I was browsing Facebook recently, when a beautiful image caught my eye.

In one of the homeschooling groups I frequent, a young homeschooling mom had posted a beautiful schedule she intended to use when school begins in the fall.

The colors were aesthetic. The font was elegant, yet easily readable. And each homeschool day was meticulously scheduled down to the minute.

It was a work of art, created by ChatGPT.

To the mom’s credit, ChatGPT created exactly what she instructed it to, and the result was stunning, every organizer’s dream.

While I didn’t want to share that mom’s exact schedule, I created a similar schedule to show you what I mean.

I can plug all of my daughter’s assignments into AI and generate a perfect schedule. And AI does a wonderful job of organizing the information.

I have been that mom, creating the aesthetically perfect schedule. By nature, I am a planner. Every year, I make our homeschool plan.

And every year it fails.

By the second week of school.

The Problem With The Perfect Plan

Why does this happen year after year?

The answer is simple. Because I plan for my brain, not my daughter’s. And my daughter is not a planner.

I can plug all of my daughter’s assignments into AI and generate a perfect schedule. And AI does a wonderful job of organizing the information.

But AI is not human. It cannot account for low-energy days, schedules that change on short notice, or even illness.

When a perfect plan is made, and the unexpected happens, the perfect plan fails. Fixing it takes a lot of time and effort. Even more importantly, a neurodivergent teen can feel overwhelmed by that “I’m so far behind!” feeling.

Designing for the Learner’s Brain

It took me a while to come up with a system that worked for both my daughter and me.

Before I built the system, I listed my “requirements.”

For me:

• My involvement in the school day needed to be done by 3:00. My energy tanks in the late afternoon.

• As I work more hours as a substitute teacher, the plan needed to be open and go.

That’s about it for me. Since my daughter is now in high school, I’m trying to teach her to be more independent with her work.

My requirements for my daughter were a little more strict:

• It needed to provide independence.

• But it also needed to provide some structure.

• It had to take into account that she is easily distracted.

• And that her energy varies from day to day.

• And that she’s a teenager whose schedule changes frequently.

• It had to help her learn to manage bigger projects on her own.

• But it couldn’t leave all the bigger projects for her to figure out herself. That would be a disaster.

In a nutshell, it had to teach her the way to independence without dumping her in the sea without a lifeboat.

A schedule built entirely by the parent (or by an AI on behalf of the parent) is a tool for parent compliance. It says, “Do this at 9:00 AM because the paper says so.”

Real independence happens when we transition from a parent-managed calendar to a student-managed navigation system. We need to build a digital environment where the teen can see the destination but navigate the terrain themselves.

That shift, from compliance to navigation, is what you see in the opening photo. Grace is interacting with her customized dashboard. It’s calm, focused, and completely hers. Let’s look at how that architecture actually functions…

The Practical Peek: Our Notion System

In the past, we’ve used rigid schedules, like the one I found on Facebook. But a calendar that says “Writing: 10:00-11:00” is way too general to work for my organizationally-challenged daughter, who also happens to suffer from extreme time-blindness. She stares at the assignment and procrastinates because she doesn’t know where to start.

Instead of fighting against her natural challenges, we decided to work with them.

This year, we are making good use of the technology available to help her manage her own schedule and assist her in executive functioning. Notion and NotebookLM are cornerstones of our plan this year.

A database in Notion holds all of her assignments, showing her a week of assignments at a time, sorted into days. Each assignment has an estimated time attached to it to combat time-blindness and help her see time clearly (instead of stretching four hours of work into 12).

Each individual lesson page neatly lists materials, steps, a clear finishing point, and necessary links. Instead of just assigning a massive task like “Write the Body Paragraphs,” I built the AI prompt directly into the page layout.

When she has a writing assignment, instead of just staring at a blank cursor, she opens the page to find Card 13: The Paragraph Architect embedded directly into the layout.

She doesn’t need to ask for a template or remember how to structure a paragraph. The Architect is sitting right there. She copies the prompt, uses it to map out her sentence structure or logic flow, and then starts writing.

The architecture of the paragraph is built before the first sentence is written. The “scaffold” removes the paralyzing question of “how do I start?” and allows her to get right to the thinking.

Finally, instead of a rigid time schedule, each card is tagged “not started,” “in progress,” or “done.” She controls the “when” of her day, and the visual tags give her immediate feedback on her progress.

Why Go Through All the Trouble?

I’m not going to lie. It takes a while to set up a system like this. Is it worth it?

Absolutely yes.

When your child has a severe case of ADHD, she doesn’t just need to learn to read, write, and do arithmetic.

