It’s Not-Back-to-School time and even if we’re very unschooly, the change of seasons often has home educating parents thinking about how we can bring a little more structure or “high tide” energy into our homeschooling lives.

For those of us with our own amazing ADHD tendencies towards high creativity and novelty seeking, figuring out how to maintain a regular homeschooling rhythm can be hard. Especially one that gets us all the way through that year-long math curriculum our kid says they are interested in completing this year (but doesn’t always want to do in the moment…).

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So here are a few ideas for how to create some consistency in your homeschooling life when doing so feels hard.

1. Try Rhythm Over Schedule

   Scheduling specific tasks at specific times (i.e. read-aloud every morning at 9am, math at 10am, etc.) has never worked in my family, even when my kids were younger and we still did a lot of our learning together as a group. What often did work was a gentle and flexible rhythm that wasn’t tied to a specific time on the clock, but instead was linked with something else that we knew would happen in our day. So we might start with a read-aloud while everyone had breakfast, then move into math, then get outside for a bit, then lunch… We knew some days would be different because of outside commitments like forest school or science club, and that was built into my overall plan as well. But on home days, it was nice to have a general idea of a rhythm to follow.

2. Plan from Behind

   Is rhythm hard for you to maintain? Perhaps you have young people who are unpredictable or prefer a bit more spontaneity? Or who need a lot of outside stimuli? Try planning from behind, as popularized by long-time homeschool educator and writer Julie Bogart. Instead of trying to figure out what you’ll do ahead of time, make an effort to write down what you actually do with your kids in a day. You’ll be surprised by how much learning you can observe in their self-selected projects, spontaneous reading, and joyful play. You may need to develop your skill to translate the things they enjoy doing into adult-oriented, academic-subject language. Check out Subject Explorer for ideas on how to do that.

3. Prioritize and Set Yourself Up for Success

   Over the years I’ve left a trail of barely written in planners, uncompleted plans, and unused curriculums. Still, we seem to have managed to do enough in those early years—my teens are now thriving in their self-chosen formal courses at the high school and college level. The things we prioritized, I often made happen by partnering with friends. We set up science and math co-ops, park days, nature groups, Minecraft meetups, and crafting events. When we made plans with friends, it was much easier for everyone to stick to the commitment. I’ve written more about them in a couple of posts:

Wandering Brightly

Organizing Events in the Home/Unschool Space (Part 1 - The Early Years)

‘Tis the season for Fall homeschooling planning, even if it’s of the “supporting self-directed learners” variety. So this week I’m sharing some of my many experiences with organizing and joining homeschool co-ops and events in the early years (ages 0-10 or so), inspired by my friend…

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2 years ago · 16 likes · 12 comments · Marnina Kammersell

Wandering Brightly

Organizing Events in the Home/Unschool Space (Part 2 - The Tween/Teen Years)

I’ve been mulling this post over for a couple of weeks now, paying close attention to how my kids and other home educated youth around us are spending their time together. It feels so much more complicated to help foster social relationships for tweens and teens. I’m not sure our experience is generalizable for a variet…

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2 years ago · 6 likes · 2 comments · Marnina Kammersell

4. Remember the Long View and Stay Flexible

   Home education is a marathon. Our kids are constantly changing and evolving, and our education approach needs to adapt and change too. It’s so hard to zoom out to try to see the big picture, because we can only ever live in this tiny sliver of time called today. But having been at this home ed thing for quite awhile now, talking with many others who have too, and reading all the stories I can find of grown unschoolers… generally, it turns out okay. Meeting our kids where they are at today is enough. Joining them in their art, their play, their world—is enough. Young people have so much more creativity, passion, and wisdom about their own needs and knowing than we give them credit for. They will grow up and develop more grown-up perspectives and interests, and then we won’t feel 100% ready for that either!

I hope you’re navigating the changing seasons with joy and curiosity about what’s coming next for your family, while also managing to stay in the moment. It’s a tough line to walk!

If you’re inclined to share, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. Still chipping away at that dissertation which is taking almost all of my writing energy, but I’m looking forward to reconnecting with folks here on Substack.

-Marni

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On Thursday, September 3rd from 7-9pm Central I’ll be presenting on Homeschooling and Unschooling for PDA North America as part of their “Back-to-School...or NOT?” series! The cost is $59 which supports the work of PDANA. Discounted or free tickets are available for those who need them. Hope to see some of you there!

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In many ways, it was easier for me when we were eclectic homeschooling. We were never that great with schedules, but to the extent that we mostly followed a plan, I felt like I had met my obligation for education with each tidy box checked. The rest of the day we could just be.

The issue then was that I saw how the “just being” part of the day was often so much richer than the curriculums I tried to navigate us through.

My son worked his way through all the “Crash Course” videos for the joy of it, while my daughter wrote an entire book. Those things were easier to value than endless hours of Minecraft, but when I joined them there, I saw the value in that too. They weren’t just “on a screen” to me, any more than I think of myself as being just “on a screen” when I’m creating a presentation, messaging a friend, or researching my latest topic of interest.

I started valuing the process of learning and not measuring the producible outcomes.

We’ve been living this way for years now—doubling down on seeing value in what they value. Asking to join their worlds (literally and figuratively—I’ve spent a disproportionate amount of time proving how hopeless I am in their digital spaces) rather than seeking to drag them into standard expectations.

They continue to surprise me, over and over again. “How do you know that?” I often want to ask—but I don’t. We just continue on with the conversation about books or history, climate change and current events.

They’re full people and they have been from the start. It’s not actually my job to educate them, in terms of something I do to them. I’m learning with them, advocating for them, and often just along for the ride.

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Coming up in May, check out this live webinar! Along with my friends and fellow adult PDAers Molly Herold, Mady Snyder, and Heidi Wheeler, I’ll be presenting on PDA across the life span. https://neuroabundant.com/courses/

I am hosting an event this weekend!

The impetus for creating this gathering may have arisen from some demand avoidance around writing my dissertation, and also a reaction to the enshitification of just about everything.

(Side note, if you haven’t seen this awesome Norwegian video, I recommend you stop everything and do that because it’s hilarious and we need to laugh now more than ever).

So why an in-person event?

Honestly, in large part because I needed a distraction from my dissertation (which is going well, it’s just such a beast of a project to wrangle).

Also because as a parent of teens, I feel much less connected to my local community than I did when they were little. I’m hoping to change that in the coming months as time allows.

And, as noted, the world is depressing as hell - I’ve been wanting to make something, anything, just a little more concretely better. Increasing connections in my local community seemed like a good place to start, as I’ve seen many times how these kinds of events can create a ripple of positive experiences for families.

So, I did a thing, and we’re having a gathering, and it should be fun. If you’re near Boulder, I hope to see you there.

https://wanderingbrightly.com/events/

I’ll be back with a full post soon. :)

-Marni

I have another poem to share today. I swear, I never know what my brain is going to churn out in the middle of the night. I’m sure some of my fellow ADHDers and perimenopause club members can relate.

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This poem is partially about those middle of the night wakeups, and partially about the chaos I find myself in these days, torn between my work and caregiving roles (both of which I treasure, it’s just a lot!).

Firefly Hours

I haven’t written poetry since college—
The last time I had both suffering and the quiet time to pour it on a page

But now, thanks to perimenopause,
I have the 2am gap

When my mind is wide awake
But I wish my body were asleep

So rather than rousing it fully
I lay under my covers
And pretend
If I dictate into my phone
I’ll have enough energy for tomorrow—No, today.

The thing is, I feel brilliant at 2am
In the quiet dark world
Where NO ONE WILL INTERRUPT ME

Wild, that.
First time in sixteen years—
Since I became a mother.

Gods.
I have loved all the sticky hands moments of motherhood
From the tiny palms pulling at my neckline
To LEGO underfoot
And art materials everywhere

And now these teen years
Where nothing is as it seemed
And I’m guiding them
Through the dark
Sometimes without a light

Maybe a jar of fireflies can brighten our way
Or is that animal cruelty?

I once thought they were just like me
Especially my daughter
And of course they are not
They are their own people
With their own paths to follow

And maybe I’m not out in front with that jar after all
But instead walking right beside them
And relying on wild lightning bugs to guide us

And isn’t that just right?

Tiny motes in an infinite universe
Them, and us too

I need to lean in more to the cosmos
To keep us and all of this in perspective

I am far from the first
To live
This aching dance of letting go
To love

And what more could I ask for?

Sticking with the insect theme, I hope you’ll consider getting a ticket for the upcoming 2026 Yellow Ladybugs Conference! I’ll be speaking about my experiences as a late-identified Autistic adult, and how those experiences have shaped my role as a consultant and educator focused on autonomy-supportive practices. This is my favorite conference all year and I’m so excited to share it with all of you.

I want to hear about chaos and creativity in your lives! Do you have the “first” and “second” sleep thing going on too? It’s maddening, but also sort of interesting and often weirdly productive.

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This week I also planned a homeschool event for my local community, again most of it in the middle of the night, and that is coming together!

For local folks, I’ll share details soon.

Marni

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ICE

Despair

I’ll tell you mine

If you’ll tell me yours1

What right do I have to feel this pain

When a billion others

Suffer more than I do

More right than if I were to ignore their suffering

And drown my misgivings

In two-day shipping

“Life is pain, Highness,”

The Princess Bride told us

Still, I didn’t know it would be this way

And what would I have done if I had known

We live in a brutal nation

Which is hidden by modern conveniences

But only to those who don’t choose to see it

Even now-

There’s a new season of Bridgerton!

As ICE disappears our neighbors

We can never be free

Until we are all free

Every last one of us

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We continue on friends. Keep finding ways to make a difference.

-Marni

I finally got around to pulling out our gingerbread kits and our tradition of filling out reflection pages about our favorite things from the just finished year. With a house full of teens (and a prickly tween), I’m no longer sure which childhood rituals are welcomed or wanted. Sometimes I feel the need to be the “magic maker” for them in a heavier way than when they were little, when it was easier to elicit delight.

Perhaps I needn’t have worried. The combination of sugar, crafty building, novelty and nostalgia still created a memorable and connecting afternoon with my three.

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On the first day back to regular weekday life after the winter holidays (dad at his desk, working from home), I told my younger two we were going to make gingerbread houses and play math. For each math question they answered, they got another piece of their gingerbread walls.

I was surprised by how much they liked this impromptu game. Since I hadn’t prepared anything and was simultaneously prepping pieces and helping with frosting glue, my math questions weren’t particularly inspired - mainly multiplication facts.

My “7th grader” has worked through memorizing math facts with me, but my “3rd grade” PDAer certainly has not. Yet he easily worked out simple problems in his head like 5x4, 6x3, and 8x8 with a bit of thinking time. I was even able to sneak in a tiny bit of math strategies and facts like “all the products for the 9s add to 9 (ie. 9x2=18)”.

Eventually they took over coming up with more creative and interesting challenges for each other, like (6^2) - 5 + 100 - 47 = ?

Honestly, I’m often a bit gobsmacked at what unschooled kids can demonstrate in terms of knowledge they haven’t studied through official channels. My young teen is aiming for more consistency with math practice this year in preparation for a possible interest in attending high school, so these were all well within her comfort zone.

