Waht?

[Tor]

Waht?

School was the beginning of my individual experience with the world outside of my family. Up until that time I had no idea that people could be different than my family or that I could be different than others. I knew other kids my age but other than looking different, we all seemed about the same to me. I found out very soon after starting school that it made the differences between all of us kids clear. At first we tried to ignore these differences but discovered that the academic world we had entered was built on them.

At first, things went well enough but as numbers and letters entered the picture things got confusing. At times they all looked the same or did not look like anything meaningful at all. Counting was hard but eventually came to me but arithmetic was out of my reach. I understood the idea of adding and subtraction but the numbers themselves were the enemies of my learning. If I was given items like marbles and asked to take away some and what did I have left I could come up with the correct outcome. But put numbers to replace the items and I be came lost. Letters and words were similar. I learned words - knew what they meant and could use them appropriately but use letters to spell them and my brain went away.

I found that my experience was different than the other kids. Some seemed to get the hang of simple math and reading quickly and with ease. Others could not seem to get it at all or had a lot of trouble. Neither was the case where I was concerned. Every math problem and each word was an academic mountain I could climb. But I learned I could not go by the same path as the other kids. My lack of conformity stood out. I wondered why I was like this and tried not to be noticed.

This shortcoming became very public when classroom games involving math or spelling were played. It was noted that I rarely participated. I tried but could not keep up. The point of the game, most often, was getting the answer first and while I came up with the answer most of the time, it was never first. I thought I must not be as smart as the others and after a short time resigned my self to that fact. My teacher, however, was unwilling to accept my limitations. She thought, out loud, that I was not paying attention nor was I applying myself. In the middle of these games, she would stop, single me out and ask the questions directly to me. "Victor take 2, add 3, subtract 2 and multiply by 4. What do you have?" A headache was all I “had”.

Whenever my teacher's spotlight stare found me, my mind fled, each time alittle farther. My lack of ability to respond was not wasted on my classmates. I honestly believed they waited, gleefully, for these intense encounters between my teacher and me. At first they laughed, and then gradually they just sat and watched. I felt as though I were a bug under a magnifying glass. My stony silence may not have been the best idea but it was all I could manage at that time.

This behavior seemed to spur my teacher on to greater efforts to pull answers out of me. A particularly big confrontation came one morning during math class. My teacher wrote a simple addition problem on the blackboard turned to the class and said the words I dreaded most – "Victor come to the blackboard and do this addition". I thought, “Why don't you just kill me and stop this torture. I wanted to run away but I knew that was not possible – I had been told I must face my problems and right now my teacher was my problem. I stood up and walked slowly to the blackboard. It was a very long walk. On the way, I frantically first tried to do the addition failing this I tried to think of a way to get out of this situation. I failed at both tasks and arrived at the board. As I stared at the addition problem, my heart raced and my stomach churned. The only thing of mine not working was the part of my mind that deals with math.


Hour long seconds crawled by as I stood there. My teacher said something but I could not hear her, as the noise in my head was too loud. But I could hear my classmates laughing, laughing at me. I felt smaller and smaller but I was still standing there. Finally, my teacher gave up and banished me to my seat. She replaced me at the blackboard by a classmate who quickly solved the problem and sat down.

This was the lowest point in my young life and as I sat there contemplating a grim academic future stretching endlessly before me; I knew I would be unable to face more humiliation like this. I wondered why I could not do the "work" like the others. Was I stupid? The teacher seemed to think I was not trying hard enough and if I only would try harder I would "get it". I doubted that, but resolved to try harder. But I knew if I could not keep up with my peers, I must have ways to protect myself from the pain of their derision.

I was so deep in these thoughts that I did not hear my teacher announce recess. When she came over to me and told me to go outside for recess, I told her I felt ill and could I just stay in my seat. It was not a lie. The thought of being at the mercy of my fellows so soon after my humiliation turned my stomach. I was allowed to sit there and at lunchtime I ate at my desk. Mixed in with my burning embarrassment was anger toward my classmates. Why had they laughed at me? I saw nothing funny in my suffering. But unable to figure it out, I knew I needed to find ways to take the sting out of their laughter. After all, given my problems with numbers and words, I was bound to provide them with many occasions to laugh at me. This was not going to "go away", so I needed to find a way to cope.