She needs to learn how to work around her executive dysfunction. By creating a system that she can manage herself, I have given her the tools she needs to:

• See time more clearly (the time estimates)

• Break down projects (the AI prompts)

• Organize her day herself (the assignment statuses)

• Make sure she is prepared for the assignment (the supply list)

Furthermore, she is learning to use tools that may very well help her for the rest of her life.

Scaffold, Not Shortcut

We cannot automate our kids into independence. ChatGPT can make a schedule, but it cannot teach a teen how to navigate a hard assignment when they are tired or distracted.

True educational strategy isn’t about finding the perfect automated planner; it’s about giving our kids operational tools that reduce friction and respect their natural pace.

The beauty of a system like the one I’m using with Notion and NotebookLM is that when my daughter graduates and goes off into the real world, these same two tools can help her manage her work, her house, and anything else she needs to manage.

For a person who admits her brain has a difficult time holding information, a system like this is life-changing.

When we build environments that support their executive functioning instead of demanding rigid compliance, we give them room to actually think. And that’s where real learning begins.

“Have you started your paper yet?”

“No, mom. I will.”

Two days later.

“You really need to start your paper.”

“I know, I know. I’ll do it soon.”

A day later.

“Why haven’t you started your paper yet?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so hard.”

“Just write SOMETHING.”

Easier said than done when you have ADHD.

Can you relate? Unfortunately, as a homeschooling mom and writing instructor, I’ve had the conversation with my own daughter more times than I can count. And even more unfortunately, I haven’t always been as understanding as I should be when it comes to her ADHD.

But here’s what I’ve learned over the years when it comes to teaching my daughter. The inability to get started on a writing assignment is not defiance. It’s blank page paralysis.

When my daughter, who lacks executive functioning skills, is given an assignment, she doesn’t break it down step by step. Even the step-by-step instructions in her writing curriculum aren’t small enough steps for her.

Instead, her brain starts reciting questions like, “What will I write about?” “Where do I find the information?” “How much do I need to write today?” “Did I spell that correctly?” “Does this information fit my assignment?” “Wait, I think I did something wrong on my math assignment. I’d better check.” “Where was I?”

It’s overwhelming. Yet, she needs to learn to write.

The Tyranny of “Just Start Writing”

“Just start writing” sounds so simple. And for many people, it is simple. But for the ADHD brain, it’s anything but simple.

Think about all the executive functioning skills that go into writing an essay.

• Task Initiation (Breaking Inertia): The cognitive energy required to independently generate a physical first step, open the blank document, and write the very first sentence without getting stuck in mental paralysis.

• Working Memory (The Mental Juggling Act): The capacity to hold multiple competing pieces of information in mind simultaneously—like keeping the overarching thesis statement in view while trying to recall specific evidence and apply grammar rules all at the exact same time.

• Planning and Prioritizing (The Architectural Blueprint): The ability to look at an ocean of scattered ideas, map out a logical sequence, and decide which arguments are strong enough to keep and which ones must be discarded.

• Organization (The Sorting System): The continuous mental sorting required to keep track of research notes, external quotes, and internal structural formatting so that thoughts don’t wander off into irrelevant tangents.

• Cognitive Flexibility (Mental Pivoting): The capacity to switch gears midway through a draft—such as recognizing when a chosen paragraph isn’t working and being willing to abandon it, or shifting from the creative flow of writing to the critical eye needed for editing.

• Sustained Attention & Response Inhibition (The Cognitive Filter): The intense focus required to filter out background distractions, resist the urge to open a new browser tab, and maintain stamina over several paragraphs.

• Metacognition & Self-Monitoring (The Internal Quality Audit): The ability to step outside of the writing process to objectively critique your own work, asking yourself: “Does this sentence make sense? Did I actually answer the essay prompt?”

If a student struggles in all of these areas, no wonder writing an essay seems insurmountable!

The Problem with Most Writing Instruction

So what is the secret to teaching a child with ADHD to write?

The answer is: break down the assignment. Then break it down some more.

When the ADHD brain gets overwhelmed, it just stops. It cannot function. So we need to take away the overwhelm. Sometimes that starts with, “Open a blank page.” Then, “Write your name.”

But then what?

In my daughter’s writing curriculum, the first instructions usually look like this:

1. On a sheet of paper, organize the opening paragraph of the essay.

2. On a sheet of paper, organize the body paragraphs of the essay.

3. On a sheet of paper, organize the closing paragraph of the essay

Sure, graphic organizers are included in the workbook to help, but it’s not enough.

Starting with outlining the paper assumes that my student has an idea of what to write about. It assumes she knows how to organize her thoughts. For someone with a self-described spaghetti brain, that’s a big ask.

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The Solution: The “1-Task Rule”

When I got frustrated with my daughter’s disaster of a research paper and started playing with AI to scaffold her writing assignments, I broke down writing projects into 20 steps.

Do you know what step the outline is?