But my 9-year-old’s only formal math practice was six months at age 4, when he had a passion for Reading Eggs and Math Seeds. He taught himself to read and do math through a third grade level, and then promptly decided he had enough knowledge for his purposes and has never played with those kinds of learning apps (or worksheets) ever again.

He randomly showed me that he knew what fractions to the hundredths were the other day, and when I expressed surprise, responded with disdain: “I know more math than you think I do!”

It’s coming from video games, my friends.

Do I know exactly how he has translated gaming into being able to apply math concepts? I do not. And yet it has happened.

As a self-directed learner, he’ll have gaps. Schooled kids have gaps too, from all the things they learn (or don’t learn) for tests and then promptly forget. And unschooled kids fill in those gaps when they need to for their own self-motivated purposes.

Someday, he’ll have a reason to solidify his collection of knowledge in some more formal way - but for now it’s enough for me to see that he’s growing and developing.

Esther Jones always writes about her family’s unschooling path, including her PDAer, in ways that I find inspiring and reassuring. She has a wonderful piece out this week about how unschooled youth pursue self-directed learning in a variety of ways, including classes with teachers, when they are ready. I love that she also notes:

“In case you are now wondering why your child is not seeking out teachers in the things they love, I will add here that each of my children has been quite different, and that there are many interests where they have not wanted any kind of teaching, but preferred to explore on their own. And that when they were younger, they rarely wanted anything other than their own exploring.”

- Esther Jones, Unraveling Gently

Unravelling gently

Unschooling and the magic of teaching

For a couple of years, our eldest son had a weekly Mandarin class with Kejia, a lovely Chinese woman who lives in a nearby village. I would drive him there, go for a coffee at the pub (the only place open in the village), then go and pick him up an hour later. When the door opened, he and his teacher would appear, both beaming ear to ear. He, because he…

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8 months ago · 3 likes · 2 comments · Esther Jones

I’ve been quiet, in part because of my dissertation work! I’m so excited to explore and document more stories like Esther’s — family stories of unschooling PDA teens into their young adult years.

I will be exploring both what those young adults are doing now and also the processes their families co-created during their unschooling years that led to their own self-defined success.

It’s a pretty niche group I’m aiming to reach, especially because PDA wasn’t as well known in the U.S. 5-10 years ago. But I’ll still share the Call for Participants here, just in case you or someone you know would fit, and also so that you can learn a bit about my research!

What are some ways that unexpected knowledge has shown up in your house? It’s so fun seeing the interesting and novel ways our kids’ brains work, I’d love to hear your stories in the comments!

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After hearing Kieran Rose talk about limerence in a recent Q&A, I’ve found myself thinking about how it shows up for PDAers. Limerence is a term coined by psychologist Dorothy Tennov in the 1970s to describe a feeling of infatuation with another person. She originally envisioned it a romantic feeling, but people use the word in different ways today, including for strong platonic attachments.

Limerence has been framed as a negative experience of unrequited, obsessive love. But Kieran described it as an experience that can be beautiful and mutual. I prefer this more nuanced interpretation, where limerence can be either positive or negative, much like other forms of attachment. This broader framing also helps me make sense of several deep and encompassing social connections in my own life, especially as a child and young adult. These days, with my own teens and in the families I support, I have a front row seat in observing how intense friendships and shifting social dynamics can take center stage in adolescence.

Rabbi wrote a great piece about Autistic limerence, which explores what happens when a person becomes a special or intense interest. Thinking back on my own past experiences, I’d also like to expand the conversation around shared experiences of limerence.

Deep Friendships as Mirroring

and I talked briefly about our experiences of what might be called the PDA “obsession with people” (though limerence is such a nicer word!) in episode 2 of PDA: Resistance and Resilience at the 30 and 48 minute marks.

We described the internal experience of these kinds of deep connections not as “obsession,” but rather as mirroring. When I think back on my closest friendships, I notice there was always a deep intellectual component. I was fascinated by the friend felt like my person in the world, yes, but I was also captivated by our shared discussions and ways of making sense of the world - which literally shaped a feeling of a different reality. It’s hard to articulate the world building I experienced with several different friends over time as a teenager, except to say that our conversations and time together felt more real than the rest of the external world.

Chris also talked about these kinds of experiences, and noted in the podcast episode: “these were the people in my whole life who saw me, who got me, who could be safe people, who were people who brought me like zest and joy in every interaction because of that.”

PDA: Resistance and Resilience

What Is PDA, Really?

In episode 2, Marni and Chris dive into the question, What is PDA?—not just how it’s defined by others, but how it feels in our bodies and shows up across our lives. We explore how definitions grounded in childhood behaviors can fall short when you're trying to understand yourself as an adult—and why lived experience should be at the center of the conve…

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a year ago · 10 likes · 3 comments · Marnina Kammersell and Chris Wells

For neurodivergent folks, feeling seen and understood is rare, so it makes sense that when we find a special connection we often hang on to it like a life raft. Limerence also allows for expanding into new areas of interest, like when that best friend or romantic partner introduces you to new music, hobbies, or ideas.

I also mentioned in that episode that my friendship patterns as an adult are much more balanced. Secure in my long-term relationship with my partner, I have many friends now, rather than only wanting one very “best” friend. I don’t think I’ve experienced limerence in many years (which I am a bit wistful about, because while stable relationships have been healthier for me, the ups and downs of those early infatuations were novel and exhilarating).

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Though I am also thinking about my early years of motherhood, the deep connection with my babies and toddlers, and how that could also be seen through the view of limerence! I felt a physical loss when I wasn’t with them and a strong pull back towards our cozy (sticky, sometimes smothering, but also lovely) shared world. I’ve heard other Autistic mothers describe how parenting became an intense interest, and also a wide range of related topics: natural birth, child development, nutrition, education, making things, time in nature… And then as they get older, we get drawn into all of the unique interests our children develop: fantasy worlds, Minecraft, obscure science facts, history documentaries, cryptids, circus arts, dragons, weird corners of YouTube, and more.

But not all intensity is sustaining. There are real downsides to experiencing life this way.

The Dark Side of Limerence

Deep passions are often uplifting, but it’s easy to feel adrift when they end. In her piece on limerence, Rabbi Shoshana points out that intense interests are an important source of both joy and regulation for Autistic people—and when that interest requires another human being, accessing that joy and regulation becomes more complicated and less reliable:

If our special interest is a topic, new skill, social cause, or even a distant celebrity, we can access our self-regulation as much as our own limitations allow. We can study it, join fandoms, work towards completion of a project, decorate our clothes or room with its theme, etc. The object of interest does not make its own limits. Nor does it pay attention to us. We pay attention to it. We are in control of how we engage.

But when a person is the special interest, it’s different. A person can choose to ignore us, give us mixed messages, trigger attachment patterns, make and break promises, be unavailable when we want them to be available, be uncomfortable with the attention we are giving them, or any other number of inconvenient truths.

—Rabbi Shoshana, Autistic Limerence

In recognizing the downsides to these kinds of all-encompassing friendships, I’ve encouraged my own teens to seek a wider variety of relationships than I did at their ages. To look outside of having that one special person, and instead to get social needs met in a variety of different ways. With mixed success.

It is a very Autistic style of friendship for all the reasons noted above—mirroring, world building, and a flow of new fascinations to explore. Additionally, having one solid good friend (or romantic interest) is less overwhelming than trying to negotiate social dynamics with more than one other person at a time, especially when we’re talking about young and still developing humans.

Neurodivergent Lens

Examining two sides of limerence—both the nourishment and the instability—has helped me feel more compassionate towards my younger self, and also more understanding of the teens in my life now.

Having language for these experiences at all is one of the reasons I’m grateful to have become aware of neurodivergence later in life, and found my way into ND community.

Now I’d love to hear from you! Are you “all-in or all-out” on friendships, or do you take a lighter approach in relationships?

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Life update: I have 18 drafts in my Substack writer’s dashboard. Snippets of half formed ideas, many of them dictated into my phone at 2am when I couldn’t sleep. Actually, one of the biggest barriers to my publishing posts is that I started HRT and am actually sleeping well most nights for the first time in years! Last night I was up in the wee hours of the morning, which we can all thank for this post going out today.

There are other things too. I passed my Comprehensive Exams and Dissertation Proposal in November, and I’m now waiting on IRB approval to start my research on family resilience in unschooling families of PDAers. I’m so excited for this and look forward to sharing more in the coming months.

Two new podcasts!

I’m bad at self-promotion (PDA strikes again), but I joined Bright Conversations with Shontaye Jones back in September to talk about PDA and autonomy-supportive education—and I wanted to share it here as I really enjoyed the discussion: https://creators.spotify.com/pod/profile/bright-ideas-media/episodes/Neuroaffirming-Learning-Supporting-Families--Children-with-PDA-and-Beyond-e384a8u

A new episode of PDA: Resistance and Resilience dropped this morning as well, and it’s a great one about mentoring with a good friend of mine, Dr. Amy Clark. Enjoy!

PDA: Resistance and Resilience

Mentoring PDAers With Trust and Curiosity

In episode 8, Marni and Chris talked with Dr. Amy Clark, whose doctoral research uncovered why mentoring is uniquely powerful for PDA learners. Amy explains what real mentoring looks like: attunement, autonomy, flexibility, and deep curiosity. We discuss why traditional educational models fail PDA kids, how burnout happens, why praise can backfire, and …

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9 months ago · Marnina Kammersell and Chris Wells

Something I like to talk with new home educators about is creating a rhythm, not a schedule.

A schedule is what we see in schools - daily timestamps of what will happen at each time of the day. Necessary with large groups of children perhaps (though they manage to do it different at Sudbury and other self-directed schools), but we have other options at home.

Rhythm is more about creating flexible patterns that can give some structure to our days and weeks, while maintaining lots of space for spontaneity, falling down rabbit holes (often one of the best ways to learn), and rest.

Outside classes and commitments are one way to think about setting up the bones of a weekly rhythm. For us at the moment that looks like science group Mondays, enrichment class Wednesdays, nature group Fridays. Tuesdays and Thursdays planned for more or less home days with a few online classes (and consulting clients for me), though they’ll inevitably also get filled with dentist visits, oil changes, and other life stuff.

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For some PDA1 kids, the rhythm is more likely to be filled with flexible options like parkour open gym, a weekly drop in library program, and a general idea of when a neighborhood friend usually gets home from school and is available to play. Others find ways to access more “typical” homeschool community activities like those I outlined above. It varies a lot.

Around those kinds of community activities, one thing that has worked for us (to varying degrees for various kids at various times, ha) is a version of a morning basket or morning pages.

A morning basket is simply a basket filled with learning materials and activities based on current interests. It might have the current read aloud book, Science five-minute-mysteries, a Where’s Waldo, mad-libs, a good interactive math book, and more. So much learning can happen entirely through engagement together, no writing required, especially at young ages.

We’ve often had both a morning basket and some version of a loose checklist for the day, which is based on our co-developed plans and agreements. This isn’t a completely top-down, adult-chosen list of assignments, but rather a way to give some additional support around meeting personal goals. It’s also flexible.

