I have dyslexia. I have had it my entire life. I was not aware that I had it when I was in grade school. All I knew was that reading was not enjoyable, and other children my age could read quickly, and actually understood what they read. I couldn't understand that!
I remember a book when I was young entitled something like 'Spot, the dog.' It was a reading book for beginners about a boy and his dog named Spot. I remembered reading something similar to 'My god's name is tops,' and I was wondering why God was mentioned in a book about a dog..
My mom tells the story that my siblings enjoyed sitting next to her and have her read stories, but that I was never as interested in story time as they were. I don't remember that part, but believe that to be true.
Later in life, my parents told me they thought I might have dyslexia, but didn't have me tested. As I look back on that, I believe that was a blessing in disguise. I feel that if I had been tested, and determined that I had it back then, I would not have struggled in my studies, thinking I had something that could not be changed (as there was no research back those many years ago to help them) and gone through life thinking I was unable to learn, or worse, stupid. It wasn't an easy row to hoe, but as I look back, a needed experience for me. I am thankful to my parents for that decision they made on my behalf.
I could learn, and did, but not like the other children. It was always a struggle. I know the teacher, grade and school in great detail, where a huge negative impact came into my life. It is as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. In short, we had just moved into a new school district, where they learned the multiplication table in 3rd grade, and the school I came from learned them in 4th grade. The teacher I had was new that year...at the school. She was an elderly lady, never married, and had taught mainly in high school, but this was the highest grade she could find to teach. My parents and I thought all was going well, until the day I brought home the first report card in 4th grade.
Can you imagine what morale damage it does to a 4th grader to come home with D's and F's? Do you know how humiliating I felt literally lugging home all my books in my desk for rest of the year? Or the 'fun' time I knew was ahead of me that night doing homework with my mother's help? I have no idea how I passed that grade, other than I know my parents were talking with the principle, (apparently along with other parents as well) and help with the Good man above.
By the end of that school year, I was convinced I was stupid. I was embarrassed in that class for not knowing things. I made several promises to myself. One was to never ask questions in a classroom again. Another was that I would never read another book again. When I found out the next school year when I was in 5th grade, that she was now teaching 6th grade, I didn't care what my parents said, if I got her, I made a promise I would not go to school that year. (Luckily for apparently many, she was not teaching at that school when I got to 6th grade.)
School was a challenge for the rest of my life. I graduated from high school with my peers, but my grades were very poor. I felt that all should celebrate if I came home with a report card with nothing lower than a C-. Over time, I realized that I could learn things, but I could not learn from reading from a book alone.
With that background, I will fast forward many years. I got an associate degree at a technical college in building construction. I got good grades there. Half was study from books, half was hands on experience. I was taking classes in something I wanted to do, instead of the mandatory core classes. I got married to a wonderful woman, and been happily married for over 30 years now, and we had children.
Now with a wife and children to support, and construction work is feast or famine, I was trying to find employment anywhere I could that would be stable. So I got jobs from people who knew my dad, and had small companies where they needed help. I was trained in those jobs, but the position came more from people my dad knew instead of education I had gotten. I worked hard, but as is the case with small companies, challenges come up, and they had to downsize. This is when seniority hurts, as they are the ones that get paid the most, and are the first ones to go when you need to cut expenses.
I even expanded out, and with a friend started a custodial cleaning job at nights, after I worked. My wife worked odd jobs, and times, so that one of us would always be home with the children, our most prized gifts. We felt God gave them to us, and we had the responsibility to raise them, not others. Somehow, through the grace of God, we were able to meet our obligations, with a growing family. But we lived pay check to pay check, and never had extra.
Next Post: The straw that started the change.
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