Step 10. Yes, halfway through the process, we make an outline. If you’re a natural writer, you might be asking, “What on earth comes before the outline?”

I know, because I’m a natural writer, and I needed AI to help me figure it out. This is what we do before the outline:

1. Lock in the rule that the AI is a tutor and can only give one small step or task at a time.

2. Upload the assignment rubric so my daughter can keep her eye on the goal.

3. Review what to do if the AI starts disobeying rule number 1.

4. Have the AI interview my daughter about the assignment to get her initial thoughts on the assigned topic.

5. Do a brain dump and sort the ideas into logical “baskets.”

6. Break down any concepts from the assignment or the research that are unclear.

7. Check the quality of sources.

8. Find micro-relationships between ideas.

9. Find macro-relationships between big thoughts.

10. Generate the outline and thesis statement.

By doing all of that prep work before writing the outline, the essay is a lot more manageable for the student to write. In addition, it’s great practice for working systematically through a complex project!

The key to our system is in the very first prompt. We prompt the AI to never write for the student. We also prompt the AI to write in bullet points, so my daughter doesn’t get overwhelmed by a big “wall of text.” The AI’s only job is to ask my daughter questions and help her organize her own thoughts.

This process frees up my daughter’s working memory. She is free to express her thoughts without having to remember and organize them simultaneously. She expresses her thoughts. The AI helps her organize her messy list of thoughts, asks questions to help her make connections, and then generates an outline from her thoughts.

The Transformation & The Invitation

When we tried all of these pre-outline steps, my daughter didn’t balk (too much) at doing her writing assignment. She still doesn’t like writing very much, but the blank page no longer makes her freeze.

Honestly, AI is like having a tutor (one that isn’t emotionally involved) guiding her through the essay writing process.

I know what you’re thinking. “My kid will just take the path of least resistance and have AI write the whole paper.” That’s sometimes what frustrated kids with ADHD do, isn’t it? The executive functioning skills are not there to write the paper, so they get it done any way they can.

Their brains are in survival mode. I can’t say I blame them. But that doesn’t make it right.

As a substitute teacher, I see kids brag about how they used AI to complete assignments all the time. It’s a valid concern. For a long time, I (sometimes correctly) blamed the use of AI for academic dishonesty, shortcuts, and brain rot.

However, if you give AI strict “contracts,” like the ones I use, AI is incapable of writing the paper for the child. It’s not luck. It’s good prompting.

As an extra measure of security, I always ask to see my daughter’s chat log, too. The chat log makes it obvious whether she or AI wrote the paper.

The Grace Note

It can be hard to parent and educate a neurodivergent child. Sometimes their brains go places no other brain has gone before…and that’s a good thing.

But sometimes their brains get overwhelmed and shut off. Remember, learning is not a race. It’s OK to go at your child’s pace and try new ways of doing things. In a moment of frustration, you, like me, might find something that transforms your homeschool.

And if you found that thing, please tell me about it! I’m always learning too!

If you’d like to join us on our Grace-Paced Homeschool adventures, I invite you to subscribe. On Thursday, I’ll be sharing a short note on how we reprimand AI when it starts ignoring our instructions.

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Until next time, give yourself some grace.

A Little Background

I have been homeschooling my 15-year-old daughter, who struggles massively with anything related to executive function, for four years now.

Four years of me nagging her.

Four years of her digging in her heels and refusing to write.

Four years of arguments about schoolwork.

Four years of tears, wondering how my brilliant, creative daughter was ever going to survive in life without being able to express a coherent argument.

I no longer nag. She is confident that she can succeed. The transformation in our homeschool has been nothing short of amazing. We are at peace, and she is independent.

How did we get here? It all started after that disaster of a research paper.

The Kitchen-Table Revelation: Does AI Slow You Down or Speed You Up?

The answer is both. Grace, my fifteen-year-old daughter, and I recently discussed how she used AI to help her write a speech and prepare for a debate.

“I’m finished!” Grace declared proudly as she strolled into the room.

“Really?” I asked, knowing that probably meant her work was half-done. “Show me.”

She handed me the best paper she had written all year. I knew AI could help her. I just didn’t realize how much.

I asked her if the AI slowed her down or helped her finish more quickly.

“It definitely helped me speed up!” Grace declared adamantly.

As her mom, I had a different perspective. From my point of view, the AI slowed Grace down enough that she completed every step of the assignments, and completed them well.

Can both be true at once?

The answer is a resounding yes!

Grace finished her assignments in less time because she didn’t spend time procrastinating. Her writing process slowed down because she was systematically completing the assignments instead of rushing through them.

The AI took the friction out of the initiation phase, so her energy went into the actual work.

Overall, she got the assignment done in the same amount of time that it used to take her without AI. However, she used to procrastinate until the day before the assignment, and then rush through it, skipping steps, just to get it completed on time.

