Decoding Dyslexia: Growing up “Behind”
T h i s is wh at dy sl exic r e a ders s e e .
This is a 3-part blog series exploring the dyslexic experience. Here, I talk about my personal history as a reader and as a mother of a dyslexic child. I’ll also talk about writing to a dyslexic audience and overcoming dyslexia as a reader in other posts.
I have always known I was different from other kids.
One of those differences came in the form of reading. I landed in the “struggling readers” group in elementary school, a conspicuous group of students who were not quite special needs but not quite keeping up.
My parents saw my struggle and took our pediatrician’s advise: a trip to the eye doctor. The optometrist said I had trouble focusing up close. I felt so relieved. It wasn’t my brain. It was my eyes! (Spoiler: It was my brain.)
This happened in the early 90s, a time when learning disabilities didn’t quite have the spotlight and resources they have today. Still, I had a parade of clever teachers who saw my struggles and went out of their way to teach and encourage me, and parents who made literature an essential part of life.
The glasses didn’t help. Words on the page still looked like strange glyphs unless I really took my time. I entered third grade, that exciting, terrifying year with multiplication and division tables, standardized tests, and the expectation of reading big blocks of text out loud to teachers and classmates.
Mrs. Richardson knew something many people, even educators, seem not to understand about children who struggle with reading: We want to read so, so badly. We just need some extra help and the right story.
My teacher quickly realized I had a problem. She had a habit of calling on kids who did not have their hands up, but kindly left me out of the shuffle when it was time to read out loud to the class. Instead, she gave me a book with big print and very short sentences, and a story about a girl and a unicorn that will stay in my head forever. It was the first chapter book I read by myself.
My son has similar struggles. He dreads reading, not because he doesn’t want to, but because reading for him is like swimming against a current when everyone else is on a speed boat. Many times he has thrown down a book and declared with tragic finality, “I hate reading. I hate myself.”
My heart brakes every time I hear this, both for his suffering, and because I had done the same (although not quite as loud) many times in my childhood. Here is a boy with incredible intelligence, imagination, and potential, brought low by the weight of expectations and a disorder fully outside his control.
Our pediatrician saw the signs early on. “Read,” he said. “Read early and often. Read everything. Read out loud to him. Play him audio books. Whenever possible, read.” We took this advice. At nine years old, my son is more well-read than I was as a college student. He has a deep affection for stories and history and loves audio books. He is slowly catching up to his peers in reading thanks to his school. They use the Wilson Reading System district-wide. It’s a system designed for dyslexic readers, but works wonderfully for everyone else as well.
Dyslexic readers want to read. Just how mountain climbers want to climb. We don’t need it to be easy. We need it to be worth the struggle. We need resources and encouragement. Little by little, we overcome obstacles and approach the summit. Pretty soon, we’re writing our own stories.
I have fond memories of my dad reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings at bedtime. I grew up on a steady diet of The Chronicles of Narnia and radio dramas like Adventures in Odyssey. Then came Harry Potter, a story about a boy who didn’t quite fit into his world, written to children who felt the same. Rowling’s prose was wonderful in its simplicity, her plot and characters compelling enough to spur me on even as I stumbled over basic words. It would take me days to get through a single chapter. But I was so determined to find out what happened next, I soldiered on.
If you’re an adult with dyslexia and you’ve fallen away from reading because it’s tedious and discouraging, I get it. I’ll give the same advice our doctor gave for our son: Read. Read early and often. Read everything. I highly recommend audiobooks, which are more accessible than they’ve ever been. In a world flooded with TikToks and sound bites, we’re not doing our brains any favors by foregoing long-form literature.
If you have a child you suspect may be dyslexic, I recommend an assessment, which you can do for free here. I also recommend an intervention reading system such as the Wilson program. Many schools have this or similar programs but won’t act without a formal diagnosis or an IEP (which is enormously frustrating). Be an advocate for your child and take our doctor’s advice:
Read. Read. Read.