I Hated School, But Loved Learning

I have a confession to make:

As an educator today, this may surprise you.  

I hated school growing up, but I loved learning.

In the early grades, school felt manageable. As I moved into upper elementary and middle school, though, expectations increased and the pace quickened. I found it harder to keep up. I would miss important instructions. I'd start assignments but struggle to finish them. I was easily distracted, struggled to form connections, and often felt overwhelmed by the workload. This meant that I was often the last to finish classwork, assignments would go missing, and I started to avoid school and schoolwork.

Adding to the challenge, I moved every few years until I started high school. Each new school meant adjusting to different standards, different expectations, and a different academic pace. Some schools moved more slowly, others much faster. At times, I hadn’t yet mastered basic skills before being expected to build on them.

I remember moving to a new school in sixth grade after Thanksgiving break. My new class was practicing three-digit division — and I hadn’t mastered two-digit division yet. They were also in the middle of a multi-page research paper, and I joined just in time to complete the assignment alongside them.

I don’t remember what support I received to help me catch up, but I do remember how unprepared I felt. It was one of several moments when I questioned my own abilities.

Later, in eighth grade, I encountered a teacher whose approach left a lasting impression. We were assigned a biography book report. For once, I felt genuinely excited about the assignment. I found a biography that resonated with me and worked incredibly hard to complete it on time — which, for me at the time, was a real accomplishment.

When the reports were returned, I was told my book did not qualify, because the author used a pseudonym. Meanwhile, another student who had completed her assignment much more quickly received high praise.  This left me embarrassed at the time and I decided to give up on trying in that class.

Experiences like that reinforced doubts I was already carrying.

But here’s what’s important:

Even though I struggled in school, I never stopped loving learning.

I loved museums, zoos, aquariums, and PBS documentaries. I devoured fantasy novels. I flipped through encyclopedias for fun (Does anyone else remember those?). National Geographic? Absolutely. As my dad likes to say, we enjoy collecting “useless information.”

Learning and school simply didn’t feel like the same thing to me.

My first attempt at college was difficult, and I stepped away to focus on raising my children. When I returned years later, it was still challenging — but this time I approached it differently. I had more clarity and determination and a better understanding of how I learn.

Eventually, I earned my degree in teaching.

And looking back, I realize something important:

I was always a teacher.

I supported my children through their own learning journeys. I taught yoga, art (as a school aide), and skiing. I worked as a paraprofessional with students who have autism and ADHD. Along the way, I learned just as much about myself as I did about education.

I came to understand that I am neurodivergent.

I am not stupid. I am not lazy. I am not incapable.

There were gaps in my foundational skills — especially in writing and math — and there were challenges with focus and processing. Those gaps weren’t a reflection of my intelligence. They were simply skills I hadn’t yet been taught in the way I needed.

Gaps can be filled. Confidence can be rebuilt. Skills can be learned at any age.

That realization changed everything for me.

I chose to become an educator — and more specifically, a tutor — because I know what it feels like to question your intelligence and your worth. I know what it’s like to love learning but feel discouraged by school.

I also know that with the right support, anyone can grow.

Now, I love identifying where students have missing foundational skills and helping them strengthen those areas in a one-on-one setting. I love watching their confidence build as concepts begin to make sense. I love seeing students realize that struggling does not define them.

If you or your child feels behind, overwhelmed, or unsure, please hear this:

You are not alone. You are capable. You are smart.

Struggle may be part of learning, but it does not have to define the journey.

With the right support, learning can become something joyful again.

And that is why I do what I do.