After we started using AI, she got started on her assignments right away, worked on them incrementally throughout the week, and completed the assignments as directed. She learned much more by slowing down.

Speeding Up the Starting Line

The above is a conversation Grace had with NotebookLM when she was preparing for a debate on whether the government is doing enough to prevent pollution. I created a prompt instructing the AI on how I wanted it to act, uploaded the assignment requirements and the research Grace was using, and let Grace go to work.

What you see is the output. Instead of hours wondering what angle she should take for her debate, AI helped her pick one quickly.

From there, the AI walked her through the process of selecting good research and using debate techniques to flesh out a good argument.

Before we turned to AI, it was difficult for Grace, who can be very rigid in her thinking, to come up with a coherent argument about pollution.

I asked her, “What is your position on the debate?”

She replied, “I don’t like the trash on the side of the road. The government should pick it up.”

I tried to help her by asking, “Why is it the government’s responsibility to pick it up?”

To which I would get radio silence. She knew the outcome she wanted, but she couldn’t connect the dots to get there.

NotebookLM helped her with that. By using the sources she uploaded, the AI asked her questions to clarify her position, pointed out when her research materials didn’t support her position, and pushed back with counterarguments.

That is the beginning of critical thinking for someone who has trouble with logic.

So many times, neurodivergent students get overwhelmed with a project because there is too much information available. Kids with executive functioning problems have trouble organizing, analyzing, and prioritizing which information to use. They also have trouble sorting out which information is irrelevant.

By prompting AI to act as a Socratic tutor and giving it specific parameters, the AI was able to help Grace micro-focus on litter for her debate, massively cutting down the amount of information she needed to look at for evidence.

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Enforcing the Elaboration Floor

I love the above screenshot. This was the moment that transformed my thinking about AI. At first, I thought AI might be useful. After reading this, I know AI was exactly the tool my daughter needed.

Remember the disaster of a research paper? Grace’s last assignment of the school year was to write a speech on the same topic.

As with the debate, I gave the AI some instructions, uploaded the rubric, and let Grace go to work.

One of the requirements of the speech was that each point had two examples.

Grace, who abhors writing and tries to rush the process, tried her usual methods of cutting corners. At first, she ignored the question and said, “I’m ready to move on.”

AI held its ground and said, “I need your examples.” It wouldn’t let her move on.

She tried to give AI one example. AI said, “I need more.”

She tried to tell AI that her examples were already in a Google Doc. AI said, “I need to see them.”

This continued. The screenshot above is the fifth time AI told my daughter she couldn’t move on until she gave another example.

I know you are super eager to get to Tuesday, but I have to hold my ground and enforce THE ELABORATION FLOOR!” — The Socratic AI Tutor

As you can see, Grace finally did the work, and the AI allowed her to move on.

She completed the assignment, dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s. She even proofread her speech and fixed her errors. In the end, her speech was an enormous improvement over her research paper.

And she was proud of her work.

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The Middle Path (Scaffold, Not Shortcut)

AI is not evil. Nor is AI the best thing next to grandma’s apple pie. AI is just a tool, and like any tool, it can be used wisely or foolishly.

When I’m substitute teaching, especially in middle and high school, I often overhear kids talking about how they completed assignments by “plugging them into ChatGPT.” That’s an obviously foolish use of AI. I think all educators can agree with that. We want kids to do their own work because that’s how kids learn.

But the answer is not to ban AI. AI is here to stay, and it can be used wisely.

There is a Middle Path.

For neurodivergent brains, AI can be an amazing scaffold.

When prompted correctly, an AI scaffold can:

• Overcome task-initiation paralysis by breaking massive assignments into minuscule, dopamine-rewarding steps.

• Organize the hundreds of random thoughts flowing through neurodivergent spaghetti brains (my daughter’s term, referencing her own brain).

• Enforce strict assignment directions neutrally, taking the emotion, arguments, and parental nagging out of the homework equation.

Does every student need that kind of support? Of course not. But for students with weak executive functioning skills, it helps them see and experience the process the correct way. And it helps them do it neutrally. Mom or a teacher isn’t nagging them to do it correctly. It takes the emotion out of the homework.

Want to Try This in Your Homeschool?

Now you know why I am so passionate about using AI to scaffold assignments for neurodivergent students. AI can help students get started on an assignment, help kids get organized, and force them to think through every step. This very process has added peace to our family and has improved my daughter’s work process immensely.

The more I learn about the things AI can do, the more I use it for our homeschool. In fact, I’ve created a whole 20-prompt series just for writing essays. I’m dotting my own i’s and crossing my own t’s so I can share it with you this July. If you want a small taste of our system, subscribe below and check your inbox for the exact prompt we use to get started on an essay.