For us, those checklists have usually included a mix of academic activities, movement/outside time, ways to help around the house, and an idea of anything else happening in the day.

My teens are in a different phase now of maintaining their own digital calendars and keeping up with outside classes they’ve chosen. I will say math is one of the pieces we’ve kept as working together and it happens somewhat sporadically, which takes longer, but is okay.

I gave up on the idea of an academic rhythm for my 9-year-old PDA child during the several years of burnout we navigated together, and that was absolutely the right decision for a long time. Nervous system safety has to take precedence over everything else.

So it’s been an interesting shift to see morning pages coming back into our lives a few times a week, with a decidedly PDA twist. One evening he bustled through the living room with an armful of supplies headed upstairs, clearly with an exciting project underway. When I was invited up a bit later there was an entire storefront and menu advertising the opening of a new shop that would do jobs for a small reasonable cost, 1 cent per job, or $1 for an all day pass.

A penny for engagement with unloading the dishwasher, wiping down counters, and sweeping the floors all seemed like a great deal! We had a solid week or two of shop-provided labor. Before long the novelty of the 1 cent jobs did wear off and the shop was closed more often than it was open, but on certain days the $1 all day pass is still available. And hence the return of daily list.

I know from other parents of PDA kids that sustained engagement with academics didn’t feel possible for many until late adolescence or beyond. I also know from reading stories from Sudbury and other self-directed education approaches that motivated young people can quickly move through large amounts of academic material.

And even beyond that, I’ve seen with my own teens how even during times when we aren’t working through academics together, they are still learning and gaining skills, which usually correlate to some increased knowledge of more conventional academics. As a society we are taught that children have to be forced to learn and guided through every bit of the way, but it just isn’t true. Humans are born to learn and explore; while doing the things they love, kids will inevitably grow in other ways as well.

I am delighted, but no longer surprised, when I observe a child who has learned to spell much more accurately while typing messages in Minecraft or a teen who has a nuanced understanding of a scientific principle, well beyond my own, that they learned from YouTube.

This is how learning happens in the wild. Non-linear, interest-based, and on a much more as-needed basis. (This is, incidentally, also how learning retention happens even for people in school - a great book on this topic is The Book of Learning and Forgetting by Frank Smith)

So this week I’m enjoying the revival of morning pages for a kid that I wasn’t sure would ever engage with this kind of process, while also holding it lightly as to whether this specific tool will continue to be useful. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that home education and our kids too are always adapting and changing.

-Marni

Please leave a comment! Tell me how your Fall is going, if you think I’m a terrible home educating parent for paying my kid to hang out with me and listen to a read aloud (okay, maybe you don’t need to tell me that), or whatever else suits your fancy.

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Let’s see, there have been several exciting things this month!

I had a chapter published in this new book, The Ungraded Classroom by Carlo Ricci and Gina Riley. It’s a wonderful collection of stories about learning without conventional metrics!

On the podcast, and I talked with Becca Campbell about traveling as PDAers. We’re taking a short break from recording while Chris moves and I am feverishly writing my dissertation proposal, but we have a couple of episodes in the pipeline that should come out soon.

PDA: Resistance and Resilience

Traveling with PDA

In episode 6, Chris and Marni talk with Becca Campbell, an ADHD PDAer raising an ADHD PDAer and the founder of Matching Sweaters Travel Company…

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a year ago · 5 likes · 2 comments · Marnina Kammersell and Chris Wells

The Stanford Neurodiversity Summit went well. I especially enjoyed getting to hang out with new friends!

In October I’ll be presenting about PDA at the Schools of the Future conference in Honolulu. (I don’t know why my head looks squished in this photo, but it’s pretty funny)

I desperately miss the days when being a home ed family meant our calendar existed separately from the outside world rhythms. When late-August meant we joyfully reclaimed the parks, pools and museums that we had all to ourselves again, alongside other homeschoolers. (No shade to school-goers, but as an Autistic human, I like my peopling activities to include a lot of space to spread out). This time of year used to be all about observing little signs of change in the weather and the forest, where we would sit for hours with friends.

Not so much these days. Our young people are involved in a variety of activities and programs which require a good ol’ American style color-coded calendar and intense logistics to make it all happen. And this is despite having a brand new teen driver who can take themselves places!

The not-back-to-school season is kicking my ass. Organizing our science co-op, Girl Scout camping trips and meetings, navigating several different drop off programs, managing mentors and therapies for my PDAer, supporting executive function for my community college goer, and more.

Plus math at home. I actually love math, but finding the just-right-windows to fit it in is exhausting. The stars need to align for the ideal combination of time availability, interest, energy, and a quiet enough house. So we’re usually working with suboptimal conditions. And it’s times two, with both older kids wanting to have focused time for math, and needing support with it.

Not to mention my personal projects (!) - consulting clients, dissertation proposal writing, classes, podcasting, work with local friends (see #2 below!), and preparing conference presentations.

So once again I’m just squeaking in under my self-imposed, once-a-month writing deadline here on Substack, and apologies that it isn’t more substantial or lyrical. (I’m tired.) But I do have some work and opportunities to share with you!

1. Chris and I talked with our friend of Divergent Dialogues about our experiences as adult PDAers. It was a great conversation and I hope you’ll check it out, as well as Caitlin’s other work.

PDA: Resistance and Resilience

Living on Our Own Terms

In episode 5, Marni and Chris talked with Caitlin Hughes, a multi-exceptional (Autistic, ADHD, Gifted) Accredited Mental Health Social Worker and founder of Cathartic Collaborations, a neurodivergent-affirming private practice in Brisbane, Australia…

Listen now

a year ago · 7 likes · Marnina Kammersell, Chris Wells, and Caitlin Hughes

2. This is specifically for local readers in Boulder and Broomfield counties. I’ve been hard at work on a resource for parents and caregivers of Autistic kids about understanding and accessing local supports. I’m really proud of this and hope it helps someone! We’ll be getting this out in other ways through the Louisville Family Center and our personal networks and I’m sharing it here first.

   

   View Only Link or you can download it below.

   

   Boco Resources For Parents Of Autistic Youth Guide Final

   51.1MB ∙ PDF file

   Download

   Download

3. I will be giving two panel presentations at the Stanford Neurodiversity Summit in September:

   "What Happens When Autistic People Lead" with the absolutely amazing Yellow Ladybugs (!!), an Australian-based Autistic-led advocacy organization
   

   -and-

   
   "PDA Through the Lifespan" with my new friends Mady Snyder, Molly Herold, and Heidi Wheeler which is also going to be so great, it’s all about PDA lived experience
   
   This conference can be viewed online for $25. Register here: https://lnkd.in/g7nwV_iF

   

Okay, having written that all down, it’s fair enough that August has been a lot. Onward and upward to September. :)

As always, I love to hear from you in the comments. What do you love about Fall? Is this season feeling somewhat manageable or already overly full for you too?

Marni

It’s again a struggle to write as the world continues to crash down and we witness genocide abroad, kidnapping and torture within our own country, ever increasing racism and fascism… still looking for small ways I can make a difference, but also, nature is grounding and needed.

I went for a hike all by myself this morning. This is fairly rare, despite living within an hour of some of the best hiking trails in the US. With three young people in our family, my husband and I usually each take a kid or two along if we are planning to go out for recreation.

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Today, we are on a family trip in the high mountains of Colorado and there are gorgeous trails just a few steps from the home where we are staying, so it was easier to get away. And the wildflowers! It’s hard to do them justice in photos.

Hiking alone is so good my soul, for reconnecting with myself as a human separate from being a mother, partner, student, writer, thinker, do-er… Just taking time to be.

Aimless wandering in woods takes me back to my own adolescent years.

When I was 12, my mother remarried, and we moved from the Detroit suburb of Pontiac to a more rural Michigan village. We move into an old house on a dirt road surrounded by lilacs. It was full of mice, so we soon brought home a cat.

My new stepfather was the caretaker of a summer campground with 80 acres of land and cabins spread around a lake. I had free run of the land and spent many days tucked in amongst the trees, reading my books, watching fish in the pond, and staying out into the late summer evenings to catch fireflies. (Michigan is on the edge of a time zone, so mid-summer sunsets can be close to 10pm! This was a magical thing to share with my tween daughter last year when we visited family)

Eventually, after I started at the new school, I met other young people who lived on the other side of the lake which was about a half mile walk through the woods. Many days were spent making the trek over to their neighborhood. This was before widespread cell phones and certainly before middle schoolers had them. Some days I was out from sunrise to sunset, and as a parent of current teens and tweens that sort of boggles my mind. Perhaps my mother had the phone number of one of the other parents on the other side of the lake? I’ll have to ask her. Perhaps we made agreements about what time I would be home. Either way, I had a lot of freedom as a teen.

My oldest turned 16 and got his driver’s license this summer. That’s the same age I was when I left home for college, and never returned afterwards for more than a few months at a time. I hope I get to keep my wildlings home for quite awhile longer still. There’s still so much more I want to do with them, so many conversations, walks, dinners, just opportunities to be there as much or as little as they need us.

Sixteen! I think it was the right thing for me at the time, but it’s wild.

I reflect on my mother’s courage and wisdom in letting me go and then supporting me from a distance, and hope that I can do it with as much grace as she did when the time comes.

Later that night, I slow down and take time to watch the sunset with my tween from the balcony of the condo where we are staying. We curl up under blankets to watch a lightning storm unfurl across the sky in the distance. Better than fireworks, we say.

Four out of five of us play a tile word game, Bananagrams, and as the game winds down I’m inspired to start spelling cuss words for the fun of it. My tween, the one who is most likely to push boundaries, feigns complete innocence.

There is way too much gamer YouTube in his life for this to be accurate.

He makes a game out of rearranging each swear word into something else, displaying spelling skills I didn’t know he had.

My husband and I enjoy sharing all the swear words we can think of and searching the web just to be sure we didn’t miss any. We don’t swear much at home and our kids don’t much either.

So it’s good to just say all those words out loud in a happy family setting, to lift the veil on any hidden allure, and to show that we will welcome all of their parts and explorations.

An important moment in their home education, and we all end up laughing hysterically. I try to drag our oldest out of the bedroom where he’s holed up, but he’s emphatic that he can hear every word and is just fine where he is.

I later deliver a snack plate to him before I go to sleep, knowing he’ll be awake for several more hours, and often misses breakfast so needs the calories.

Originally I had planned to write about the ups and downs of summer road tripping, all the annoyances and squabbles, perhaps the times of stuckness with a PDAer. Those were certainly there too.

But I’m happy to instead be writing down these quieter moments of connection, and grateful to be in a place where I think these will be our primary memories of this trip, instead of the hard or sad moments (which were much more common on last summer’s road trip!). Progress for sure.

How is your summer going? I’m wishing you all both moments of quiet reflection and joyful connection. The busy season of Fall feels just around the corner now!

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In other news!

• Check out the latest episode of my podcast with Chris Wells,. A new one is out today where we chat with about functioning labels in the context of PDA, gifted and 2e.

