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Dyslexia? No Problem! In the spring of my daughter's fifth-grade year, I received a call from the nurse at her school, who told me that Alana had been hit in the eye with a ball at recess. She seemed fine, but because Alana was due for her annual eye exam and because she had been begging us to buy her a pair of eyeglasses for some time, I took her to the optometrist that afternoon. The doctor told us that Alana's eyes looked "perfect." When I pressed her and told her of Alana's increasing concern about her eyesight, she looked at me as if I were being deliberately obtuse. "In that case, you're talking about an integration problem, not a vision problem." When Alana and I stepped into the hallway, I was still trying to figure out what she meant when I noticed that Alana was crying. "Mom, I wish somebody could figure out what's wrong with my eyes." Only then did I realize that I had to face something I'd been avoiding for a long time-but I still had no idea what I now had to face. Alana had always been the kind of child you wanted to show off: she was obedient, gentle; she did well in school, and always extended herself to others. Teachers had always commented on her maturity, her capacity for leadership, her stunning intellectual potential. Except in second grade, when a new and poorly trained teacher suggested that she might be dyslexic, no one had ever mentioned the word "disability" in connection with my daughter. Because Alana was so smart, it was easy to dismiss her second-grade teacher's comments-it was unfathomable, everyone said, that a child of Alana's intellectual caliber might be dyslexic. However, I was surprised that Alana rarely chose to read independently, and seemed unable to spell well or consistently. Even though we thought little of her teacher, and in part simply to prove the teacher wrong, we had hired a renowned neuropsychologist from Albert Einstein Medical Center to conduct an evaluation that only confirmed what we already knew: that Alana was especially bright and had no diagnosable disabilities. But three years later, on the way home from that appointment with the eye doctor, I knew something was wrong. I called Alana's original neuropsychologist at Albert Einstein and asked her if she could have made a mistake. Her response floored me. "Yes," she said. She apologized. "It's sometimes especially hard with bright kids." She gave me the name of another evaluator, this one at New York University's Learning Diagnostics Center. So began our journey into recognizing and understanding our daughter's dyslexia. Once a week for two months, Alana and I traveled from our home in New Jersey to New York City. At NYU, she was given a battery of intelligence, neurological, and psychological tests intended to assess her level of cognitive functioning and determine intellectual and academic areas of strength and weakness. At the end of that process, we received a single-spaced, 20-page report, of which I remember reading only one astonishing statement: "Alana can read, but only with great effort." My daughter had been diagnosed with dyslexia. Her medical diagnosis reads "Reading Disorder"-in other words, a diagnosable learning disability. Although I knew the report didn't lie-in fact, it made crystal clear why Alana had never made much progress in terms of her spelling, even though, by all accounts, her teachers were effective instructors-I was incredulous. My daughter was a straight-A student. How was it possible that she had not been diagnosed sooner? How had this star student gotten by undetected? Paradoxically, the praise Alana received and the general recognition of her intellectual capability spoke to the most common misperception about dyslexia, one that I shared: because Alana was not stupid, she could not be dyslexic. Stated another way, I thought only "dumb" people couldn't read. But that just isn't so. Dyslexia is a neurological condition that interferes with a person's ability to analyze the structure of words, and to apply an understanding of that structure when reading and spelling. It has no more to do with intelligence than does back pain or bunions. But unlike back pain or bunions, dyslexia makes reading and spelling extremely effortful, if not impossible. Because of that, it can make you look careless, unfocused, even stupid. There were times when Alana did appear careless-she could spell the same word different ways on the same page, or be unable to locate "behind" or "left" automatically-careless in the way absent-minded professors look unfocused. Worse, though, was that because she never understood why reading and spelling were so effortful, she sometimes felt stupid-really stupid. Experts suggest that one of five to seven Americans is dyslexic. Of all the challenges people with dyslexia face, problems processing language, including spelling and writing, are the most commonly recognized. However, dyslexia causes other kinds of frustrations as well, both in the classroom and in the everyday world. For example, due to processing problems, dyslexics can have difficulty writing by hand, and their handwriting often appears sloppy or "immature." To get an idea of how this plays out in the real world, spend a day writing with your non-dominant hand. Even if you try your best, your handwriting will not look pretty. Now to help you understand what it feels like to be a dyslexic in a classroom, show what you've written to someone else and ask that person to comment on your handwriting. Does that person comment on how childlike it is? Tasks such as filing or organizing, which are generally easy for non-dyslexics, can challenge dyslexics, as can tasks that involve spatial reasoning and processing information. To get an idea of what this is like for a dyslexic, take a walk to a familiar place in your neighborhood. Once there, make a mental note of all the left and right turns you made to get there. Now, on the return trip, when you get to the first intersection, flip a coin and turn right for heads, left for tails. At the next intersection, turn the proper way to get home-but then, at the next intersection, do the coin trick again. Carry on for 15 or 20 minutes, or until you get home. Frustrated? Because most dyslexics can't rely on remembering spatial directions with anything that feels close to automaticity, many must consciously try to remember spatial directions each and every time they're given, or else meet the frustration that results when this effort has not been made. All told, it's estimated that, just to get through the day, dyslexics' brains work five times as hard as those of non-dyslexics. The more I learned about dyslexia, the more I tried to fathom how Alana had avoided detection, even-or, especially, by-her teachers. I soon learned that the combination of her oral skills and her excellent classroom behavior enabled, even encouraged teachers-especially in elementary school-to overlook the discrepancy between her intellectual potential and such performative skills as spelling and handwriting. Second, many dyslexics learn to compensate for the perceptual challenges with written language so early that they don't even know they're