Ready to take the Middle Path in your homeschool? Enter your email below to join Grace Paced Life. You’ll instantly receive the exact Idea Igniter Prompt Card we use to smash blank-page paralysis, plus early-bird access to our complete 20-card essay toolkit when it drops this July.

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But as a homeschooling mom to Grace, a neurodivergent high schooler, I know the deafening, anxiety-filled silence of “Blank Page Paralysis.” My entire philosophy—and my fear of AI—was completely challenged last semester as I tried to teach her how to write a research paper. She’s smart. I’m a writing teacher. No problem, right?

Wrong.

Watching her brilliant mind get completely derailed by task initiation made me realize we didn’t need a wall; we needed a bridge. It hit me that just like a nearsighted person needs glasses to see correctly, students with executive function struggles might need AI as an accessibility tool. That was the moment I stopped fighting AI and started looking for the Middle Path: a way to use it as a scaffold, not a shortcut.

Here is what happened during that research paper disaster, and how we solved the problem…

The Struggle

She picked a topic she was interested in. We chose some sources together. She wrote her research on cards. Other than procrastinating a bit, the research paper was off to a good start!

But then it came time to outline and start writing.

First, as much as Grace tried, she couldn’t organize her thoughts in a way that made sense. She had many thoughts, but they were all over the place.

Then the notecards got lost. Six weeks later, they still hadn’t reappeared. So she had to start her research over. For a student who hates writing, this was a devastating development.

Finally, she began to write. But the blank page…She didn’t know where to start. So she started where her mind went - somewhere in the middle of her third argument. And she forgot the thesis, so she added it in the last paragraph.

When she handed in her paper, my heart sank. It was a short paper that combined an academic voice, a YouTube script, and a rant. No research was referenced, and my linear brain couldn’t make sense of it. How could I, a writing teacher, fail my daughter like this?

We have been working on writing for years. We have tried different curricula: Institute for Excellence in Writing, Excellence in Writing, and a middle school writing course from Teachers Pay Teachers. No matter how much the curricula broke down the steps, something wasn’t sticking.

Watching her stare blankly at a pile of index cards and struggle to organize it all, I realized the block wasn’t a lack of information. It was a task initiation problem. Her brain couldn’t build the sequence on its own.

The Turning Point

In a fit of desperation, I uploaded her essay to ChatGPT and asked the AI to turn it into a 10th-grade-level research paper. The difference was stark. I had Grace read the two papers to see the difference. We were both depressed.

On a whim, I asked ChatGPT if there was a way to scaffold writing using AI that would help overcome my daughter’s executive functioning struggles without doing the work for her.

She obviously needed help. But I didn’t want to circumvent the development of her critical thinking skills. And I didn’t want her to learn that plagiarizing ChatGPT was somehow acceptable.

What I learned blew me away and changed the way we approach writing. That’s when I stopped treating AI like an essay-writer and started using it as a dialogue partner. Open a clean chat window, type out an intentional coaching prompt, and watch her verbalize her way into clarity.

That prompt became the basis for the Idea Igniter card… It’s the first step in moving from “I can’t” to “I’ve started.”

The Middle Path Philosophy

It turns out AI can be very helpful for neurodivergent brains (and honestly, any brain)! Using AI doesn’t necessarily mean cheating!

The key is to use AI as a Socratic tutor to help clear executive functioning bottlenecks - a learning partner to focus thinking, rather than an assistant that thinks for the student.

The Scaffold: How We Broke the Blank Page Paralysis

Instead of a blank document, I opened up an AI chat and set firm boundaries so it would act as a Socratic Tutor instead of an author. We call this our “Idea Igniter” strategy.

By treating the AI as an interviewer rather than a writer, we completely changed the dynamic. Here are the exact steps and the prompt we used:

• Step 1: The Voice-to-Text Hack. If typing feels like an unmovable block for your teen, have them click the microphone icon in the AI chat box and just talk their thoughts out loud.

• Step 2: The “Journalist” Prompt. We pasted this exact set of rules into the chat to lock the AI into “Coach Mode”:

Act as a patient Socratic Tutor and journalist. I am a high school student preparing to write a speech about [how technology use has affected Gen Alpha]. Strict rules for you: Do NOT write any part of this essay, outline, or thesis statement for me. Do NOT give me a list of options or a wall of text. Your ONLY job right now is to interview me to extract my own ideas. To start, ask me only ONE specific, open-ended question about my opinion or thoughts on [how technology has affected Gen Alpha] so I can “talk” my way into a focus. Wait for my answer before asking your next question. Ask a total of 3 questions, one at a time.

• Step 3: The One-Question Rule. We forced the AI to only ask one question at a time to prevent the cognitive overwhelm of a massive wall of text.