• We are doing a second round of the full “Safe and Sound” Protocol (SSP) at home. We first completed SSP two years ago, and last summer we did a shorter course of the newer “Rest and Refresh” protocol while displaced from our house. It feels a little different this time, and I’m curious to see what it might shift for us. Let me know if you’d like to hear more! For more on SSP and soothing the nervous system, check out this recent two part series from Chris, Emma, and Autum on Positive Disintegration. They talk about PDA as well.

  Positive Disintegration

  Polyvagal Pathways to Connection: Part 1

  In episode 77, Chris and Emma were joined by Autum Romano, an educator, bodyworker, and author from Colorado Springs, CO. This is the first in a two-part conversation exploring polyvagal theory and its relevance to personality development, healing, and human connection…

  Listen now

  a year ago · 7 likes · 5 comments · Chris Wells and Emma Nicholson
  Positive Disintegration

  Polyvagal Pathways to Connection: Part 2

  In episode 78, we continued our rich and engaging conversation with Autum Romano, an educator, bodyworker, and author from Colorado Springs, CO. This is the second in a two-part conversation exploring polyvagal theory and its relevance to personality development, healing, and human connection…

  Listen now

  a year ago · 6 likes · 2 comments · Chris Wells and Emma Nicholson

• from is doing a series of posts on low demand, including a podcast interview with Eliza Fricker. I always appreciate Fran’s work. Check it out!

Last month, I sat at a playground with my 9-year-old, high on a hill overlooking a school. The Rocky Mountains stretched wide in the distance under a sky of rolling clouds. The air was cool and crisp, the shifting sky taking the edge off the sharp Colorado sun.

We drove RC cars along the bumpy, mulched paths and played hide and seek in the twisty slides and tubes — me contorting my adult-sized body into the meager hiding places. As we played, we watched the kids below. Groups spilled out in lines, then scattered across the separate, fenced-off playground. Shrieks and chatter filled the air. Then, at the ring of a bell, the lines re-formed. The kids tumbled back inside. A few minutes later, another bell, another line. The same dance, repeated.

My young person looked down at the scene and called out, “Look at the prisoners!”

These moments come up a lot, either through observation in the world or in books. Most children’s lives and stories are inextricably intertwined with school. I try to offer some nuance.

“Some kids really like school.”

“School can be a safe place for some kids.”

But, I don’t try to argue too much. That was my experience too — as an unidentified Autistic kid, school felt like a prison. Or maybe more like a long, slow, boring conveyor belt I was stuck on, with just a few blips of actual interest, and a constant background hum of sensory overload.

This kid has never been to school, so these aren’t personal reflections. It’s more of a conceptual revulsion - Most kids do what?! Go to one building, with that many screaming swarming children, banded up into groups of twenty, where adults tell them what to do all day long - EVERYDAY? Heck no.

I get it. In the early years of our homeschooling, I felt so lucky to be able to spend all day with my kids living wild and free. I still do.

And.

As they’ve gotten older, with disparate interests and a PDAer who won’t engage with many of the homeschool opportunities, there are days now where I fantasize about sending them all to different wonderful schools that could meet all of their needs so that I wouldn’t be pulled in so many directions at once.

I know from friends with kids in school that this is a pipe dream. But a tantalizing fantasy nonetheless.

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It comes up again later that night while we’re reading Calvin and Hobbes and I pause to explain the concept of needing a “Hall Pass” to go to the bathroom. Instant revulsion.

I’d make up a bunch of them and sell them for $100 each, then escape through the vent system.

School rules and culture do sound strange and dystopian to young people who have never lived inside them. When I reach back to my own school days and share stories about what it was like for me, my children are incredulous.

I woke up too early, always out of sync with my body, but without space to reflect on that. I rode the bus for hours every day, always with a book in hand, though the noise made it hard to read. In high school, the shop teacher told such a gory story about a thumb dangling by a tendon that I passed out cold in front of the whole class. I’d hide out in the library or sit on the floor next to my locker just to escape the lunchroom. Thankfully my mother was generous with mental health days.

I remember almost nothing about middle school except staying up half the night and sleepwalking through classes, probably the first time I experienced burnout from the lack of autonomy.

There were bright spots too.

Other kids I connected with. Inside jokes. Teachers who shared things that sparked new interests, or ideas that stuck with me — often sarcastic critiques of school, now that I think about it.

I can still recite Jack Prelutsky’s Homework! Oh Homework! that I performed on stage with my third grade class. There was a wry middle school teacher named Mr. Brundage. I don’t remember what he taught, maybe history, but I know he made a difference offering sparks of humor in otherwise bleak days. Maybe he was the one who handed me a copy of Lies My Teacher Told Me, an irreverent classic that criticizes how history is taught in America.

My high school math teacher became a true friend, supporting me in all kinds of ways, including helping me apply to college early in 10th grade. Mentors made a huge difference in my life.

School is complicated. I try to convey to my kids that yeah, there are many reasons we chose to do life differently, but there can also be really good things about school.

Over the past few years I have really grappled with the reality that we need more caring adults in our kids’ lives. In the early years of homeschooling we were enveloped by community in a way that has been hard to maintain post-pandemic and with busy teenagers.

And so I’ve spent the past year putting more supports in place.

The almost-teen who loves certain kinds of structured activities with friends now has full-day programs built into their week. One of those programs is a one-day-a-week enrichment program run through the public schools for homeschoolers that they have long attended and loved.

The teen who doesn’t thrive in those settings and prioritizes sleeping until 11am has weekly mentoring, a couple of carefully chosen community college classes, and may add a teen naturalist group this fall.

For the PDAer who rejects all structured activities that don’t involve candy (and even then, there’s no guarantee), I’ve finally figured out some things that work, at least for now. Super flexible speech and OT, plus college-age mentors who come to the house a couple of times a week.

School hasn’t yet been the right fit for any of the young people in our family, though we keep that possibility open. Unschooling isn’t perfect either. It can be hard to find the kind of support kids should ideally have access to in school, like dyslexia support, and we’ve had to piece it together with sheer will and a lot of trial and error.

I still love the tapestry we are weaving together, and feel like we’re doing the best we can for these particular kids, in this particular season.

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Exciting news! This week I’m launching a new podcast PDA: Resistance and Resilience with my good friend Dr. , where we’re talking more about our experiences of PDA and also interviewing others with perspectives to share. The first episode will be available on Tuesday. You can subscribe for updates:

PDA: Resistance and Resilience

Episode 1 drops Tuesday, June 17

We’re excited to announce that the first episode of our new podcast, PDA: Resistance and Resilience, will go live on Tuesday, June 17…

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a year ago · 6 likes · Chris Wells and Marnina Kammersell

Those gut wrenching, “Wait—what did we agree to?!” moments? Pretty common around here.

Supporting young people in taking risks and making their own choices is hard.

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We went to a big amusement park yesterday with friends, and two of our young PDAers (I’m using “they” for both kids here for privacy) decided to ride the Mind Bender, a suspended roller coaster that dangles your legs over open air and is built to make teens and adults scream. Just the two of them, since everyone over age ten in our group declined.

They sat in the front.

It did not go well.

For many years I parented kids who almost always made decisions I was comfortable with.

My PDA child has been pushing their limits and mine since they were four. I’ve come to accept that they’re someone who mostly has to learn by making their own choices, for better or worse (and sometimes a lot worse). I try to step in when they’re in imminent danger, but it’s often not clear where that line is.

Riding a coaster built for much older bodies and minds turned out to be a gray area. Their verdict afterward? “0/10 would not recommend.”

In retrospect, I wish I’d nudged them toward more middle-ground rides—like the spiny Tilt-a-Whirl or something that only flirted with going upside down. It had been years since I rode a big coaster, and I’d forgotten the details. The one they picked, after not much more than a few spins through Kiddie Land? It was a lot.

I was terrified for all 96 second of the ride. It felt like an analogy for parenting PDA kids.

Afterward, they needed something to help reset after the scary experience.

Our friend seemed able to talk it through with their parent and get some private comfort.

My kiddo was agitated and quiet. As we sat down to regroup and eat the lunches we’d packed, they stared at the fast food stand and said:

“I’m sick of all the food you brought and I’m really hungry.”

I could, and did, see this as a form of equalizing. Spending money is often how this young person feels more in control and thus safer when something has been overwhelming.

In the past, I would’ve gotten stuck right there: But I packed “healthy” lunches.

I could also see this was an amazing act of self-advocacy. This is a kid who rarely shares their inner experience, and it’s taken a lot of work to learn to listen between the words and to believe them.

The unsaid piece was something like:

“I chose to do this thing neither of us really understood. Now my body feels awful and I’m barely holding it together. I need food I can actually eat to help me feel better.”

Ah. The $20 hamburger suddenly felt like a deal.

Our family culture hasn’t usually included buying overpriced amusement park food, for a lot of reasons.

And I could see it was a real need in this moment. They needed food and safety after a terrifying experience, and the PB&J just wasn’t cutting it.

The hamburger was declared “the best they’d ever eaten,” and after eating every bite, we rode a few more rides. Then they advocated to go home. Clearly exhausted, a little whiny, but no meltdowns, and no getting stuck on buying cotton candy.

(Seriously, why is America so overrun with horrifying amounts of sugar?)

PDA parenting has changed me. The cost-benefit decisions we make daily are way outside my comfort zone. It pushes and stretches me all the time.

Holding tightly to my “right choices” and trying to model “good decisions” never worked for this kid. I had to let go.

I had to recognize that they needed to make their own choices, both good and bad. If I couldn’t mostly support that, we had to just stay home.

(And sometimes we do that too)

We’re often navigating outside my comfort zone now, but I also see the power and promise in kids who have to do it their own way.

The idea that I could make all the right choices for my kids was always an illusion. That is crystal clear as they get into their teen years and PDA kids just push us there a bit sooner.

Parenting, like roller coasters, sometimes means strapping in, holding your breath, and trusting that you’ll all make it through the twists together.

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Have you found yourself letting go of “the right choices” in favor of connection or trust? Feel free to share in the comments. I always love hearing from you.

Two upcoming events!

This Sunday – June 8
9:20 AM Mountain / 11:20 AM Eastern
On Their Own Terms: Recognizing Giftedness in PDA Kids
Gifted Home Ed 2025: DIY Education Conference (Free to attend live, RSVP in the Forum)
Presenters: Marni Kammersell & Marna Wohlfeld

It can be easy to miss areas of strength when they are wrapped in defiance, anxiety, and fierce autonomy. In this session, we’ll take a closer look at the intersection of giftedness and PDA. We’ll explore what giftedness can look like in kids with PDA profiles, why traditional markers like compliance, academic performance, or curiosity-on-demand often fall flat, and how parents and professionals can reframe their understanding.

Thursday, July 10
6 PM Mountain / 8 PM Eastern
Seeing the Whole Child: Strength-Based Assessment for PDA Kids
Hosted by PDA North America ($39, financial assistance available)
Presenters: Jade Rivera and Marni Kammersell

Traditional assessments often overlook the complex profiles of PDAers, focusing on deficits instead of talents and interests. In this session, we’ll explore how strength-based assessment can support the unique capacities, interests, and needs of PDA youth. Drawing from our combined experience across public, private, and homeschooling environments, we’ll share practical tools and insights that support more accurate, affirming, and empowering understandings of PDAers.

