She made it to Harvard. But no one saw her ADHD.

By Isabella Chavez, Bethel Kifle, Piper Mangold and Natalie Spina

August 10, 2026

Youthcast Media Group®

Getting into Harvard was supposed to be proof that Oyewumi Oyeniyi had done everything right. Instead, she found herself unable to start assignments and struggling to focus – even in classes she enjoyed. 

“Everybody else is succeeding,” she remembers thinking. “What is wrong with me that I can't do this?” 

Oyewumi Oyeniyi (courtesy of Oyeniyi).

Nearly two years later Oyeniyi, now 20, learned the answer: ADHD. 

Researchers say Oyeniyi represents an often overlooked group when it comes to learning disability identification: high-achieving, female students of color. 

Jacqueline Rodriguez, CEO of the National Center for Learning Disabilities, has seen how high achievement can complicate identification in her own family. Rodriguez’s daughter was assessed for dyslexia after her reading tutor recognized signs of the disability. 

“She was told she was too high-performing to be qualified for services… which was very frustrating,” Rodriguez said. “That’s why I keep doing what I do.” 

According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Black children are less likely than their peers to be identified with learning disabilities and ADHD, while studies have found that girls' symptoms are more likely to be overlooked or misinterpreted. Advocates and researchers say those disparities are compounded by inequities in school funding and access to evaluations, particularly in low-income communities.

The issue comes as proposed federal education budget cuts could reduce research, teacher preparation and support programs that advocates say help schools identify and serve students with disabilities. The result, educators say, is a system in which many students with learning disabilities are identified late—or not at all—potentially affecting their academic performance, mental health and long-term educational outcomes. Education has also long been linked to income, overall health and longevity in studies by researchers, including UCLA professor of economics Adriana Lleras-Murray.

Jacqueline Rodriguez (courtesy of Rodriguez).

Early intervention is key, but access is uneven

Oyeniyi attended six different public elementary schools in Philadelphia until seventh grade, she said. 

“We moved around a lot, actually, and so that was difficult,” she said. “It's all kind of a blur.”

Federal law requires school districts to identify and evaluate children with disabilities through a mandate known as Child Find—even if students move frequently, are homeless or continue passing their classes. 

Rodriguez said Child Find is a critical protection because schools are legally responsible for identifying students who may have disabilities.

Carrie Gillispie (courtesy of Gillispie).

And finding kids at a young age is best, experts say.

“The earlier you can intervene and give someone strategies and tools and special education services, physical therapy, speech therapy… the better trajectory for that person, potentially, because their brain's developing and you want to get in there really early,” said Carrie Gillispie, project director for early development and disability with the policy group New America. 

For Mazie Levin, another high-performing Philadelphia school district student with the less commonly diagnosed inattentive form of ADHD, having a parent advocate and the resources to get private testing made diagnosis much faster.

Mazie Levin (courtesy of Levin).

Levin, 18, who graduated from the Creative and Performing Arts High School (CAPA) this year, was diagnosed in fourth grade, after her mother noticed problems in her attention and focus and asked for testing. The school, however, did not see a problem, because Levin – like Oyeniyi and many other girls with ADHD – was doing well in school.  

So Levin’s mom took it into her own hands. She paid about $800 for private testing through Temple University, a cost many families couldn’t afford. (Private testing costs from $1,500 to over 3,000, on average, depending on the type. Temple's program offers a discount because their clinic is staffed with graduate students.) 

It certainly wouldn’t have been an option for Oyeniyi, she says. 

“My family definitely would not have been able to afford that,” she said. 

When the system works 

Early diagnosis can make an enormous difference. 

Josephine Eltzschig (courtesy of Eltzschig).

When Josephine Eltzschig, a 17-year-old rising senior at Bellaire High School in Houston, Texas, struggled with reading in second grade, a teacher recognized the signs and recommended that she be tested for dyslexia. Josephine attended West University Elementary School in West University Place, one of Houston’s most affluent suburbs. Her school identified her dyslexia early and she received specialized instruction and accommodations such as extended testing time and text-to-speech technology.