In just a few minutes, Grace wasn’t staring at a blank screen anymore. She was having a conversation about the deterioration of education in America, and her ideas were finally flowing.

Want to try this at your own kitchen table? I’ve turned this exact strategy into a printable, fold-up reference card for your student.

👉 Get Your Free Idea Igniter Card by Subscribing Below!

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Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing the exact framework that helped my daughter get from the blank page to a finished, 10th-grade level paper. And AI didn’t do the writing!

Now that we are using AI to scaffold her writing, she is almost completely independent in doing her assignments. I can make sure she is not cheating by checking her AI chat history and seeing how she has worked through each step of the writing process.

Her confidence has gone up because she is now able to complete what was once a task that seemed impossible to her. It’s still not easy because the AI forces her to think. But she gets the assignment done correctly and works through every step in order. The AI is teaching her how to organize her “spaghetti brain” (her term) thoughts into linear arguments.

The Grace Note

Teaching a neurodivergent thinker is always going to look a little different than teaching a neurotypical student, and that’s OK. We are not using AI to “keep up with other students.”

Using AI as a tool to support weakness rather than as a tool for thinking is a smart move. We use glasses to support weak eyesight, and we don’t consider it ‘cheating’ the learning process. In the same way, using AI as an executive functioning scaffold simply clears the path so the student can do the real work of critical thinking.

AI is a tool. Whether it’s helpful or harmful depends entirely on how we wield it. We are choosing to wield it in a way that supports thinking rather than destroys it.

I’m going to be sharing the rest of our AI prompt framework over the next few weeks. Hit the subscribe button below to follow along and grab your free Idea Igniter printable card to try this out at your own kitchen table tonight!”

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The pastor stepped up to the podium to begin preaching. I pulled out my bible and looked nervously to my left. My daughter, my very ADHD daughter, who was around eleven years old at the time, sat on the end chair, right next to the aisle.

I had strategically placed her there because the prior week, she decided to stretch out over four chairs to take a nap during the sermon. Maybe if I limited her to a single seat, she would stay relatively still.

It was not to be. Partway through the sermon, she became bored, despite the fidgets I provided her. She dropped her markers on the floor. One rolled under her chair into the row behind us. She dropped to her knees and squirmed under the chair like a snake.

I was mortified. My cheeks flamed red as I felt all eyes in the congregation on me. I felt the judgmental comments. “What kind of mom lets her kid dive under the chairs in the middle of the sermon?” “ A little discipline would do that girl some good.” “She’s old enough to sit still during church. Why doesn’t her mom do something about her?”

Just another week in church with a neurodivergent child.

The Ghost in the Next Pew

Those comments? Nobody in my church ever spoke them. They were all coming from inside my head - my own expectations, my past experiences, my perfectionism - all of these wrapped into one ghost in the next pew, judging me relentlessly.

We moms with neurodivergent kids have a tough job. Parenting doesn’t look the way we expected it to. The parenting books? They don’t work. Typical advice? It backfires. Yes, parenting a neurodivergent child is a lot of trial and error…a lot of error…and many humbling moments.

In the church service, I could have offered up a consequence, but experience told me that consequences did not teach my child anything. I could have bribed my daughter before church, but I’d unwisely gone down that road before, which had resulted in endless demands for treats with no change in behavior. I could have pulled her out of the service, but I’d tried that before, too. That was an ugly show for the entire congregation - a mom hauling a rather large child out of church, kicking and screaming.

With a sigh, I accepted that the under-chair-diving was probably the least disruptive option in the moment. Certainly, my daughter and I would talk (again) about appropriate behavior when the service ended. But in that moment, I suffered under the weight of my own judgment.

Where Did the Ghost Come From?

We all have our inner ghosts. Mine was born in the rigid, polished pews of my childhood. I remember the silent requirement to look a certain way—stiff “Sunday dresses” and “church shoes” that pinched.

The Ghost’s first lesson was simple: Performance is safety.

During the service, my brothers and I were statues. My mom passed out candy periodically like a countdown clock to keep us quiet. I still remember the day my three-year-old brother choked. His gasping for air was so loud and uncomfortable that my mom had to carry him out in a frantic, blurred rush, all eyes tracking her like a spotlight. The shame of that “interruption” stayed with me longer than the relief that he was okay.

As my own friend group began having children, the Ghost grew in power. It whispered comparisons into my ear every Sunday. I watched other children sitting like little monks, while mine were loud and squirmy. I told myself it was just a “phase”—a temporary storm I just had to weather. My two oldest children eventually settled into the expected rhythm.

But my youngest? She was a different story entirely.

The Ghost turned from a whisper to a scream as the gap between my life and my friends’ lives widened. Their kids were memorizing verses and following the pastor’s three-point outline. My kid was lucky if she could find her Bible inside a bag packed with every earthly belonging she owned—a “survival kit” she hauled everywhere just to feel safe in a world that felt too loud.

