Council Estate Cub Pack

A Quiet Moment: ADHD on the Estate

Every now and then, between the sawdust, the dodgeballs, and the noise ,we get a moment to breathe and really see our Cubs.
And when we do, one thing becomes painfully clear:

A lot of our kids are struggling with ADHD and autism and…
Not the “a bit chatty, a bit fidgety” version people joke about.
The real thing.
The kind that affects confidence, friendships, schoolwork, sleep, emotions every corner of their day.

We see the kids who can’t sit still even when they’re trying their absolute hardest.
We see the ones who react too quickly because their brains don’t give them the pause other children take for granted.
We see the ones who wander, drift, forget, melt down, or explode because everything is just too much.

And the worst part?
Most of them know something is wrong… but can’t get help.

On our estate, the waiting list for an ADHD assessment isn’t months, it’s years.
Two years.
Three years.
Sometimes longer.

Schools try, but they’re overwhelmed.
Budgets are tight.
Support staff are stretched to the limit.
Some teachers don’t understand neurodiversity, and some simply don’t have the time to.

So the kids fall through the cracks.
They get labelled “naughty,” “disruptive,” “lazy,” “attention-seeking.”
When really, their brains are wired for movement, for intensity, for big feelings they can’t shrink.

And that’s why Cubs matters so much here.

For one hour a week, they’re not “problems.”
They’re not “behaviour cases.”
They’re not “difficult.”

They’re Cubs.
Kids with strengths, energy, creativity, loyalty, leadership, curiosity, all the things ADHD kids often have in abundance when someone actually sees them.

We give them structure without punishment.
Freedom without judgement.
Activities that let them move, build, shout, explore.
Adults who don’t take behaviour personally.
A place where their big feelings have room to exist safely.

We’re not doctors.
We’re not therapists.
We can’t shorten the waiting lists or force the system to understand them better.

But we can be here every week with patience, boundaries, humour, and a belief in their potential.

Sometimes that’s the only support they get.

And until the assessment letters finally arrive, possibly when they’re already in secondary school, we’ll keep showing up for them.

Quietly.
Steadily.
Without judgement.
And always with love.

Words from Kush…

I see this every day ,at Cubs, in schools, in clinics, in families trying their best.

“ADHD isn’t a lack of ability but it’s a lack of support.
Kids don’t fail because of ADHD.
They fail because they’re asked to do things without the tools they need.”

I see the emotional toll as well:

• the constant correction
• the sense of being “too much”
• the guilt after outbursts
• the fear of disappointing adults
• the exhaustion of masking all day at school
• the pressure to behave like kids whose brains work differently

I call Cubs a “reset space” somewhere they can be themselves without punishment or comparison.

“If a child with ADHD feels safe, understood, and accepted, their behaviour improves naturally.
If they feel judged or ashamed, everything gets worse.”

We keep that in mind at Cubs every single week.

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Why Cubs Matters So Much Here

For some of our kids, this is the only place they hear:

• “Well done.”
• “You’re doing great.”
• “It’s okay, try again.”
• “I’m proud of you.”
• “You’re not naughty, you’re learning.”

For others, it’s the only hour in the week where adults aren’t angry with them.

At Cubs, they’re not “disruptive.”
They’re energetic.
Not “forgetful.”
But curious.
Not “badly behaved.”
But overwhelmed and trying their best.

We give them what the school system often can’t:
movement, creativity, flexibility, humour, patience, and activities built for their brains, not against them.

We’re not here to fix them.
They don’t need fixing.

We’re here to support them.
To understand them.
To help them grow into who they already are:
brilliant, capable, funny, determined, emotional, and full of potential.

The waiting lists may be years long.
The system may fail them in a hundred ways.

But we won’t.