"I had a lot of support from my teachers and my classmates," she said. "I knew we would get through it together."

But educators say that level of support depends heavily on where a student lives. 

Gillispie of New America, herself a former special education teacher and school psychologist, witnessed those disparities firsthand throughout her career in five states. In one lower-income North Carolina district, she was responsible for evaluating students across three elementary schools. Years later, she worked in a well-resourced district outside Boston where three school psychologists served a single school building.

"So you can imagine if you're in a school that has one-third of a person visiting sometimes to help identify and evaluate kids, versus one school with three adults who know the kids in the building and spend all their time there," Gillispie said. "That's a real inequity."

According to Gillispie, those disparities ultimately come down to funding and access to trained specialists. Students in wealthier districts are often more likely to have access to learning difference evaluations, interventions and experienced professionals, while students in lower-income communities may face longer waits and fewer resources.

Looking for ways to close the gap

As schools across the country face growing demand for special education services, special education teacher shortages and the looming threat of further federal funding cuts, some districts are looking for creative, low-cost ways to get students the help they need. 

One response to the special education staffing shortage is the grow your own (GYO) model – which helps existing teachers, paraprofessionals and teacher aides become certified special education teachers while continuing to work in schools. Tennessee has been cited as a national model for GYO, and districts such as Philadelphia have expanded similar paraprofessional-to-teacher pathways. In Detroit, the public school system’s On the Rise Academy covers tuition for teachers getting additional special education licenses as long as they teach in the district for three years. 

However, teacher shortages remain a challenge particularly in high-need schools where vacancies are difficult to fill. Advocates say efforts like GYO must be paired with greater investment in schools.

“When we hear from general educators that they want to serve kids, but they still feel unprepared to teach kids who think and learn differently, that to me is maybe on par with the biggest barrier around funding schools. It's preparing the educators for those schools,” said Rodriguez. 

For students like Mazie Levin, expanding access to evaluations remains a priority. Because she was diagnosed early, she said she understood why she learned differently from some of her peers.

"Not everyone has the resources to get diagnosed, or to get diagnosed as early as I did," Levin said.

Oyeniyi is working on the petition that would allow her to return to Harvard this fall. She spent the spring and summer working with after-school and summer camp programs at the YMCA in Philadelphia and says she’s “definitely a little nervous but also excited” to go back to college.

She understands why teachers may not have recognized the signs of her learning disability early on, but she said the delay left her feeling like she’s been forced to start over.

“If somebody had just picked up on things a little bit sooner, a little bit earlier, or paid a little bit more attention, I wouldn't be here right now,” she said. “Like I wouldn't be essentially back at stage one, trying to figure out my mind and how it works, and how I learn all over again, just because nobody thought to take a closer look.”

She said she also struggles with the feeling that her success may have made it harder for people to see that she was struggling.

“It's hard, because when you're wearing a brave face, and you seem to be okay, you can't be mad at people for not noticing the cracks,” she said. “But by God, do you wish somebody would notice the cracks.” 

Oyeniyi hasn’t let go of her goals to get her masters degree and work with children and adolescents in the mental health field. But this time she’s approaching college differently, she said.  

"I think a lot of what neurodivergent students, gifted students, students in general do is just heap so much expectations on themselves and then it leads to burnout," she said. "And I'm in the process of just letting myself exist in the moment."

Her immediate goal is simple: “Go back to school, try my best to be successful and just be happy, be joyful and embrace the moment.”

Isabella Chavez is a senior at Miami Lakes Educational Center, Bethel Kifle is a senior at Bellaire High School in Houston, Piper Mangold is a senior at The Philadelphia High School for the Creative and Performing Arts, and Natalie Spina is a freshman at Chestnut Hill College and a Youthcast Media Group intern. They worked with journalist-mentor and YMG Director of Content and Programs, Brie Zeltner, on this story.