doing it. For example, like a lot of dyslexic kids, Alana was bright enough and motivated enough to have memorized a huge storehouse of words, which she could apply to reading tasks apparently with great effort, but usually successfully. For example, some time ago, before her remediation program began, Alana came across an unfamiliar word while reading: belaboring. After a few minutes trying to decode it, she gave up. "Mom, I can't make it out. I get the boring, but I can't put it together." Despite all my research and all the testing she had undergone, until that moment I had no idea how effortful reading was for her. Dyslexics are legally covered under the provisions of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). Now, at school, Alana has an IEP, or Individualized Education Plan. Besides multisensory reading remediation classes provided by the school, this document articulates numerous accommodations that can be used in the classroom to help Alana succeed. They include allowing her to use assistive technology such as a portable keyboard, a tape recorder if she wishes to tape lectures, and a calculator in math. (Dyslexia often impacts "imprinting," or memorizing rote facts such as multiplication tables; the calculator is therefore an invaluable tool.) The IEP also allows her to have extra time on tests, and to take tests orally if she wishes. She "reads" her textbooks on tapes provided by the school and Recording for the Blind and Dyslexic (RFBD; see "For More Information"). And, of course, the IEP states that teachers are not allowed to downgrade her for spelling mistakes or handwriting problems. When putting the IEP document together with the Special Services team at Alana's school, it was important to us as well as to the school to find ways to accommodate her dyslexia while maintaining academic standards and requirements. With the best of intentions, parents and educators too often "dumb down" dyslexics. For example, out of a generous desire to reduce Alana's level of school stress, at the beginning of the present school year the Special Services team suggested keeping her at grade-level math, even though she was intellectually ready for the next, higher level. When Alana heard this, she was justifiably insulted. Ultimately, the school agreed to give her an evaluation test; she passed, and was placed in the higher-level math class, where she has received only A's. Alana's IEP is an important and valuable document that protects her and is fine-tuned by us and the school officials at the end of every school year. But we soon discovered that, although Alana's teachers were committed and conscientious, they were not always sure about how to implement the IEP-learning disabilities are rarely part of an average teacher's course of study. In order to create the best learning situation possible, one in which she would continue to thrive, respect herself, reach, and then reach a little further, Alana and I realized that we had to do some teaching ourselves. Not surprisingly, Alana took the lead (see sidebar, "Alana Osborn-Lief in Her Own Words"). Besides sending accessible and informative articles about dyslexia to her teachers, we regularly suggest alternative assignments to them. For example, I asked her English teacher if he would accept a chapter of the novel she had written over the summer in place of a book report, pointing out to him that this would be a different way of demonstrating her knowledge of plot, character, setting, and the rhetoric of fiction; he agreed and accepted the chapter. Alana has asked for and been given permission to create visual posters as substitutes for some of her lengthy written social studies assignments. Her math teacher allows her to do only every other assigned homework problem. Her science teacher encourages her to take her tests orally. None of these alternatives compromises the teachers' standards, yet each helps Alana fulfill her academic potential. I also keep in close and regular contact with the Special Services team, her remediation instructor, and her teachers (e-mail is a real blessing here). And because her teachers are reaching, just as Alana is, we always-always-remember to thank them. We have also learned, in a new way, the value of praise. Because it always took Alana a long time to do her homework, I used to tell her to get to work as soon as she came home from school. Because I now have a better understanding of the effort involved in getting through the day, instead of mandating homework, we mandate hugs and downtime as soon as she comes home. Later, we assess the homework situation and plan. As we've grown to understand dyslexia better, we've found that a sense of humor can help us out of sticky moments. For example, once I realized how she was working to decode the word belaboring-applying a memorized sight word and struggling from there-I giggled. "Don't you remember Bela Boring, the old vaudeville dancer?" I asked. She laughed. Bela Boring is now a member of our family, and we call on her frequently for laughs. Alana deliberately pokes fun at my tidiness and excessive organization skills, and sometimes exaggerates her difficulty with spatial relations just to goad me. The other day, when I asked her to get my gloves, I said, "They're right behind you." In response, she looked up at the ceiling; seeing the look of astonishment on my face, she could hardly stop laughing. And I never fail to remind her that the man responsible for inventing the visual symbol that we associate with bright ideas-Thomas Edison, inventor of the light bulb-was dyslexic, as were many prominent intellectuals, artists, and businesspeople (see sidebar, "Famous Dyslexics"). When people hear about the effort we've made and continue to make every day to ensure Alana's success in school, many of them ask about the amount of hard work involved. Isn't it a lot, they ask? Yes. Would I be doing it if she were not dyslexic? Yes. Why? Because I'm not raising a dyslexic; I'm raising a leader. FOR MORE INFORMATION Organizations Learning Disabilities Association of America (LDA) is a parent-run national organization offering support groups and information to help families dealing with learning disabilities. 888-300-6710 (toll-free); 412-341-1515; www.LDAAmerica.org. National Center for Learning Disabilities (NCLD) is a national organization that develops research-based programs for teachers and parents, shapes public policy, and maintains an online database of learning disabilities resources. 888-575-7373 (toll-free); 212-545-7510; www.LD.org. Recording for the Blind and Dyslexic is the nation's largest educational library providing tapes and CD-ROMs for people with print disabilities; their motto is "Learning Through Listening." 866-732-3585; www.rfbd.org. Website For more information about dyslexia, see the following past issues of Mothering: "Overcoming Dyslexia Using Symbols," no. 83 and "Bodywise: Making Learning Physical," no. 46. Susan Osborn is a writer and teacher; her latest novel, Surviving the Wreck, was published by John Macrae/Henry Holt and Co. and Econ Verlag. FAMOUS DYSLEXICS IF YOU THINK YOUR CHILD MIGHT BE DYSLEXIC |
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