I looked at the “perfectly” behaved kids in the row in front of me, then back at my daughter’s bag of chaos, and asked the question that keeps every neurodivergent parent awake at night:

“What am I doing wrong?”

I felt like a failure as a mother. I’m sure my husband felt the same about being a father. It seemed we were working ten times harder than everyone else just to achieve a “C-minus” in church etiquette.

Goodbye to the Ghost; Hello to Grace

The answer to the question, “What am I doing wrong?” is “Nothing.”

That’s right. Nothing.

I’m not a perfect parent, but I’m doing the best I can with the knowledge I have and the grace God has given me.

My daughter is neurodivergent. Through a combination of infant trauma (before we adopted her) and a plethora of diagnoses, she is doing the best that she can with the resources she has and the grace God has given her.

The beauty is that God knows my daughter inside and out. He knows the struggles she faces every day. He gives her plenty of grace for growing at her own pace.

And He gives that same grace to me.

I need to give that grace to myself, too.

We’re four years beyond the under-chair-diving incident, and my daughter has grown a lot. Fortunately, she doesn’t dive under chairs anymore. But we still have conversations about cellphone use in church. We talk about how it’s OK to use one pen to draw during the sermon, but it’s not really appropriate to use twenty-five pens because it distracts others.

Sometimes it goes well. Sometimes it doesn’t. But I’ve said goodbye to the critical ghost. We’re all on our own journey, hopefully growing more Christlike every day. Instead of comparing myself and my daughters to others, I’ve learned to celebrate the small steps of progress we’ve both made over the last few years. And there has been progress!

A Word About Judgment

I am very fortunate to be a part of a very supportive church. All of the judgment I’ve experienced has been self-induced. I realize that is not everyone’s experience, though.

When I look back at the church I grew up in, I’m not sure I would have been as supported as I am currently. I’m not sure my daughter would have been supported there either. And she’s very much supported at our current church.

The truth is, all along, my church family was loving my family…neurodivergence and all. It was just hard for me to accept that love and grace. I had painted in my mind a picture of what a “good Christian family” should look like, and ours wasn’t it.

But by God’s grace, my family is the family He gave me, and I’ve learned to relax. I’ve learned that His grace is better than my flawed standards. And he loves my pew-diving daughter without condemnation.

I’ve learned more about the grace of God by parenting a neurodivergent child than I possibly could have any other way. And for that I am grateful.

Passing on the Gift of Grace

If you have a neurodivergent child, you know that grace is one of the most important things you can give them. William Dodson, M.D., estimates that children with ADHD receive 20,000 more negative comments by age 10 than neurotypical children. They receive a lot of judgment from the world. We need to be a safe spot, not the source of more negativity.

But how can you pass the gift of grace to your child if you aren’t giving yourself grace?

When I didn’t give myself grace as a mother, I found myself slipping into fear-based parenting. And fear-based parenting led to a vicious cycle of trying new methods, listening to new advice, and spending hours on the internet trying to figure out how to make things better.

All I really needed to do was slow down. Take the pressure off. Enjoy my relationship with my daughter. And accept the fact that some people may judge our family when we look a little unconventional. And that’s OK. Those people are dealing with their own issues. And I’m not going to worry about that. I’ll give them a little grace, too.

You can’t lead a child to a grace-paced life if you are still living in a performance-based one.

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Where is Your Ghost Coming From?

Do you hear that critical voice inside your head? Maybe it’s a grandmother, a fellow church member, a teacher, or a former pastor. Tell that ghost to be quiet and get out of your head!

Do you have unrealistic expectations for your child based on your history? Take a deep breath and embrace the grace God gives you to learn and grow at your own pace.

Moving toward a Grace-Paced Life doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a slow unlearning of every ‘should’ and ‘ought’ we’ve ever been told. It starts with a simple, radical choice: to look at the child under the chair (or the child holding the twenty-five pens) and see a soul God is already delighted by.

Today, I invite you to fire the Ghost. Take the seat in the pew that works for your family, bring the single pencil, and breathe. You aren’t failing a test; you’re stewarding a miracle that just happens to be a bit noisier than the others.

We are growing. We are learning. And thank God, we are doing it at the speed of grace.

I’d love to hear from you: Who is the ‘Ghost’ in your next pew? What is one ‘Sunday Standard’ you are ready to let go of this week?

Two years ago, I dreaded Mondays.

I would try hard to make Monday mornings pleasant. I had visions of waking up my teen daughter for a lovely day of homeschooling, discussion, and bonding as mother and daughter.

The problem? My daughter’s ADHD brain wasn’t having it.

I’d urge her to wake up.

From under the blankets, I’d hear her grunt, “Urgggh.”