I learned this morning that April 30 is the “Day of the Homeschooled Child,” organized by the Coalition for Responsible Home Education (CRHE). I’ve followed CRHE and their advocacy on behalf of homeschooled children who are abused and neglected for a few years.

I don’t always agree with the specifics of the protections they advocate for, because I am not at all convinced that stringent academic requirements are the best way to protect children.

That said, I am in favor of reasonable regulation of homeschooling such as the system we have here in Colorado, which requires registering homeschooled students annually by sending a simple email of intent to homeschool and completing either a standardized assessment or an evaluation every other year. That bar is low and seems like a minimal standard to protect children’s wellbeing.

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I try to listen carefully to the stories of adults who feel they were harmed by their childhood experiences under the guise of “homeschooling,” although . This article, Stomach-curdling shame, by is a worthwhile read for those us who care about alternative education options, and also children’s autonomy:

Homeschooling parents brag about personalized education for their children, but in my community, that wasn’t the case. By the time my peers and I reached high school, our parents would hand us a stack of books with instructions to finish before the end of the school year. Individualized learning meant that the size of our book stack depended on how much unpaid labor our parents needed from us.

Ouch. This doesn’t even sound like homeschooling in the way that I conceptualize it, which requires an available and involved adult. And yet, this next sentence hits home in a different way:

Life always got in the way, so our school year ran pretty much year-round.

Because this is true in our family. Life often does get in the way, and certain things never quite get the attention that I’d hoped — which is how we find ourselves here, at the beginning of May, about 40% through an algebra course with my teen, planning to wrap it up over the summer.

I hope, and believe, that my children will remember their childhoods as supportive. When something like math slips down the priority list, it’s usually because it’s not their priority right now, and we’ve chosen to focus on the things that matter most to them in this season. When they express a desire to learn something, and I don’t have the time or energy to explore it with them, I try to find a class or another avenue they can explore.

But I also recognize that there have been seasons when one family member’s needs have overshadowed another’s. And I know that the way I experienced those times as a home-educating parent, doing my best, may not be how my children remember them years from now. There have been moments when a child wanted support or attention, and it just wasn’t possible to provide it in the way we both would have wanted. Sometimes those moments weren’t rare or occasional; sometimes they happened regularly, as our family struggled under the weight of three young people’s needs and only one or two available adults.

We’ve had real struggles, and it has taken time and effort to get additional supports in place, so that we now can meet most needs most of the time. We live in a society where, instead of having a village to lean on, families often have to rely on paid support — which brings difficult decisions and constant tradeoffs. Luckily, our kids are now reaching the teen and tween stage, so that they’re more able to wait when needed, and handle some of their own needs independently. I think we are past our very hardest days.

Of course, this isn’t just a homeschooling experience. I went to school myself, and there were plenty of times in my own childhood when my needs weren’t met, despite the best intentions of my parents.

As notes in her excellent piece titled When Homeschooling goes bad, “both schooling and homeschooling (and unschooling, actually) can be coercive, traumatic and harmful.”

a life unschooled

When homeschooling goes bad.

A few admin-y things before I get into it, scroll to the end of the post for…

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2 years ago · 25 likes · 19 comments · Fran Liberatore

There’s a real dilemma here.

As a society, I believe we have a responsibility to ensure that children — all children — have access to a life beyond the confines of their nuclear families, especially when those families are insular or intentionally limiting their children’s choices. Tara Westover’s memoir Educated offers a powerful example of this: she recounts growing up in an isolated, restrictive religious household with little formal education, and how she eventually made her way to college despite significant abuse.

At the same time, I can see how attempts to impose “community” or outside intervention could very quickly go wrong. As a parent of a child with a PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance/Persistent Drive for Autonomy) profile, I can tell you that many of us would love for our children to be more able to access society and community spaces. From the outside, it might look like we’re restricting them, when in reality, we’re often just struggling — doing the very best we can to meet their needs when those needs are often in conflict with what we have been told is “good parenting.”

There’s no simple solution to this tension between autonomy, protection, and community access. In the current political situation we find ourselves in in the U.S., I’m more concerned than ever about authoritarian systems and high-control environments, including fundamentalist homeschooling.

One of my favorite writers on this topic here on Substack is . So much good writing in their newsletter:

Healing is My Special Interest

How to Survive When An End-Times Cult Takes Over Your Country

Welcome to Healing is My Special Interest, the newsletter at the intersection of healing from high control environments and late-diagnosed neurodivergence. I thought I was done writing about white evangelicals for a while but I had at least one more essay/zine in me. Here are some of my thoughts on what we are possibly in for and how to best live in our…

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2 years ago · 415 likes · 35 comments · D.L. Mayfield

Homeschooling, like any approach to raising and educating children, comes with its own mix of risks, gifts, challenges, and tradeoffs.

That’s why it’s so important to keep listening — especially to those who were once homeschooled themselves, even when their stories are uncomfortable or challenge our assumptions. And it’s why I believe we need reasonable regulation of homeschooling, though of course what counts as “reasonable” is open for thoughtful debate.

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I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. If you’re a homeschooling parent, how do you navigate the tension between wanting autonomy for your family and wanting to protect children at risk of harm? What kinds of reasonable regulations do you think should be in place around homeschooling? And do you find the laws in your area reasonable, or would you like to see them changed?

Also, a quick note: I had a new podcast interview drop this week with my friends and from Divergent Dialogues. It was a fun chat, I hope you enjoy it!

Divergent Dialogues

Episode #37 Self-Directed Learning and Unschooling with special guest Marni Kammersell

Become a paid subscriber and gain access to our Episode Guide PDFs. Scroll down for more information…

Listen now

a year ago · 5 likes · Caitlin Hughes, Teena Mogler, and Marnina Kammersell

We’ll talk through:

• What PDA is

• Why behavior charts, token systems, and even gentle nudges often don’t work

• How to support your child in ways that center regulation, safety, and relationship

• 10 practical strategies that help you work with your child, not against them

There will be time for Q&A! No recording will be sent out, so join us live if you are interested. And although YSA is aimed at neurodivergent kids who are also identified as gifted, this talk is appropriate for everyone.

Register here!

For years and years, I’ve said “I’m not a pet person.” I do like animals… particularly watching wild ones, in their natural habitats.

My favorite animal? The preying mantis. We had one for a week about ten years ago. We kept him in an enclosure and fed him flies, then released him once again into the back vegetable garden. I also like leaf insects. They’re pretty freaking cool, but I’ve never felt the need to have one in my house.

I’ve often joked that brine shrimp in a sealed ecosphere are my idea of an ideal pet. When I worked at the National Academy of Sciences, our nature museum had a huge brine shrimp aquarium set up. The gift shop sold these miniature versions that needed only the right amount of sunlight to be self-sustaining, which I thought were amazing. We had one for a year or two, and I felt like the interest to work ratio was just right.

I can appreciate the cuteness of a puppy or a kitten. But the only mammals I want to cuddle with (and am willing to help manage their bodily fluids) are human.

Two of my three kids, however, are pet people. They roll around with the dogs at grandma’s house, talk about them daily, and have a regular game of “playing puppy.” My daughter once had a much beloved pet snail, despite the lack of cuddle and interaction possibilities, and she was very responsible with their care (fun fact, snails are hermaphrodites that can self-fertilize their own eggs, so even with a single snail you have to be vigilant lest you end up with a sudden snail colony).

Still. The hair. The mess. The smell. Oh, the smell. The work.

Plus my third kid, who like me, is Not A Pet Person and is constantly on edge while sharing space with other living creatures.

So how did we go from initial discussion to pet owners in under a week?

Despite my own reservations, I’ve seen how regulating it is for my kids to spend time with an animal friend. I guess the thought has been percolating in the back of my mind for some time now. But I just didn’t see how all of our varying individual needs could be met.

I think it was a combination of seeing how much movement one of my more sedentary kids got while spending a day with a much loved dog friend, combined with inspiration from the cover of my current bedtime reading:

I suggested the possibility of a bearded dragon to my family just about a week ago. We had some familiarity from visits to our local reptile nature center, My Nature Lab, though it had been a few years. Things moved quickly from there, because I found the perfect guy who needed a new home on craigslist.

We’re on day 3 of officially being Pet Owners. It’s been a busy few days, especially because my husband’s been out of town. I feel like the dragon lovers in the family have played together and used our spaces more in these three days than they had in the entire past month. They’re also using things that I was just about to pass on, reading picture books to our new friend and experimenting with old toys.

Things change as young children grow into tweens and teens. Like many other families, ours have often tended towards their own interests in their own rooms. So this has brought some fun, variety, and even movement. My PDAer isn’t always motivated to go outside, but for the moment, he’s happy to go outside because his “best boy” needs UVB.

I had hoped that a pet, by providing both novelty and another safe nervous system, would help my PDA child to emerge a bit more from his silo of hyper-focus. I don’t necessarily worry about highly focused interests that crowd out everything else, but I do worry about lack of movement and fresh air. So far it’s been a very successful leap of faith. We’ll see how it goes once the novelty wears off.

I know it’s the beginning of a long love affair for my daughter, and it’s been quite fun to share in a new interest with her and even find it becoming a new hyper-focus of my own. My to-do list is screaming, but immersing myself in a tangible research project is surprisingly soothing amid the pain and chaos in the US.

Also, it turns out that reptile stores are excellent places to meet cool Autistic folks who are ready to share all about their Spins. I love a good info dump.

So maybe I am going to turn out to be a pet person after all? Or at least… this pet’s person.

Anyone else find unexpected joy in a hyper-focus lately? Or met kindred spirits in surprising places? I’d love to hear from you in the comments!

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• Moving back into our house after seven months of working through the repairs process after a massive dishwasher leak.

• Still working through the endless boxes, moving furniture, and finding new relationships with our space.

• Traveling to the PDA North America conference in Chicago.

• Binge watching the recent Unschooling Summit which was so beautifully co-created by a wide range of intersectional voices. There were many thoughtful conversations and panels that I found deeply impactful. Highly recommended!

• Supporting a kid through some invasive medical care which thankfully went well, and was still a lot for all of us.

• Finishing out TAing for a qualitative research course - I’m just about done with doctoral coursework and moving into the dissertation phase. I am finally reaching some clarity on the direction for my research. Lately I’ve been reading academic literature on family resiliency, which I plan to apply to the experiences of parents of Autistic, demand-avoidant young adults who were unschooled (say that ten times fast). It’s exciting, but also daunting to stay focused given the current state of the world.

The funny thing is that my brain composes newsletter posts in the shower, while driving, sitting in kids’ therapy sessions, all those moments when my mind is free to roam but my fingers can’t actually get it down in print. So I feel like there should be writing here from the past two months but it hasn’t somehow magically appeared in written form!

Reflections on the PDANA Conference

The PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) North America conference was held in Chicago, March 5-7. I attended in person and shared an Airbnb with my good friends, and Marna Wohlfeld. With them for company I couldn’t help but have a great time. Sadly, I didn’t manage to take any photos the whole weekend.

