Kildunne’s ADHD also helps explain another shocking revelation in her book, which occurred when she was in her final year at Hartpury College. Kildunne, who left home at 16 to attend the specialist education provider in Gloucestershire, had never struggled academically before. She writes fondly about her village primary school in East Morton and her private co-ed secondary school, Woodhouse Grove, where she had forced her way onto the boys’ rugby team, refusing to take no for an answer.
But by her final year at Hartpury she had been selected by England and was making regular trips to Bisham Abbey. The constant juggling was taking a toll on her schoolwork. Kildunne recalls a lesson in which her teacher accused her of being disruptive and even of being “disabled”.
“The teacher lost it with me, shouting and screaming,” Kildunne writes. “They said I had problems and I needed to go get myself checked out. They said that something wasn’t right with me in the head and, worst of all, that they thought I might be disabled.”
The teacher, it should be stressed, was sacked some time later after Kildunne told her mother of the incident, whereupon she “drove down to Hartpury instantly”. But the comment had a significant effect on Kildunne, as she felt “crushed inside” and “pretty much gave up in all subjects”.
Kildunne does not name the teacher, or even what gender they were. But she does say pointedly that she “hopes teachers read the book”. “I know that understanding of ADHD is way more advanced now. People speak up about it on social media. But at the time I just felt so stuck and like, why can I not understand this?”
Kildunne leans into her ADHD these days, describing it as her “superpower”. So much so, she has stopped taking the medication she was given to bring it under control. “I like chaos; that’s just the way I’m wired,” she reasons in the book, adding that her hairstyle is a reflection of that. “It’s not straight hair. It’s loud and in your face, and I like that.”