It occurred to me that I should do everything I could to avoid situations in which I was vulnerable and failing that I should make them laugh "on purpose" before "my mistakes" caused them to laugh. Some how, making them laugh, felt like I would have "control" and it would not hurt so much. I resolved to start immediately putting these strategies into practice.

That afternoon, I avoided any questions; I tried to be invisible. I did not make eye contact with the teacher hoping she would not notice me or call on me. Even when I knew the answer I would not volunteer. It was better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt, as my Grandmother was fond of saying.

I discovered that I had something of a talent for being "clever" with the very words I could not spell. A talent that my classmates enjoyed but often the teacher did not. I had found a workable method to avoid ridicule but had to learn how to be judicious in its use. The line, I found, between funny and obnoxious was a thin one. However it was made clear to me when I crossed over it. But even being disciplined for such a trespass was better than being laughed at for my shortcomings.

This worked well until the end of the year when it was decided that I would not be advancing to the second grade. I had started school one year younger than my classmates had due to my fall birthday. This was the "straw" that made the choice to hold me back
easier for my parents and teacher but not for me. I thought, another year of banging my head against things I had not gotten this year. Plus, everyone knew I had failed to pass and I would see them all everyday next year. There it was another crushing blow with which to deal.

But deal with it I must, so I polished up my "clever" kid act and over the summer got ready for the new school year. A lot of work went into maintaining a blank face, no matter what happened. Jokes were funnier and fear or embarrassment was not easy to see on a blank face. Over time I got very good at keeping a "straight-face", in fact, to this day I have trouble smiling. It is difficult and doesn't look right to me. Instead I just grin.

The new school year started and I fell into my routine, always on edge trying to be aware of everything going on in the classroom. I was doing ok for awhile and did manage to pass to the second grade at the end of the year. But the system had a new challenge for me – a standardized test to measure aptitude and intelligence.

To my surprise, I did very well on this test. I scored at high school level. But this was not all "good news" for my grades did not match the test results and my teacher and family started blaming my poor performance on my being lazy, day dreaming and not applying myself. Instead of getting better my classroom life got more intense. I was put near the front so I could be watched and pushed. My strategies did not work as well under my new circumstances, so I was back to constant tension.

Over time, I discovered I was learning but not like the other kids. I just knew things without knowing how I knew them. Often studying for a test I would despair, as I couldn't seem to remember any thing. But given the test I just wrote the answers down not knowing from where they came. As well, if called on in class, I would start talking and if I talked long enough the answer came out. This last thing took some getting used to but I learned to make the first part of my speech a kind of prolog to my final answer. This accomplished two things – I gave more right answers and got called on less because I gave long answers.

Well, life got much better, far less tense and more predictable. Whenever I "gave up" and just gave an answer or just "listened" not trying to learn, I gave a good answer or just learned. It was when I was tired or under pressure that I could not produce. I now realize that I was dyslexic. What I was starting to do then was to find other ways to manage life because the standard ways did not work for me. This has been a continuous life long process for me. But this is not negative or positive; this is who I am and how I approach life. I tend to notice things others don't, I think of ways to do things that are not typical and being clever (some days more than others) has helped me to get things done in my life.

[caroljean]

Wow what an excetional story. I was relieved at the end when you finally realized you were dyslexic.

Years ago the school system should have implemented a short test review all children at the beginning of the year to pick up on abnormal academic funtioning. Thats why there is now a program called the Head Start Program.

I'm glad your dealing with it now.

[Tor]

Glad you liked the story - it was about 63 years ago. I am now retired . It turns out that much of the approches to treating this issue are what I and other figured out for ourselfs - there was no other choice. But now I am what I am - for good or bad hehehe
Tor