Before I dive into the question of “describe something you learned in high school,” I need to share some of my personal background. My experiences are central to understanding how my journey unfolded—how challenges shaped me and how science became a guiding light in my life.
High school wasn’t just about academics for me—it was a lifeline. Despite being bullied, school became an escape from what I was facing at home. Growing up in an abusive environment, with a narcissistic mother and a sociopathic father, life presented challenges that stretched far beyond the classroom. My father’s deeply ableist views, dismissing mental health diagnoses as excuses rather than valid explanations, meant crucial support was denied to me. This attitude contributed to five referrals for ASD assessments going ignored.
One of these referrals came from my internationally renowned pediatrician, a specialist in diagnosing complex cases. He wasn’t just any doctor—he cared for three generations of my family, including my daughter. His patients weren’t just patients; they were his kids. When my daughter fell ill at a year old, and six months later other doctors pushed for palliative care due to an inability to diagnose her condition (NYD), he fought tirelessly to give her a chance. His dedication gave us precious extra years together when others had none. He remains deeply committed to his work, and the running joke among nurses and generational families is that when he passes from this life to the next—following Plains Cree beliefs—it will be with his work shoes still on his feet. No one thinks he’ll ever truly retire because he cares far too much.
It wasn’t until 2019 that I finally received an ASD diagnosis. By then, other conditions like depression had also gone unnoticed. ADHD had been diagnosed in childhood, but ASD explained so much—especially the stark difference in my academic success between classroom learning and distance learning. Those with ASD often thrive when mentally challenged but struggle in environments that lack personalized stimulation. Distance learning gave me the freedom to focus, learn at my own pace, and excel in ways I hadn’t before.
Amid this adversity, I discovered my potential after joining an outreach school with distance learning modules. The flexibility allowed me to breeze through simpler topics and dive deeply into challenging ones that captured my interest. My grades soared—92s, 98s, and beyond. I completed three grades of regular English in one semester and then challenged the higher-level English diploma exam the next, earning a 98. It still amuses me that grammar and punctuation errors were the only things standing between me and a perfect score—ironic, but entertaining all the same!
Biology became my anchor during this transformative time. It was here I learned about alleles—how dominant traits, like brown eyes, could obscure recessive ones, like blue eyes—and the remarkable ways genetic combinations shape the diversity of life. Trisomy was another fascinating topic. Instead of the usual two genetic markers on a chromosome, trisomy occurs when there are three. In the case of trisomy 21, or Down syndrome, that extra chromosome alters development significantly, showcasing how even a small difference can have profound effects. These weren’t just lessons in science; they were lessons in compassion, complexity, and life itself.
During this time, I also met someone who changed my perspective in an unexpected way. At the outreach school, where we picked up modules to work on at home or in the classroom, I met another student who, like me, struggled with self-harm. She didn’t know it, but meeting her was the first time I didn’t feel so different or excluded from everyone around me. For the first time, I felt seen in a way I hadn’t before. That connection, however brief, reminded me that even in the darkest moments, there’s a shared humanity that can bring light.
My passion for biology naturally led me to chemistry, where I surprised myself by excelling despite my long-standing struggles with math. Looking back, it makes sense—my ASD and ADHD influence the way I process information, and chemistry made abstract numbers tangible by connecting them to everyday experiences. Whether it was cooking, cleaning, or medicine, the relevance of chemical reactions clicked for me. I thrived in chemistry, earning over 95, and deepened my appreciation for how science underpins our daily lives.
Looking back now, I see that high school didn’t just teach me about cells, atoms, and chromosomes—it taught me resilience. Despite the bullying and the pain I faced at home, it became a place where I learned to handle life’s challenges in ways I didn’t fully understand until much later. Now, as I type about whatever comes to mind on my website, these buried memories surface and bring new insights. It’s through this process that I’m learning what high school truly taught me—skills and lessons that stayed hidden until I started to reflect and share my story.
High school science wasn’t just a subject for me—it was a mirror for growth, a source of empowerment, and a glimpse into the beauty of the world. It revealed that even in the face of adversity, there’s an incredible world of wonder to explore. Knowledge became my path to healing and empowerment, and it continues to shape how I engage with the world around me.
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