Learning and Living with Dyslexia

I learned to read in a mirror. This happened in the fourth grade. I have no memory of grades one through three, but my mom tells me that my teachers kept pushing me to the back of the class because I was retarded and that I would never learn or graduate from high school. My teachers wouldn’t give me any extra time or help in reading or writing. They would just say that I was unteachable and not give me any extra help. They had given up on me and somewhat ignored me. Soon the other kids in my class room noticed that I was different from them and started teasing me. Saying things like I was a retard and would never learn; they would call me a dummy, and say that I should wear the dunce cap in class. I learned that if I stayed to myself no one could tease me. I had very few friends, and the ones I had I really cherished. I remember walking home in tears because I was told so many times that I was stupid that I believed it. I would start crying in class out of frustration, because I didn’t understand what I was supposed to be doing. Imagine sitting in a room where you aren’t given a chance to learn like everyone else, where everything you are suppose to do is foreign to you, and no one helps or cares. My fourth grade teacher suspected that I had dyslexia due to writing my letters and numbers backwards. He told my parents his suspicion and together they agreed to have me tested.

When testing day arrived, I was pulled out of my class and taken to a small room in the school with a round table and chairs in it; with mirrors on the walls instead of windows. I don’t remember the test, just how the strange room looked. When I was finished with the testing I went back to my classroom.

When the results of the test came back, it confirmed what my teacher suspected: I was dyslexic. It was explained to me that I’m right eyed but left handed. So when I point at an object I close my left eye and point with my left index finger instead of my right index finger. Usually a person that is left handed but right eyed is dyslexic, so I’m told. That’s when the real fun began. I was taken back to the testing room, and began my reading program. As it turned out, I found out what the mirrors on the walls were for: they were there to help students who have dyslexia learn to read.

Dyslexia is a visual impairment. What it meant to me was that I was trying to read right to left and not left to right. The teacher used the mirrors to help me get started reading by putting a word in front of the mirrors. This helped me see the word as I should be seeing it. Then I was supposed to read the word that was in the mirror. It took me a long time to realize that what I was seeing without the mirror was wrong. I was taught to sound out any words that I was having trouble reading and writing. I was taught by using phonics. During the summers from fourth grade through sixth grade I went to reading class at Oregon State University. During the school year I would be pulled out of my regular classroom to take a special reading class. Since I was pulled out of class I missed out on some classroom work. I wasn’t given the time or opportunity in class to catch-up with my classmates. I was supposed to do that at night while I was doing my regular homework. I soon fell behind in class and my grades suffered for it. When it was grade report time and the report cards were sent home my friends would compare their grades and ask me what mine were. I was embarrassed so share my grades with them because they would start teasing me. The embarrassment went on all through grade school. Eventually when it came report card day I would lag behind my friends so I didn’t have to share my grades with them. In junior high I was once again pulled out of my classroom, only this time it was during the first half of my science class. Therefore I found it very hard to understand the subject matter. It was also difficult to keep up on my homework and class work. I also missed out on taking tests. The teachers in junior high were even more unforgiving when it came to my studies. It was a time where I would either sink or swim. Needless to say, I sank. I passed my classes with mostly D’s and a few C’s.

By the time I got to high school I was finished with the special reading classes. I can’t remember if my parents and teachers talked about it and decided that the special classes were helping me or not because I had fallen behind in everything else. Any way I didn’t go to any more reading classes. I could read but not at the level I should have been. At that time I needed extra help with my other studies, one of them being math. If you remember I told you that not only did I read backwards but I wrote my letters and numbers backwards.

I soon found out that high school teachers cared about their students and gave them extra help when needed. I will never forget my math teacher. Mr. Nathman gave me as much one on one help as he could. With Mr. Nathman’s help I passed math with good grades. Later on my mom told me that she and some of my teachers had a meeting about me where she told them about my disability, and that I would need some extra help with my studies. They soon realized that I learned by watching and hands on. Mr. Nathman would show me how to do a math problem, and explain the process as he did the problem. My grades started to improve, and I started feeling better about myself. I got a “can-do” attitude. For once in my life I was getting A’s, B’s, and C’s instead of D’s, and F’s. I owe my fourth grade teacher a big Thank-You for having faith in me and for realizing that I did indeed have a learning disability. I also owe my high school teachers a big Thank-you: because of the time and extra help, I was able to graduate from high school.

Thirty-five years later I’m back in school; only this time I’m in college. I’m still scared and worried about my studies. I still have a hard time understanding everything I read, and I still have trouble in math; but I have a “can-do” attitude. With the help of my teachers, husband, and family, I will pass my classes and get my degree.

To this day I still write my numbers backwards at times, and I still read very slowly, and I don’t always understand what I read; but I now enjoy reading, and I’m beginning to understand basic math. I also transpose my numbers making 25 look like 52. Sometimes I catch my mistakes but not all the time. Then when I get my papers back from the teacher, I feel really stupid. At these times it means that I’m either tired or I worked to fast and need to slow down and double check and sometimes triple check my work.

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