One of my favorite talks was Dr. ’s exploration of AuDHD, OCD, and PDA. I keep thinking about her observation of how school was both overstimulating and understimulating at the same time. What a particular form of torture that was for me as well! Thankfully, that kind of misaligned experience is vanishingly rare for me these days.

But I think the insight about the kind of stimulation needed for neurodivergent brains to be engaged at the “just right” level is intriguing in a variety of ways. If we think about unschooling neurodivergent kids, it makes sense why many spend a lot of time on screens. Literally the whole world (of information, at least) is there at their fingertips.

Returning to the PDANA conference, I was happy to see a strong focus on nervous system regulation from speakers like Amanda Diekman and Zach Morris. The intersectional voices panel was another highlight, adding essential depth to the PDA conversation which often skews heavily toward white experiences.

Finally, I talked to and learned from the experiences of a few adult PDAers and a lot of parents of PDA kids. Many of these families were currently in crisis. Some had young children who were recently identified. Others had teenagers and had been navigating challenges for a long time. For isolated parents, especially those who haven’t managed to connect with neurodivergent community in their areas, the conference was a unique opportunity to connect with others on a similar path.

As I sit writing this, my two younger children have just spent the last hour gleefully booby-trapping our house for April Fools’ Day. Working together—no fighting, all joy. These moments of regulation are happening more and more often for us. We still have tough times, but these days, the good moments outnumber the really hard ones. I wish I could go back three years and tell my younger self that we were going to be okay. So many parents of complex kids need to hear stories like this, but with details! I’m looking forward to finding and sharing more of them through my upcoming dissertation research.

Finally, for Autism Awareness month, The Experiment publishing company sent me a pre-publication copy of Nine Minds by Daniel Tammet. To be honest, I had some initial reservations—starting with the cover endorsement by Temple Grandin and the repeated use of the phrase “on the spectrum” which I’m not at all fond of. Autistic is not a dirty word and we don’t need a euphemism in 2025.

But I’m so glad I gave it a chance, because I ended up really enjoying this book!

Nine Minds is a collection of eight vivid vignettes, each offering a story from the inside perspective of a real Autistic adult. Tammet interviewed each person and then skillfully brought their experiences to life on the page. His writing is warm and respectful, and the result is both engaging and refreshingly humanizing. These are Autistic stories, instead of stories about autism.

One of my favorite discoveries was French politician Cédric Villani—I’d never heard of him before, and his stylistic idiosyncrasies were so endearing that I immediately had to go look up his photos online. Dan Aykroyd also gets a chapter, as do a Canadian surgeon, a British police detective, and a Japanese scholar. The variety of voices and global perspectives made this a standout read in the landscape of books about Autistic lives. It’s worth checking out for sure.

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So tell me—have you read anything lately that made you feel seen, challenged your thinking, or just plain delighted you? Or did you attend the PDA North America conference and/or the Unschooling Summit? I’d love to hear what’s been resonating with you lately—feel free to share in the comments!

- Marni

Last November, Marna Wohlfeld and I presented about PDA and giftedness for an audience of mostly gifted education specialists working in traditional classrooms. Our focus was on understanding PDA and supporting kids with a PDA profile in both school and home environments.

Afterward, I started hearing from a lot of parents of PDA kids who have questions about giftedness. What does it mean? How do you recognize it in a child with a PDA profile, especially if they won’t participate in adult-directed anything? How do you nurture a gifted kid without falling into all the pressure and expectations that come with the label? If we’re creating neuro-affirming, neurodivergent families, does the concept of giftedness even matter in the first place?

So today, I want to unpack some of that, because there’s a lot to explore.

What is Giftedness?

One common definition of giftedness is scoring at least two standard deviations above the norm on a cognitive measure, for example above 130 on the WISC. Yet IQ tests are a flawed measure with an appalling history of eugenics.

They disproportionately favor specific types of aptitudes, such as verbal ability (including the ability to use mouth words) and spatial abilities. Even within these narrow domains, many children, especially those who are neurodivergent, may be unable to fully demonstrate their true skills.

This is particularly true for PDA kids, who are more likely to refuse to participate in testing, may not engage fully if they do, and who likely have co-occurring experiences like anxiety or situational mutism. A child’s refusal to comply with testing is often interpreted as a lack of ability rather than a reflection of their unique processing style or unmet needs in the testing environment.

A skilled evaluator who is able to develop rapport with a child, who can break testing over multiple visits, and who feels genuine appreciation for each child’s unique strengths is more likely to elicit higher cognitive testing results.

Still, many argue that giftedness shouldn’t be reduced to an IQ score. There are other ways to conceptualize and recognize it.

Howard Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences expands the conventional view of intelligence by proposing that people possess a variety of intelligences, each equally valuable. These include linguistic, logical-mathematical, spatial, musical, bodily-kinesthetic, interpersonal, intrapersonal, and naturalistic intelligences (Gardner, 2011). Gardner’s framework highlights that people can make meaningful contributions to the world and find joy in all kinds of ways—not just in academics you can test, but also in practical, creative, and emotional skills. Even though some critics question the science behind it, his work is still a helpful way to see and appreciate strengths that often get overlooked.

Another influential approach to defining giftedness, which also aims to move beyond narrow metrics of achievement, comes from the Columbus Group, a collective of theorists including Linda Silverman. In 1991, they introduced a widely cited definition that focused on the inner experiences of the gifted:

“Giftedness is asynchronous development in which advanced cognitive abilities and heightened intensity combine to create inner experiences and awareness that are qualitatively different from the norm.” - (Columbus Group, 1991)

This definition highlights two elements of giftedness—asynchronous development and heightened intensity that are certainly commonly experienced by those who identify as gifted.

While I appreciate this definition, I’ve also encountered valid critiques. For instance, asynchronous development and heightened intensity aren’t exclusive to giftedness—they’re traits often seen across neurodivergent experiences and frequently described as being a part of a “spiky profile.”

Additionally, the phrase “advanced cognitive ability” raises questions about what qualifies as advanced and how it’s defined, especially when traditional measures like IQ tests can be inaccessible or unreliable.

So yes, giftedness is a problematic construct and an unfortunate choice of wording.

It doesn’t always feel like a gift, and it isn’t something that can necessarily be shaped to fit into capitalist ideals of productivity. Many of us have intense interests and unique ways of being that still don’t align with a 40-hour work week.

This is especially true because giftedness is a neurodivergence, giftedness usually co-occurs with other neurodivergences, and many of us also experience these as various kinds of disability in an unaccommodating society.

My friend Delia offers an alternative term: “Hyper-Connected Information Seeking” (HCIS) as a different way to conceptualize this experience. I like this framing because it shifts the focus to the intense drive for learning, connecting, and exploring that many of us experience.

Just like “autism” (we aren’t actually trapped inside our heads, it’s more about our intense sensory experiences and intense interests), “ADHD” (not an attention disorder), or “dyslexia” (a lot more complex than reading challenges), the term “giftedness” is a flawed label.

We are stuck with descriptive terms someone came up with that don’t accurate reflect the lived experience we are now exploring under the neurodiversity paradigm. Changing terminology is a slow process, but rethinking the way we talk about experiences is a good place to start.

Still, intellectual giftedness is a real experience. For those of us who navigated conventional schooling systems, the experience of being out-of-sync with schoolish expectations was a defining part of our lives. This disconnection often became central to how we understood ourselves and our environments.

Take a common example: a child enters kindergarten already reading chapter books but is still required to complete worksheets on basic letter sounds. This mismatch creates frustration, and for parents, it’s often a moment when they need to step in and advocate for their child’s needs. Boredom can itself be disabling and painful, especially for ADHDers, though this is true for all of us. Humans are not meant to sit still for hours at a time, suppressing their natural curiosity and inclinations to meet rigid performance expectations.

Understanding how giftedness and other neurodivergent experiences overlap is key to supporting these kids with complex profiles.

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Does Giftedness exist in unschooling?

But does giftedness exist out of the classroom? Many homeschooling and unschooling families understandably resist the term “gifted,” associating it with schoolish values and dictates.

In a home setting with a one-to-one teacher ratio and fully individualized learning, it’s not immediately clear why the term matters. Whether a child reads or does math at age three or age ten, they’re constantly learning in their own ways and exploring what interests them. As educational theorist John Holt would say, they’re learning all the time.

In my experience, I’ve noticed that many secular homeschooling parents were once identified as gifted themselves and often felt harmed by the intense academic pressures that came with that label. They followed the same unidentified-neurodivergent-kid-to-homeschooling-parent pipeline that I did (though my path also included a long-standing love affair with self-directed education, which cemented this approach long before my kids were even considered).

Other parents felt unsupported by conventional schooling themselves. Some struggled academically and are now seeking more expansive, flexible educational experiences for their own children.

As a young homeschooling parent with small kids, I didn’t think much about intellectual giftedness, even though the signs were there. My kids displayed advanced verbal ability, complex awareness, and a deep philosophical interest in the world well before age 5.

But these things were just our normal, in addition to the ways they struggled. The painful injustice of worms beached on the sidewalk after a rain led to hours of saving the ones we could.

Now, with my lens being deeply influenced by the awareness of giftedness itself as a neurodiverent experience, which often co-exists along with other neurodivergent experiences, these things are all so much clearer.

When I hear a parent of a young child around three or four who is noticing signs of intellectual giftedness and asking for curriculum recommendations, I want to tell them: This is likely just the tip of the iceberg and it will take years for you to understand your family’s experiences. Start exploring neurodivergent spaces, because you’ll need them as your child goes through complex developmental shifts. And yes, foster their gifts and passions, but do it through play. All children learn best through play, and they have have an innate awareness and desire to explore in their “zone of proximal development.” Trust them to lead the way.

PDA and Giftedness

When it comes to kids with a PDA profile, considering giftedness gets complicated. Some PDA kids can manage to complete cognitive testing like the WISC, and many do test in the gifted range, especially with a skilled evaluator who takes time to build rapport. But as noted above, intelligence testing is a flawed measure and it’s particularly problematic for Autistic kids who often have different communication styles and highly spiky profiles.

Then there are PDA kids who flat-out refuse to participate in adult-directed testing. They won’t perform on demand and can sniff out any attempt to probe what they know. As my own PDAer likes to say, often and loudly, “This isn’t school!” (Which is especially funny, since he’s never been to school).

So why does understanding and considering giftedness matter for PDA kids?

One reason is that very spiky cognitive profiles can make it hard to identify the supports a child needs.

For example, a gifted dyslexic child might show classic challenges with phonemic awareness (the foundational skills for decoding words) and be a later reader—or they might not.

Many gifted dyslexic children are able to compensate for their dyslexia-related challenges, at least on the surface, by using their advanced problem solving skills. Thus, they may start reading before or at the same time as their same age peers. Knowing that a child is gifted can help recognize the complexity of their experiences and profile.

Thinking about giftedness also reminds us to offer a wider range of opportunities for exploration. If a PDA kid rarely picks up a book, considering giftedness might help a parent to source a much harder level book on a topic they are passionate about. The parent can strew the book, or offer to read it aloud.

