As a parent of a teen with ADHD, I’ve learned to just let the irony roll over me. It’s inevitable. You think you have something figured out about life and then your teenager presses the big, red ADHD button and flips your understanding of the world upside down.
It never made sense to me why my son had to study on the front porch with his loose papers flapping in the wind. Or why he could read his English homework better from upside-down on the couch. Or in what universe it made sense to blast his music while seemingly concentrating on Algebra.
How do I focus? Give me a nice quiet room with a tidy desk and a locked door. I have to eliminate all distractions to do my best work. But for ADHD: the distraction is the reward.