Recess was over. Instead of quietly filing back to their assigned desks, a handful of students got into a scuffle in the closet at the back of the room where we hung our coats and left our wet boots. Sister Florance called out the names of the usual classroom trouble-starters and the noise level dropped. The second time she called out the names, everyone returned to their desks.

Our teacher, a nun I considered elderly because she had a very wrinkly face, stood at the front of the classroom studying all 50 of her students, row by row before saying, “I’ve decided that we are going to do an art project for the rest of the afternoon. You need a rest from all the end of the semester tests you’ve been taking this past week.”

I sighed gratefully. I knew I had done well on some of the tests but felt ashamed of how poorly I had done on others. The tests that I hated the most were the story math problems. For example, instructions on how to figure the measurements of a room just by being told the room size were impossible to understand.

Forgetting all that, I threw myself into following Sister’s directions. She demonstrated each step. This was my favorite way of receiving instructions. As usual, a few of the students in the class jumped up from their desks to wander around the room like untrained feral children. Sister repeatedly reminded them to sit back down. They continued getting up to sharpen their pencils and poke their friends. Some of the students were doing the art, but not according to the directions.

That year when parents visited their children’s classrooms and talked to their teachers, my mother was told that, “Kathy has what it takes to get good grades in all subjects…if only she would just learn to apply herself.”

I remember Mom telling me what was said and I have puzzled all my life about it. Apparently, I have a high IQ. So that means I should have been a whizz kid when it came to anything I chose to study. There was just one caveat: I needed to apply myself. What I have wanted to know all these years, is how does a person apply themselves? What does that phrase even mean? The dictionary defines applying oneself as working harder, making a dedicated effort or having focus.

No matter how hard I work, make a dedicated effort, or direct my focus, I seriously doubt if I will ever do well in some areas of life. One of the most challenging areas of life for me is following written instructions. I don’t even try anymore. I know how to crochet, and know all the abbreviations for chain, single crochet, double crochet and so on. Despite that, I find it impossible to follow a pattern. The first step always makes sense, but the next step and all that follow melt together and may as well be written in another language. It all turns into a mental blur and I end up feeling stupid.

I’ve navigated through life by looking at pictures to figure out how to assemble furniture, having people walk me through the steps to use computer programs and hire people to fill out my income tax forms. I’d thought I was alone in this affliction! Only recently have I discovered other people who are also unable to follow written instructions.

Written instruction disability is often blamed on ADHD, poor reading comprehension, or a problem with executive function. When I read about this on the computer, it made me think of some of my grade school classmates like the children wandering around in my classroom sharpening their pencils and bothering everyone who were working, poking nearby students and those who couldn’t or wouldn’t follow a demonstrated art project. In the 1950’s these children were just called naughty. Today they would be diagnosed as having one form or another of Attention Deficit Syndrome.

I don’t know why I have such a problem following written instructions. As of now, I remain undiagnosed and I am living an untrained feral life. In other words, I am not educationally domesticated to apply myself.