They may find that what they were considering through the lens of “demand avoidance” - an unwillingness to hear books being read aloud - was in fact heavily influenced by boredom. Maybe that 8-year-old actually needed middle-school-level books with more complex plot lines and action to engage interest. It wasn’t about avoiding demands at all.

For PDA kids, who often have expressive language challenges combined with demand avoidance and intense monotropism (a deep focus on specific interests), these things can be very difficult to untangle. That’s why it’s helpful to use multiple lenses to understand their behaviors and experiences.

Giftedness does not look one particular way. Two kids can score almost identically on the WISC in terms of an overall IQ score, and have very different profiles, with one child seemingly obviously gifted based on external observations and another child’s giftedness being harder to spot.

But instead, let’s go back to that Columbus definition and think about the essential experience of giftedness as asynchronous development and advanced abilities that create a qualitatively different experience of the world. How can we think about that way of understanding giftedness and how it might be experienced by our kids?

Creativity, Control, and Connection

I know PDA kids who are incredible storytellers, and create elaborate and detailed fantasy worlds with LEGO or stuffed animals. Others are artists, always tinkering, experimenting, and coming up with elaborate concoctions and new creations.

Many young PDA kids are drawn to video games and virtual worlds. They live and breathe Minecraft like it’s their natural habitat.

This makes a lot of sense for a PDA brain: in these virtual worlds, kids are not only fully in control, they are able to access the next “just right” intellectual challenge at their own pace. It’s also a safe place socially and provides a way for them to share interests with other kids and adults.

It’s an irresistible combination of the competence-relatedness-autonomy trifecta, fulfilling each aspect of self-determination theory.

When we recognize how important the intellectual engagement piece is for many of our kids, their love for video games makes a lot more sense.

I don’t ascribe to the dopamine deficiency theory of video game addiction (see Jesse Meadow’s excellent substack, Sluggish, for more on this). Instead, I view gaming as an irresistible tool for some monotropic brains.

Anecdotally, a lot of these kids also have dyslexic MIND strengths: advanced visual-spatial thinking, pattern detection, narrative reasoning/storytelling, and dynamic problem-solving. Virtual worlds provide a rich opportunity to explore and develop these abilities.

Although I liked computers and video games as a child, books were my main companion, and the way that I filled my own hyper-intense need for constant stimulation.

When I realized that Minecraft was for two of my children what books had been for me, it forever changed my understanding of their experience in virtual worlds. I knew that I could not have thrived in relationship with someone who took away my books. And I resolved never to undermine or dismiss something they deeply loved, but instead to partner with them.

Kids do still need help navigating a world filled with digital tools, especially while also taking care of their “meat body” in the physical world, and even sometimes finding some balance and other things to explore.

Autistic Culture

Meat Body Maintenance (Episode 53)

Soaring Beyond Ableism: An Autistic Circus Performer's Journey of Self-Discovery…

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3 years ago · 5 likes · 8 comments · Dr. Angela Kingdon and Matt Lowry, LPP

What can we learn from cognitive testing and the gifted community?

It’s extremely easy to underscore on cognitive tests, especially if someone has multiple disabilities. IQ tests should never be used to limit someone’s access to learning, resources, or supports. Of course they are used this way all the time, and that’s a huge problem. For more on that, I recommend reading ’s recent post on “On how segregated education has always been used to decide who’s human.”

If a child scores poorly on cognitive testing, it should just be an invitation for more questions, and a strong awareness that that was one snapshot on one day. Unfortunately, IQ tests have such a strong cultural perception that “the number” is almost immediately etched into a parent’s mind and quickly takes on an outsized importance. And as Shubha shares, IQ testing has long been used for eugenicist and exclusionary purposes for children of color.

I’m troubled in thinking about the history of IQ testing and the whole concept of giftedness. And at the same time, I can say that I’ve found it useful in understanding how my kids’ brains work. If rather than looking at the averaged index numbers, one instead looks at the overall patterns and discrepancies, cognitive testing can become more useful. This is true even for kids scoring in the gifted range. The differences between subtest scores often reveal more about a child’s needs and challenges than the overall number.

For example, if there’s a two-standard-deviation gap between a child’s fluid reasoning and working memory aptitudes, that mismatch can create intense frustration in their day-to-day life. If a child is willing and able to participate in cognitive testing, working with an evaluator skilled at identifying and explaining these patterns can be helpful.

If you observe a spiky profile in your child and aren’t sure if they are gifted, you don’t need a formal assessment to explore these ideas and see what is helpful for your family. There are resources that have grown out of the gifted community that can be useful to explore. (There’s also a hell of a lot of ableism and misinformation about Autistic experience in particular, so tread carefully, and take care of yourself).

I really enjoy the book Mellow Out They Say, If Only I Could by Michael Piechowski and recommend it to parents. Exploring experiences of intensity through a non-pathologizing lens can be helpful, even life changing for some.

There is also a body of literature aimed at exploring complex brains. In her book, Upside-Down Brilliance: The Visual-Spatial Learner, Linda Silverman explores the experiences of people who think in pictures. Although this book is older and brain science no longer supports the “right brain vs. left brain” framework (Corballis, 2014), many interesting explorations of how different kinds of minds work have originated in the field of gifted psychology.

There are also therapists, like my friend Katy Higgins-Lee, who are doing great work exploring the psychological aspects of giftedness within our modern frameworks of neurodivergence:

Positive Disintegration

Celebrating Neurodiversity, Overexcitabilities, and Giftedness

In episode 30, Chris and Emma were joined by Katy Higgins Lee, MFT, a therapist and clinical supervisor in private practice in Santa Rosa, California. She works with neurodivergent adults with a focus on giftedness and twice-exceptionality. This episode is our contribution to…

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3 years ago · 11 likes · Chris Wells and Emma Nicholson

Sonny Jane Wise and Janae Elisabeth (TraumaGeek) talk about giftedness as a neurodivergent experience on their social media. They provide valuable insights into the intersections of neurodivergence, addressing not just giftedness but also a wide array of related experiences. I particularly appreciate learning from them about more stigmatized neurodivergent experiences such as altered states and plurality. Here is Sonny Jane’s recent work on The Neurodiversity Smorgasbord:

Defying Neuronormativity

The Neurodiversity Smorgasbord: An Alternative Framework for Understanding Differences Outside of Diagnostic Labels

Before I introduce The Neurodiversity Smorgasbord, I would like to acknowledge that this framework which I started to develop in 2022 has been inspired, shaped, influenced by movements that have come before as well as Mad, Disabled and Neurodivergent Indigenous and Black scholars, thinkers, writers, leaders and activists. Individuals who have been imagi…

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2 years ago · 6 likes · 1 comment · Sonny Jane Wise

Tying it All Together

Navigating the intersection of PDA and giftedness challenges us to rethink conventional ideas about ability, intelligence, and support. Which is a good thing! One of the gifts of parenting neurodivergent kids is the invitation (and often the necessity) to become changemakers, questioning everything we thought we knew about the world.

The labels—PDA, Autistic, ADHD, neurodivergent, gifted—can offer insights, but they’re only a starting point. What really matters is that we approach kids with curiosity, respect, and a willingness to adapt.

Sometimes exploring experience through a different lens helps to pique our curiosity and to reach new insights. This can be especially helpful for understanding kids with complex profiles.

It’s worth exploring a variety of information sources to deepen our understanding, even if some of those sources have troubled histories. There are people actively reinterpreting outdated frameworks (which, let’s face it, is every single dang thing in the DSM), and others creating new neurodivergent-led theories like monotropism.

And then there are the parents and kids navigating the messy, beautiful, and often overwhelming realities of neurodivergent experiences, just trying to piece together what it all means in their daily lives.

I do believe there’s value in exploring and understanding giftedness. But I see it as just one facet of neurodivergence—important in its own right, but only one part of the rich and complex story that makes up an individual’s unique experience.

Giftedness is also interesting because it’s a neurodivergent experience that we may eventually lose or no longer identify with, if we’re fortunate enough to grow into old age.

It reminds us that our psychological profiles are dynamic, shifting with time and context, and that who we are is shaped as much by our experiences and environment as by the abilities we’re born with.

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Now I have some questions for you!

• How has your understanding of giftedness evolved, and how do you see it fitting into the broader neurodivergent experience?

• How do you grapple with its troubling history?

• In what ways do you see the concept of giftedness being used to empower individuals or perpetuate harm?

• How can we do better at appreciating and celebrating the full range of human experiences?

I’d love to hear your insights, stories, or questions in the comments!

-Marni

References

Columbus Group. (1991, July). Unpublished transcript of the meeting of the Columbus Group. Columbus, OH.

Corballis, M. C. (2014). Left Brain, Right Brain: Facts and Fantasies. PLoS Biology, 12(1), e1001767. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pbio.1001767

Gardner, H. (Ed.). (2011). Frames of mind: The theory of multiple intelligences. Basic Books.

This isn’t the post I was expecting to write after NAGC. Honestly, I suspected I might just move on to a totally different topic and continue to distance myself from giftedness. Instead, I’ve been reminded that giftedness does in fact still matter to me. Here’s why.

The first reason is that, as has reminded me many times, this too is my lived experience. I grew up identifying as a gifted child and never had any reason to explore beyond being “just gifted.” (I mean, there were plenty of reasons, but this was the 90s so we all just kept on getting on…)

Being a gifted, academically-oriented kid in conventional schools without adequate advanced programming resulted in my primary school memories being a haze of boredom. I escaped into books whenever I could, losing myself in their pages like a lifeline. When books weren’t an option, I disappeared into daydreams—or sometimes, just plain sleep, especially in middle school.

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In high school I was finally able to attend a half-day specialized STEM program and found mentors in mathematics and robotics, who went out of their way to create advanced courses for me. They supported and encouraged me in many different ways, including applying for early college in my sophomore year. Not long after my 16th birthday, I left home to start a four-year college program several states away. It was a huge relief intellectually, but jumping into semi-independent living at that age came with its own set of challenges. Those teen transition years were beautiful in some ways and really hard in others.

Finally intellectually stimulated and taking 25 credits a semester (that’s 7 or 8 college classes—basically academic chaos), I fell in love with psychedelics. This tracks with my lifelong fascination with exploring the complexity of human experience, a curiosity that has always pushed me to seek out the edges of understanding and perception. While I haven’t touched any alternate-reality-inducing substances in years,1 I don’t regret those experiments. They have influenced my understanding of what it means to perceive, connect, and interpret the world in ways that challenge conventional boundaries of reality and self-awareness.

That said, I can’t help but wonder how things might have been different if I’d had even a small understanding of neurodivergence back then—something beyond the narrow narrative of giftedness as high achievement. If I’d known more about my own sensory needs, social differences, and monotropic focus, I think that information would have made a difference for me in other ways. I might have avoided the eating disorder I developed in my junior year of college, understood why some social interactions felt invigorating while others were exhausting, and gained a more compassionate and accurate understanding of myself.

Alas, the books and understanding I needed didn’t exist at that time, but they do today. And there are still so many young people who are only given the gifted lens to consider—whether out of ignorance or fear of stigma.

