I was in a cramped principal's office filled with old books, posters of American Presidents, and the smell of stale coffee. I was supposed to be nervous, twitching and intimidated about being in this office-- but I wasn't. I was way too comfortable sitting in that chair ready to face the principal, because I was a veteran: I've been in this hot seat too many times to count. I was a jaded twelve-year -old criminal sent once again to the principal's office.

I was expecting a version of a speech preached to me by many a teacher, counselor or principal: "Nate you are a smart kid, you just need to apply yourself and concentrate on school, and you can do so much better" (they were talking about grades; they were always talking about grades).

I didn't get that speech. Not this time.

The principal stormed into his office, with me already waiting there for him. He did not bother to say hello. There was no greeting, except for the sigh of frustration when he entered the room. He closed the door and went straight to his desk and collapsed into his hands: "Nate I don't know what to do with you. We have been through this too many times. We have warned you about your homework and grades and about your disturbing the class, and you don't stop. You only get worse, and all you give is excuses, lies, you tell us lies about not being about to focus, because you are Lazy. You are Lazy, and you will always be behind in life, and you will find yourself always making excuses because of your laziness".

I don't remember much from middle school, but I remember that speech, it plays in my head at least once a day, the imagery of that office and the cold stinging words, are stuck in my mind. "You are lazy, lazy, LAZY."

I was later diagnosed with ADHD, and once I became medicated, school went better. But I still live with the fact that to fit in and meet certain standards, I have to take pills, and it is hard. I do not count myself lucky because I have an Adderall script-- I actually need it.

I wish I could end this article with some sage wisdom about how I conquered ADHD, and that is all behind me. That is the toughest part: to admit not that I struggled, but that I am struggling.