I can’t count the number of times that people have said to me “Dyslexia is nothing, don’t worry about it!”. People say this with the best of intentions, but unfortunately, it provides little comfort. Until you of your child suffers from dyslexia, you won’t understand it’s complexity or the frustration and pain it can cause.
I am blessed with a healthy little boy, and I fully appreciate that there are parents in this world that face enormous challenges with their children’s health. I am in awe of their strength, dignity, and courage. By writing the following post, I in no way intend to diminish the difficulties and challenges that millions of parents and children face. This blog post is just a little story about a little boy facing some small challenges, and his mom's struggle to come to terms with the fact that she can’t protect him from everything.
When my son was little, he was extremely verbal from 2 years old. He barely uttered a word before two and then had a “language explosion.” He has not had a quiet moment since. His verbal language has always been above average. His vocabulary has often been a source of amusement for friends and us – hearing this little boy expressing himself like an adult. The other striking thing about my son is his insatiable thirst for knowledge and passion for science that began at age 3. He can understand incredibly complex scientific theories and spends much of his spare time doing science experiments with his dad.
When I see my son, I see a vibrant, expressive, curious little person who is intrigued by the world and how it works. He is passionate about the environment and one day hopes to be a scientist. He is bright, articulate, witty and funny although he can often barely sit still. He is in constant motion and can talk the leg of a chair.
The feedback I was getting from school was entirely different. My son was below average academically, often distracting others. He also had difficulty focusing on his work. He was frequently in trouble for talking and being silly. When I asked his teacher what his strengths were, she struggled to find an answer. I had the sense that she only saw what he wasn’t and she never saw what he was. As a mother that was heartbreaking. I went to the school four or five times over two years to alert them to the fact that something wasn’t adding up. That the child they described was not the child I knew. I think they thought that I was crazy and had a deluded idea of my son's capabilities. They quickly dismissed my concern, and to appease me, they provided my son with some reading support. After nine months of reading support, he had made little improvement. I once again raised my concerns and was told that I had unrealistic expectations with regards to how quickly he should improve.
The final straw came when I had a parent teacher meeting, and the teacher told me “he is just below average!” My motherly instincts were screaming inside of me saying “this just isn’t true!”. I finally took him to an educational psychologist to have him assessed for any learning difficulties including Dyslexia. The results were conclusive – he was Dyslexic and has borderline ADHD (most likely related to the Dyslexia). He had all the hallmark issues that surround Dyslexia including poor working memory & slow processing speed. His verbal reasoning was extremely high, and he has an above average IQ. We have also now discovered that he has motor control issues which make it difficult for him to sit still and concentrate.
We have since changed his school. His new school has a specialized Dyslexia Unit, and I am thrilled that he is now finally getting the support that he needs. While it is still very early days, we are confident that he will make great progress.
It has taken a little while for my husband and me to accept that he is dyslexic. Initially, it was easier to believe that his diagnosis was a mistake than accept that school is always going to be a little more challenging for him and accept that at a very young age he already has a hill to climb.
As a mom, I still have a cry each week because my 7-year-old doesn’t always spell his name correctly and that his handwriting is barely readable. I cry when he tells me he isn’t good at anything. I cry because he is reprimanded for things that aren’t always within his control (like his fidgeting or not concentrating). Sometimes I cry just because I know what an intelligent little man he is and there seems to be an invisible wall between what he is currently capable of and his full potential. I know full well how difficult that wall will be to climb.
As a mom, I feel sad that he has to work harder than others to reach his full potential. I am sad when he gets frustrated because basic spelling is so hard. I am sad that his current spelling level is two years behind other children his age and I feel a twinge of sadness when other parents talk about how wonderfully their children and doing at school.
I don’t want this for him; I don’t want his life to be difficult in any way, and I don’t want him ever to stop loving to learn. I pray that he doesn’t grow up feeling that dyslexia is a reflection of his intellect and I pray that he will learn to appreciate the intellectual gifts that dyslexia can also bring.