“Giftedness,” like "autism" and "ADHD," is a flawed social construct—human-created buckets designed to categorize people. These labels can box us in, limiting how we’re seen and understood. But they can also help us break free—by connecting us with our people, making sense of our stories, and forming deep, meaningful relationships rooted in shared lived experiences.

Looking back now, I realize how much my understanding of myself—and what multiply neurodivergent kids like me actually need—has changed. Although I demanded advanced academics, and that was a valid need (especially within the confines of a classroom), I had so many other needs and experiences that I had no language for.

Which brings me back to presenting at NAGC this year. I wasn’t sure how our 8 a.m. Saturday session would go. It was “parent day,” but they had their own starting session at the same time, so I figured the turnout might be sparse. Instead, our mid-sized room was packed with educators who showed up with curiosity and openness. They were eager to learn about neuro-affirming ways to support kids who don’t fit the neat, tidy narratives so often applied to giftedness. We spent half of the time on Q&A which is always my favorite park and I really enjoyed the interaction with the audience. Their questions and energy reminded me why I do this work.

It was exciting to see interest in neurodivergence more broadly at a gifted conference. Giftedness isn’t just about high achievement. It’s part of a much more complicated story about how we think, feel, and experience the world. But for a lot of kids (and even adults) giftedness as a construct gets tangled up with other neurodivergent traits and experiences that need to be understood, not ignored or dismissed.

So, my session went well. I loved visiting Seattle for the first time and exploring some of the nooks and crannies of the city. I got to spend time with friends and stay up late into the night having great conversations. I also caught a few really good sessions, including one on creative new uses of AI.

On top of that, I secured a chair for my dissertation committee who I am really excited to work with—a major win amidst the chaos of this year and my doctoral studies being sidelined. Speaking of chaos, the repair work on our home is officially underway, and we’re looking at a late February move-back date. Progress!

Here’s hoping for a smoother Spring ahead!

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Leave me a note if you are so inclined, I love to hear from you.

-Marni

This week, I am heading to the National Association for Gifted Children (NAGC) conference to present on Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA) and its intersection with giftedness.

I'm genuinely excited for several days away—to catch up with friends and to explore Seattle for the first time. At the same time, I am wondering how I will feel this year while attending a conference organized around the concept of giftedness.

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Many of the discussions in gifted education now fall flat for me. Take, for instance, the emphasis on accessing algebra in middle school. I understand that it can be a lifeline for gifted kids who feel bored, stifled, or even depressed by conventional education1. But in gifted ed, the conversation is rarely around how pursuing passions supports particular kids, but instead about how great it is that they’re so far ahead academically. It’s also not very meaningful to me at this point if a child is really good at algebra at a young age, versus them loving woodworking or Minecraft.

I was a child who excelled at advanced mathematics from an early age and took graduate-level courses in my early college days. Yet, beyond algebra, I never used those skills in my life or career. We’re putting way too much emphasis on academic skills as a marker of future ability to win at the game of capitalism (or even manage basic life skills!), when in fact, those are all very different things.

I want to talk about youth rights, supporting autonomy, and how the complexity of diverse human brains and nervous systems leads to a wide variety of experiences. These topics are largely missing from the field of gifted education, but if I can stomach it long enough, perhaps I will help to bring them in.

Three years into a doctoral program in twice-exceptionality, exploring both gifted and disabled experiences, I have many concerns about the broader field of gifted education. Despite the best efforts of a few, too often gifted ed is rooted in elitism and excitement for what children can do, rather than genuinely supporting them in exploring who they are.

I’ve also spent quite a bit of time reading about “former gifted child syndrome,” and yes, a lot of that content is relatable.

The field of gifted education has problems, no doubt about it. And yet, there are also the very real experiences of children who grow up understanding themselves through the gifted lens. It’s very often like a distorted fun house mirror view of their neurodivergence - highlighting certain aspects of these kids (ie. academic achievement) while ignoring so much else (sensory sensitivity, intense emotions, generally feeling out of synch).

So, I’m presenting at NAGC because gifted kids, parents and educators need to understand that 1) giftedness is a neurodivergence in itself and 2) giftedness is very frequently accompanied by other forms of neurodivergence. For more on this, you can watch my presentation from the Dabrowski Congress with my friend Katy Higgins Lee titled “Giftedness and Neurodivergence, Not Functioning Label.” (And please excuse our technical difficulties, our slides weren’t entirely cooperative)

This time, I’ll be presenting with another fabulous colleague and friend, Marna Wohlfeld, about Giftedness and PDA. We’ll be raising awareness of PDA among educators, counselors, and parents of gifted children. PDA kids are arguably among some of the most misunderstood, so I am grateful for this opportunity to help shed light on their experiences and advocate for the understanding and support they deserve.

Being an openly AuDHD (Autistic and ADHD) adult at NAGC is, in itself, a meaningful form of advocacy. It’s no surprise to me why many Autistic adults steer clear of gifted spaces. While there are a few notable ADHD advocates in this realm, like Emily Kircher-Morris, the representation of adult Autistic perspectives remains scarce.

I’m not sure if this is an experience I’ll keep revisiting, but for now, I’m ready to dive in and see what unfolds. And if you happen to be coming to NAGC next week, please drop me a message so I know to look for you!

-Marni

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P.S. It’s been awhile since I’ve managed to write here on Substack, as the grind of daily life continues to be relentless. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I’m hoping this marks a return to my writing here more often. Please do drop a note in the comments, I love to hear from you!

P.P.S. I’ve been reflecting on ’s response in the comments section, and also on the latest episode of the Divergent Conversations podcast, where Emily Kircher-Morris talks about moving beyond high IQ when thinking about giftedness. It’s a great listen, and I recommend it! Emily does call out ableism and manages to do it in a way that “calls in” rather than “calls out,” which is something I’m still working on.

does this also on the podcast and through their work with the Dabrowski Center. Chris wrote about their NAGC experience last year in this post, which also reminds me of the beautiful writings of Dr. Michael Piechowski and Kazimierz Dąbrowski as well. There are gems that we can find while exploring giftedness that do help us to think about whole person experiences.

There actually are many individuals working to promote strengths-based education for gifted and neurodivergent kids, especially within the subset of educators focusing on 2e.

There are also a bunch of people (outside of gifted ed) talking about giftedness in interesting ways. does in this post:

Therapeutic mindrambles

Neurocomplexity

So I just had a feedback session from a psychologist who did a neuropsychology assessment on me. This is probably the last assessment I'll have for my neurocomplexity. It all started back in 2020 when I decided to encounter a client who obviously had become more aware of the concept of neurodiversity and ADHD. I actually got asked point-blank, "Are you …

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2 years ago · 41 likes · 7 comments · Dr Joey

is also helping to push for change and the TILT Parenting podcast represents a living record of how conversations around neurodivergence have evolved.

I’m still hoping to see more openly Autistic, gifted educators though. Maybe I’ll form an Autistic coalition at NAGC, starting with Dr. and myself! Heading into this conference, I'm feeling more hopeful and energized. I’ll be on the lookout for those who are actively working to create a more neurodiversity-affirming experience for gifted children and pushing for meaningful change.

Clearly, that is not my experience. In times of stress I somehow seem to get the essentials done and then spend whatever bits of time are left escaping into books, taking naps, and getting out into nature.1

What qualifies as “essential,” and therefore gets done, varies. Some things inevitably fall through the cracks. It’s triage mode around here and while that has been true for a long time (hello, complex parenting) it feels even more so lately.

Parenting, staying in connection with my young people, and supporting them in their learning has remained a priority. This means things like writing here on Substack, paid work, and most everything else, move along more slowly. So it goes. With one child starting dual enrollment at the local community college this Fall, another needing a lot of activities and social engagement to be happy, and the third just needing a lot of connection, letting those things fall to the side wasn’t an option.

At the same time, there are many home ed related things that I had hoped to get to that I just can’t while also managing massive home repairs/renovation and All The Things. I miss creating the day-to-day magic of unschooling like scavenger hunts, field trips, and impromptu explorations.

Though I’m beginning to realize that I also just miss my kids being younger, when simple things like discovering a new playground sparked pure excitement.

Although it was challenging—and sometimes really hard—I navigated the dance of meeting all three of their needs at once via carefully thought out rhythms and activities, often in community with other homeschooling families.

That’s clearly not possible now, as they have widely varying interests and needs. It’s a constant balancing act.

Home Ed in the Teen Years

I remember being a parent of little ones, thinking that my partner and I would have more time together as they got older. But in these middling adolescent years, we often feel like ships passing in the night—juggling activities, helping our teen log student driving hours, and just generally making time to engage with our kids in the things they love.

I’m glad we created a solid foundation of connection, years ago, to get us through. It’s easier now to see how so many married couples drift apart. These years are hard in ways I couldn’t have imagined. It’s not the “I’ve had a small human attached to my body for days on end” physical exhaustion of the early years. Instead, it’s mentally draining to figure out how to meet everyone’s social and emotional needs, while also trying to share life lessons while they are still living at home.

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There’s been plenty written about homeschooling and unschooling younger kids, but far less about the teen years—and even less when it comes to home educating neurodivergent or disabled kids. I can recommend Sue Patterson’s book, Homeschooled Teens Book: 75 Young People Speak About Their Lives Without School, as a valuable resource. It is a bit of a different perspective because Sue interviewed the youth themselves, which I always appreciate!

This ties into my upcoming dissertation research on how self-directed teens transition into adult life. My preliminary interviews suggest that community college plays a significant role in helping unschooled youth find their way. So far, my teen’s experience with community college as his first ever classroom experience has been mostly very good, and smoother than I would have anticipated.

I'd love to see more of these stories being shared, yet I'm feeling more protective than ever about what I share online. My kids' stories belong to them, even though our lives are intertwined as they've always been.

Ten plus years into home educating, I only occasionally peruse homeschooling books, podcasts, and other materials. I didn’t need to research curriculum this Fall, and instead just reupped a few subscriptions like Beast Academy and Prodigy.

Of course, we're still homeschoolers, but the practice of life learning is so ingrained now that it just feels like how we live our lives.

I do get to spend time thinking and talking about home education with consulting clients, especially in the context of unschooling PDA kids, and thank goodness for that. It’s a joy to revisit the early years and help brainstorm ideas for those younger ages.

Because I’ve had to do far too much house cleaning and sorting due to the forced renovation happening at our house, I’m coming across a lot of treasures like this map I helped one of my kiddos with when we were reading the Wizard of Oz:

These discoveries fill me with nostalgia. One day, I’ll no doubt be missing these tumultuous teen and tween years too. So I’m trying to stay present and appreciate all of the ways my kids still surprise and delight me, in all their prickly glory.

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How about you? How do you balance the diverse needs and interests of your family members as everyone grows older and seeks different paths? Let me know in the comments, I’d love to hear from you!

- Marni

P.S. I'm slipping this post in just under the wire on the last day of September to meet my self-imposed goal of writing once a month. These days, that's about all I can manage, so it'll have to be enough. Thank you for sticking around through this tough season.