and connection with the people you care about.