Reflecting on my school days, the same line pops up on nearly every report card: "Kim does not concentrate in class." It's like a greatest hits album but with less Taylor Swift and more detentions. Digging through these relics from the '80s, I unearthed a gem—a teacher's note that said, "Kim lacks concentration in class, but she does not lack imagination or creativity, which should be encouraged." Finally, a teacher is way ahead of time!

For me, school was a struggle. I was too talkative, had difficulty processing lessons, and even struggled with the correct way to hold a pen. My unconventional grip on the pen and my tendency to get distracted were always met with corrections: "Wrong, wrong, wrong!" I was often sent out of the classroom, called naughty, disruptive, and even stupid—a harsh critique that extended to telling my mother, "She won't amount to much." It's clear now that what was diagnosed as mere misbehaviour was actually ADHD, but back then, what was labelled as me failing school was actually school failing me.

Despite never being able to sit still and process lessons in a traditional classroom setting, I thrived when I could learn in my own way. I walked out of school before my 14th birthday, started my first business by age 22, and 10 years later, I had built and sold the largest marketing and promotional agency in Sydney—a venture I built from scratch, teaching myself everything from accounting to strategic planning. There was no Google in those days; it was just a girl with a library card and determination.

My entrepreneurial spirit didn't stop there. I founded a charity event that has raised half a million dollars for Kids with Cancer and a national events company. Today, I am happily married, have two daughters, and run a successful digital and marketing business. I’m also a self-published author—all self-taught.

I'm not sharing this to toot my own horn (okay, maybe just a little toot). I'm here to spread hope and a bit of cheeky advice: Don’t give up on us quirky souls. The world’s most intriguing minds—from entrepreneurs to entertainers—often come packaged with a label like ADHD. And despite never scoring above a C on my report cards, I've managed to scribble outside the lines quite successfully.

Do I feel a pang for that misunderstood little girl always sent to the principal’s office? Absolutely. A little more understanding and a few less "wrongs" could have made a world of difference. So, to all the parents and teachers out there, let the kids run their lemonade stands, encourage their wildest ideas, and nurture their creative sparks.

Here’s to the wild, wonderful, and wonderfully distracted!

www.adhdbook.com.au