1 fum and 4 thingers…

by an anonomous contributor

Thoughts of a 15-year-old young person with dyslexia

Some people are beginning to think that it’s not just dyslexia, that I have an auditory processing disorder too. At the moment, Siri is screwing me over as I look for the spelling of bath bombs. What, it has a B at the end? – that can’t be right. I delete it several times thinking Siri has got it wrong, thinking I am the smarter one. Using Siri is meant to be my way of not having to ask teachers or adults for help. But obviously it doesn’t work all the time and nor was it available for most of my primary schooling.
When I was four or five, I attended the nursery connected to my mother’s workplace. Driving home from it I asked her on what day would I be able to read. She might have thought I was joking but I was serious. I imagined my older brother had woken one day being able to read and I was waiting for it to happen to me. Just like you lose your baby teeth and these are then replaced overnight, reading felt like it should happen instantaneously.

All Gaelic to me

My early primary education was taught completely in Gaelic. For a while I quite liked learning through this medium because it was less embarrassing to not be able to read Gaelic given that none of my friends could read it either. However, when they were reading and writing in both Gaelic and English they didn’t seem to struggle with either language and it was then that I began to feel less normal and therefore less smart. Failing in one language was bad enough but failing in BOTH languages felt humiliating.

I started in big groups of Learning Support and then very quickly moved to one-to-one support. In these sessions I memorised those early readers, like Six Dinner Sid, so that it appeared as though I could read phonetically. This made the lessons more bearable and less tiring for me and it amused me to show off, until the Pupil Support Assistant caught on. I later repeated this trick at high school with ‘Coraline’ and this time it meant I was ahead with the class novel and could contribute to Q-and-A sessions. This showed that I not only could do the work but I understood it as well as my classmates. Apparently one in ten people “suffer” dyslexia and sometimes my peers would try to relate with me when they had this condition. I hate other dyslexic people who assume they have the same level of difficulty as I have. I can’t relate to them but I can relate to those who have never been taught to read or to different language learners.

Falling behind with phonics

All of those beginning phonetic experiences were confusing and I never remember anyone trying to teach me how to read until P4 when it was obvious I was falling behind. I remember Learning Support staff and teachers getting annoyed when I couldn’t blend letters, or get things right consistently, or kept inserting the ‘p’ sound – I could feel their irritation and I wanted it to end. I wondered why they were teaching me and if it was so painful why they didn’t stop. I certainly wouldn’t have minded if they had. I wasn’t ashamed to make mistakes because I felt it was their problem to sort. I was miserable in all of their lessons and began to be unresponsive. Through lack of participation and lots of eye rolling, I made it very clear that I would rather be in class with my friends than in a lesson where I felt I wasn’t learning anything. I thought I was always very discreet in my hatred for the lessons but I now realise that it was probably frustrating for them, especially because they had no understanding of how to teach me. Also, any of the mistakes and difficulties I was having were not recognised and worked on. They were simply ignored. There was just an assumption that eventually I’d learn to read through exposure.

I’m sure if I went back to my primary school all my teachers would expect me to be reading fluently. Now I’m fifteen and have just spent six hours in learning support with someone who reads assignments to me and types my words. Whilst this takes away my independence it doesn’t bother me as much as it would have a couple of years ago.

Things to help me

I have had many different things put in place to work out why I can’t read, to try and help me to read, and now these days, to work round not being able to read. It first started with a trip to the opticians because before I had blue tinted glasses I always looked up from the text because it was giving me a headache. I couldn’t go from line to line and often returned to the same line again and this wasn’t picked up for a while because I couldn’t actually read the words. I’ve been to my GP for a referral for some hearing tests, involved with Dyslexia Scotland, briefly had a private tutor who gave up on me, play and massage therapy, Fridays

with mum who home-schooled me and an auditory processing assessment in a botox lab by a hippy who asked me to remove my shoes and socks.
These days I use an iPad to replace the support assistant and a ‘time out’ card to leave the class to work independently or to avoid the embarrassment of explaining why I can’t do the work.

Technology, in particular my phone, makes me completely independent, in and out of school. I rely on my phone for things that would surprise most people – such as voice notes to communicate with friends, reading slogans on clothes, menus, instructions/ingredients and photo reminders.

The fact that everyone in schools has an iPad and a smart phone means that I don’t stand out anymore. And looking different is starting to bother me less now anyway.
Recently I went from Edinburgh to Stockport, managing a crossover of trains by myself, using a range of websites and apps to read boards and to figure out where the toilets were. I didn’t have to read anything much but I knew that I had the technology to help me if I needed it. I don’t consider that I have a disability because I’ve never had the ability to read so I don’t know what that feels like. And I’m getting by just fine.