Grades, Goals, and Glitches: Why I Struggle to Explain Motivation

There’s a question that always makes me feel like a software bug pretending to be a person: “What’s your motivation?”

It popped up again this week in a job interview. As expected. And as expected, I hesitated. My brain blinked like a cursor waiting for input: Motivation not found.

It’s not that I lack motivation. I just either have it, or I don’t. On. Off. Zero. One. And try explaining that to a hiring manager without sounding like a walking glitch.

Where Grades Didn’t Matter (and That Made Sense)

I grew up in a Waldorf school. No grades, no competition, no shiny reward systems. Just stories, handmade notebooks, theater, and beeswax. We didn’t get grades until 8th grade, and even then, only because we needed them to apply to high school. Learning wasn’t a performance, it was a process. Motivation wasn’t about the result, it was about the moment.

Later, when I applied to university, I aced the tests but completely choked on the personal interview. They asked why I chose that particular program. I couldn’t answer. Not because I didn’t care. I just didn’t have a narrative. I just did. The decision had felt right. My system had said “yes” and that was that. End of logic trail.

Years later, I found myself in a classroom again, this time on the other side: finishing my teaching license. One day we had to talk about motivation in pedagogical terms. Grades as external motivators. Reward systems. Behaviorism. And there I was again, glitching silently in a corner.

Not because I didn’t know the theory — but because I didn’t feel it. I couldn't relate. My brain just doesn’t respond to gold stars or “good job” stickers. It responds to interest, connection, creativity, urgency. When I feel it, I’m all in. When I don’t… good luck prying me out of executive dysfunction with a carrot on a stick.

Job Interviews: The Motivation Question That Breaks My Brain

So back to this week, at the job interview.

“Why do you want to work for us?”

What do I say?

“Money” is true but doesn’t sound great.

“Because I want to” feels immature.

“I’m neurodivergent and my dopamine system doesn’t respond to socially accepted stimuli” might be a bit too much for a first impression.

But here’s the thing: I’m not lazy or aimless. I just don’t do well with arbitrary goals or abstract rewards. I need to feel something.

A purpose.

A spark.

Urgency, curiosity, creativity, resonance — these are the things that switch me on.

Without them, I stall.

With them, I fly.

Is It Just Me? (Spoiler: It’s Not)

It took me years to realize this is a real, shared experience. Not a flaw. Not a failure. It’s called motivation dysregulation, and it’s common in people with ADHD and other neurodivergent brains. We don’t run on “should” or “have to.” We run on meaning and momentum. And when the switch flips, we can be unstoppable.

So no, I probably won’t ever have a clean, rehearsed answer to that interview question. But I know this:

• I do my best work when I care.

• I follow sparks, not schedules.

• I need to feel connected to what I’m doing, or at least believe that it matters.

• And if I glitch from time to time, that’s fine — I’ll still find my way to the glory.

If you're also someone who struggles to explain your motivation, you’re not broken. Maybe you’re just not built for a world that runs on gold stars. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.