Ten minutes later, we’d repeat the cycle.

An hour later, I’d be irritated. I’d “encourage” her (not so nicely) to get up, or I’d take her phone away.

She’d yell back at me. And refuse to get up.

I’d cry. Where did we go wrong?

Accepting the “What Is”

What went wrong is that I was trying to mold my week into “the way it should be.” And while that might work for many families, it didn’t work for my neurodivergent daughter. For her, Mondays marked the beginning of a week that would likely end in not measuring up, demands she couldn’t meet, and behavior expectations that she couldn’t fulfill.

She was paralyzed with fear and couldn’t bring herself to face the day.

And all my encouragement and cheerleading didn’t work. The truth is, I didn’t understand her brain. In many ways, I still don’t.

But in my circle of friends, I felt alone. Nobody understood our struggle. Other kids were motivated by good grades, goals, and aspirations. My daughter ran and hid from the world.

It wasn’t until we went to therapy that I found out many neurodivergent kids struggle with Monday mornings…and getting up for school in general. Chronic absenteeism from school isn’t all that unusual.

We were fortunate to homeschool. Even though our mornings were tough, my daughter was getting some schoolwork done each week.

The Grace-Paced Reframe

I began to think about what we could do to make Monday mornings easier. More accurately, I began to change my thinking about Monday mornings.

Even though I’m generally a type-A-get-things-done kind of person, my daughter is most definitely not. She wanders through life, smelling the roses. She goes on side-quests that distract her from school, but also enhance her life.

How could I help her accomplish what she needed to do in school, while respecting her fear of failure and her need to move slowly through life?

I changed up the morning routine. Now it looks something like this:

7:00 am - My husband gives her “the gift of cat.” In other words, he deposits her cat into bed with her. Petting her cat helps regulate her nervous system.

7:30 am - Her alarm goes off. I call out a gentle “Good Morning!”

7:35 am - I call her on her cell phone. She has a cute way of answering, “Yes, mother?” that cracks me up. I laugh. She laughs. We’re off to a good start. I promise to make her pancakes while she gets ready.

7:40 am - I make pancakes while she gets up. Around 8:00, she comes downstairs to eat breakfast. While she eats, we usually read a devotional book together and start our day with Jesus. We pray together. Then she heads upstairs to do her schoolwork, while I do chores around the house.

Does she still complain about getting up? I’d be lying if I said no. But there is no more fighting.

Why the Gentle Wake-Up Works for Her

My daughter, like most teens with ADHD, has an overactive nervous system. She doesn’t mean to be defiant. Her nervous system just goes into fight or flight easily, and a harsh, quick wake-up sends her into fight mode within seconds.

By using sensory tools (the cat), humor (the phone call), and a small reward (a breakfast she likes), her nervous system isn’t as activated, and she is better able to function.

Spending time reflecting on Jesus helps us both start our day in the right frame of mind to handle challenges that come up throughout the day.

Most days don’t run perfectly, but by starting the day with Jesus, we’re reminded of the grace He gave us…and it reminds us to afford each other the same grace.

How the Gentle Wake-Up Works for Me

I was pleased to find that the gentle wake-up helps my daughter start her week well. What I was not expecting was how much this grace-paced wake-up would help me.

I’m a morning person. I hit the ground running. By mid-morning, I usually have all of my chores done for the day. And I’ve been that way since I can remember.

Slowing down in the morning has opened my eyes to everything I was missing.

While making pancakes in my kitchen, I’ve seen beautiful sunrises.

Instead of fighting with my daughter about getting out of bed, I’ve had time to do my own Bible reading and pray.

Our quiet talks on the sofa while reading devotional books and praying together have created a much stronger mother-daughter bond.

Even though I’m very task-oriented, I’ve found this slower start to the week a refreshing change.

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Small Shifts For Your Own Monday

Are you stressed this morning? Do Monday mornings hit you like a ton of bricks instead of welcoming you into the week gently?

Maybe a mindset shift is in order.

What can you do to be kind to your nervous system? I don’t want to add to your to-do list…that’s just stressful. But maybe making a subtle shift is all you need.

• Stretching before getting out of bed.

• Listening to the Bible or worship music while getting dressed.

• Burning a calming candle while putting on your makeup.

• Praying during your morning commute.

None of these things adds time to your morning routine, but they serve to settle your nervous system before it has a chance to get overwhelmed for the day.

Sometimes we can’t change what the day holds for us. But we can shift our mindset before we reach the harsh reality of the day…and that softens the blow and sometimes even changes the trajectory of the whole day.

Today, remember, enough is a myth, unless it’s preceded by the word “good.” A “good enough” Monday is a beautiful thing.

What is one tiny shift you could make for a gentler Monday morning? I’d love to hear your ideas in the comments.