One woman reflects on how autism and ADHD have shaped her teaching.

By Céline Forster, BMus, DipEd

I grew up in Burwood, Melbourne, the only girl among six children. From a young age, I sensed I was different, though I didn’t yet have the words to explain why. I masked to fit in with my brothers, yet never felt I belonged with them or anyone else.

It wasn’t until much later in life that I was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder and ADHD, or AuDHD. That diagnosis changed everything and nothing all at once.

My neurodivergence had always been in the driver’s seat; I just hadn’t known it. It steered my friendships, relationships, parenting, and career. While I often traveled without a map, I found meaning along the way.

What once felt like confusion now reads like clarity. My difference wasn’t a flaw; it was a framework of predictability in an unpredictable world.

A family of neurodivergence

I am a sandwich carer: a sole parent to four neurodiverse daughters (one non-binary), and a carer for my widowed mother, who we strongly suspect has ADHD.