I’m Seth, and you probably won’t be surprised to learn I was the struggling student I work to help nowadays. Yep, I was “that kid.” Kindergarten was fine, but here are some rave reviews quoted from my 1st-grade report cards:

“Slow worker. Very easily distracted. Loves school. Wants to be helpful. Very short attention span and never really gets into his work. Exhibits a very deep feeling and enjoyment. He loves stories. If I could only get him stimulated I know he would do well. He is a very thoughtful child. I think he is much brighter than he lets on and my hope is as he matures and his short attention span increases, he will show greater academic progress.”

Even in first grade, I got the message I didn’t fit in the proverbial box. And it only got worse in later grades. Similar comments appeared:

“Lazy. Unmotivated. Not living up to his potential. Daydreams. Needs to work harder. Doesn’t try his best. Doesn’t pay attention. Needs to focus. If he would just apply himself, he’d be okay.”

And here’s the message I internalized:

“There’s something wrong with me. I’m not good enough, I’m not okay, I’m somehow broken. I can’t do anything right. I’m just a lazy failure. Nobody notices my effort anyhow, so why even try? I give up.”

Of course I had strengths, but they weren’t noted or built upon enough through traditional schooling, and I needed tools & insights simply weren’t available back then. So, I struggled… a lot.

My inner critic latched onto seeing myself as a “lazy failure.” I felt so much shame and hopelessness. Sadly, I learned to dislike me, and I stayed stuck.

Chapter 2. Patterns Emerge

Adopted at the ripe age of 3 days by an incredible family in Columbus, OH, I was a happy, free-spirited kid by nature, but I never quite felt like I fit in. There was always a sense I was somehow different.

I was creative, my imagination was wild and vivid. I would draw massive stories along giant rolls of paper flowing through the house. I would collect countless random objects to examine, liked to take things apart, fix things, build things, do big experiments, make cool inventions. Some of them even worked. I was a lover of the natural world; bugs, plants, animals, rocks, dirt, the forest, the sky. I was intuitive and highly sensitive to what was going on around me. And I was a free-spirited dreamer, adventuring through my world — but schooling would minimize this. “Daydreaming” became a bad word.

Year after year, certain patterns got worse, and my grades slipped. Instead of developing my strengths, I put my energy into fitting into expectations, staying out of trouble, and staying off the radar. Square peg, round hole. But my pattern of frustration and hopelessness grew, and eventually I gave up trying, or put in as little effort as possible.

Unconsciously, it came down to this: school wasn’t worth much effort since there was little reward, and I just ended up feeling bad about myself anyhow. I wasn’t able to access learning in the way it was presented, and I felt like a failure.

I was tested for learning disabilities in middle school and there were none identified. They said I had a high IQ, but there were no programs at the time, and just having that knowledge didn’t help me gain access to strategies or tools to help. The test results just left my parents and teachers more perplexed: “We know he can do it! So he must not want to. He has so much potential, he needs to just try harder!”

This seemed logical, but they were missing a big part of the picture…

Chapter 3. Patterns Continue

So I floundered through high school. I did “fine” the first two years, faking it with minimal effort because I compensated well, or cheated. I was strong out of the gates each semester, but quickly lost momentum and fell behind. I couldn’t manage all the minutiae, so I didn’t do much homework, and I didn’t know how to actually “study”. If I did homework, I rushed it, often forgot to turn it in, or lost it. I didn’t know how to be a student in the system. It was as if other kids got an instruction book on how to be a student, I was never given. I simply didn’t have the Executive Function skills to navigate those waters.

My grades really began to suffer in the 11th grade, when I couldn’t fake it anymore. D’s and F’s became the norm as I became more apathetic, and as my parents became more concerned. They watched helplessly as I lied to them constantly about how I was doing, and as I pushed them further away when they tried to help.

My grades were horrible and I barely graduated high school. High SAT and ACT scores made it possible for me to enter Ball State University on probation, as long as I did their remedial program first. The program required me to take 3 college classes in the summer, immediately after high school ended. I got 2 C’s and an A that summer, so was taken off probation. Laughably, the A was in Study Skills — I was always able to pull it together when the pressure was on, to make it “look” like I had it under control. At least it kept people off my back a bit longer.

Next, I completely failed the fall semester and was placed on academic probation again. I then failed the spring semester, was officially kicked out of college, and moved back home with the folks.

