As I have mentioned many times, I am dyslexic. Severely dyslexic in fact. Can I be honest with you, it fucking sucks. I am perfectly aware that of all the difficulties in life that I could have dyslexia is probably a fairly good one to be lumbered with (I'm very thankful that I'm only dyslexic), but please make no mistake, it fucking sucks.
I fully accept that not many will understand the magnitude of dyslexia and just how much it affects a person's every day life, but what has surprised me somewhat over the past few years is just how little the fellow teachers I have worked with know on the subject. I know that some people will think I am simply talking about 'reading and writing', well I'm not. Not even close. It affects everything. No matter what you want to do with your life it will affect you because it's there, it just sits there quietly causing you to become untangled with disorganisation or frustrated when you inevitably misread something pretty important, and so on and so forth. I cannot tell you the number of times I have walked into a door frame because my spacial awareness has decided to take a holiday. Yep, that is dyslexia too. It's a good thing I think bruises look good then. Ahem. Oh, and I can't ride a bike either. I have learnt more than once, but I always forget. A random thing that affects just a small handful of us dyslexics. Lucky us.
Dyslexia does not take into account the seriousness of your task or the importance of it. It does not care if you really want something or are putting in that bit more effort than anyone else. It does not care if you have done something nice for someone, helped a charity and simply need a lucky break. It will affect you wherever and whenever it feels like and frankly, if you are going to cry over it you won't get very far because it will be there each and everyday that you are alive. The best you can do is deal with it early on and accept it. Things could be far worse, and if you concentrate on what you can do you'll go far my son.
Before I go though, let me put dyslexia into some sort of context; about five years ago Dynasty and I both happened to be up sticks and moving at the same time (to different locations, unfortunately) and both stumbled across our year 4 reports when wading through our possessions. They made us chuckle and so we compared to see how different we were at the same age. Ha! I have never felt so inferior. Dynasty's reading age at the end of year 4 was around 14years old, for a 9 nine year old this is pretty good; mine, on the other hand, was that of a 4 and a half/5year old. No joke. Do not fear, I didn't care, I can now read just fine, thank you (if not slow, but I'll get onto that). Essentially though there was 10years difference between mine and my best friends reading ability before we'd even reached 10years old. How can someone whose reading is so significantly lower than that of her class mates possibly be expected to complete the same task in the same amount of time!? Seeing your classmates finishing something before you are even a quarter of the way through is a definite confidence knocker.
Another fairly Shitting-hell-dyslexia-really-is-pooey moment was having my dyslexia testing at university. This frustrates me come to think of it. Dyslexia is something you're born with and does not go away. We learn to cope with it, but it doesn't go anywhere, it hides until you think you have almost forgotten about it and then it launches an attack when you least expect it, but it doesn't go away. So why, if we know that it doesn't evaporate do we have to subject people with dyslexia to the utter humiliation of testing time and time again!? This makes no sense to me. Entering university I was told I had to be 'retested' as my last test was over 4years ago. Retested? Re-fucking-tested? Where did they think the dyslexia had gone to? A fortnights holiday in the French Riviera? A world cruise perhaps!? Anyway, that rant aside, when the uni kindly informed me that I was dyslexic (it was such a shock...who knew I was dyslexic? I. DID!!) they informed that I read 75% slower than someone of average intelligence and then proceeded to tell me that I was above average intelligence. So basically, if I wasn't dyslexic my reading would more than 80% faster than it is now. Somethings are better not knowing, I think. Think of what I could do with 80% more time though!? I was then told without dyslexia I would also be able to process a lot more information than I do now without it 'getting lost'. Isn't that just spiffy.
Ok, I know I am making this sound a little dramatic but with all honesty, I am still phenomenally frustrated with how little people understand about it. Most of you have a delightfully organised system within your brain that sends all the information you need from one end to the other, similar to a one way system. Hurrah for you! Mine, on the other hand, like all dyslexics, has a system the lets all the information run around like headless chicken's trying to find where they are meant to be stored. I imagine it's something like the Parisian traffic around the Arc de Triomphe, with manic Frenchman driving information around my head not caring who or what they bump into, or at what speed for that matter. No wonder after an information overload my brain decides to throws items away. Be thankful for your simple one way system people!
So, if you are a teacher, new or old, please give that dyslexic child in your class a little leeway on time to complete their work. Imagine, just for a second, that your brain was the Arc de Triomphe and maybe you'll understand why they are taking longer than anyone else. They are just trying to pick out the correct vehicle of information among all those crazy Parisian drivers. It's a tricky job and so a little time consideration will make all the difference. I don't like dyslexics that make excuses, but I am telling you with the right teacher they won't need to. You, teacher friend of mine, can make all the difference. The right beginning is essential.
Thanks to my mum I had mine, but without her...strewth!
No comments:
Post a Comment