They didn’t know how to help me, and I wouldn’t have accepted it anyhow. I looked for any jobs that would hire me, and got fired from several. I was the least responsible person I knew, and it was daunting. I really didn’t know what to do, I was sinking.

I didn’t want to live with my parents — I wanted “freedom”, and to be treated like an adult even though I acted like an irresponsible, helpless child. I later ended up living with my grandmother, one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known. I tried again at a community college in Columbus, Ohio. Same pattern — started strong, hopeful, optimistic with new resolve. Maybe I turned over a new leaf!

But things went downhill fast. Failed out again.

By this time I was deeply hopeless, suffering internally, and I felt empty. I felt like a complete failure, knew I would never be able to accomplish anything in life, and moved back in with my parents. What went wrong? Why was I broken? Why try? I was out of answers, and gave up again.

Chapter 4. Turning It Around

One day, after months of self-pity or blame, I hurt so badly I decided I would do whatever I had to do to give myself a real try once again. I wanted to turn things around. I was willing to do anything to change, including asking for help repeatedly until I got the help I needed, and receiving it! This was the hardest thing of all, and something I had never done before.

Finally, I began to change, slowly but surely. I was having little successes, and they were adding up. Momentum was building, an ember of hope grew. I got a minimum wage job I liked, and went home from work feeling good about what I had done. There was meaning in my work, and ironically, I was working with kids. I thought I might be pretty good at it.

I’m so thankful for that job because it changed the entire course of my life. It was for a company called AYS (At Your School), in Indianapolis. I don’t know if it still exists. One of the people I worked with was a woman named Candy Hammond. She was a BRILLIANT teacher, and showed me how you could positively impact a child’s life, and make a real difference. She was my first true mentor, and neither of us knew it. She inspired me to want to be better at serving kids. I would watch in awe as she would artfully listen to and connect with the students on a level so deep, it was almost spiritual. She attuned to the kids, she saw what they really needed, but not as students first. She saw their needs as human beings first. There’s a critical distinction here. I wanted to be able to help kids as she did, and this sparked my professional journey in 1993.

Chapter 5. Finding My Path

One fall day, while driving my old Mazda 323 stick shift home from working at one of the schools, mix tape blaring, windows rolled down, my long hair flying around, I noticed the smile plastered across my face, and realized I wasn’t that hopeless person anymore.

Somewhere in the past several months, those things that made me hopeless had been put to sleep. I was alive, invigorated. That moment, I realized I was always leaving work happy, and it was at that moment I dedicated my life to helping kids. I didn’t know how, and I didn’t care. All I knew was I needed to go in that direction, and find a path to serve.

At 25 I went back to college again, to become a teacher, and worked harder than I ever worked in my life. I started again at a community college, which I loved because I was there to learn, and the teachers were fantastic! I probably worked harder than almost everyone in my classes, because I didn’t have strong student skills, aka executive function skills. I would sit to study, sometimes reading the same sentence 10 or 20 times before it would sink in, determined to succeed no matter how hard it was or how long it took. It was painstaking, tedious, challenging, but good! Every trick I could think of to make learning easier I did. I didn’t know it, but I was coaching myself. I also took full advantage of all of the student support services I could find, asking for help shamelessly. They taught me so much.

I transferred to Indiana University, and ended up doing pretty well. Through a twist of fate, I was the student asked to represent my class by speaking at graduation! Me, the once hopeless “lazy, failure”. Through all of this, I learned beyond a shadow of a doubt that kids don’t have to suffer, they can be successful and happy, IF we meet their needs properly.

But there’s no quick fix. It takes time, patience, persistence, understanding, empathy, compassion. Kids need the right tools. Schools need to meet students where they are at. They need to see students holistically and build upon strengths. Left-brained students often navigate the system just fine, as it aligns with their strengths. But there are so many right-brained, outside-the-box thinkers, with executive function challenges and learning differences, who don’t fit the mold. They might be random, global, big-picture thinkers, poor with details, creative, quirky, or otherwise neurodivergent learners.

The fact is, when any student is properly understood and educated, they shine.

Nowadays I love my life. Sure, I still have Executive Function struggles, but I know what to do about it. As a result, I’ve built rich relationships, a career I’m passionate about, a healthy lifestyle, a positive outlook, fulfilling hobbies, and I’m at peace.

So, in all humility, I’m infinitely grateful I’ve found my strengths and path. I hope I can share them here in such a way it helps more and more kids have better lives. Please feel free to dive into the content here, because there is so much hope!

Shine on,
Seth Perler