Its not easy having Dyslexia, spelling the word is hard enough, it does come with gifts however. Reading, sadly, is not one of those gifts. In fact at the age of 12 I had to completely restart my learning. I remember tracing my pencil around dots that formed the individual letters of the alphabet. I had a reading age of 6 when I was 14. So recently completing a 760 odd page book was a massive achievement for me.
When the rest of my class were fluent in decoding the strings of shapes embedded on paper that had been bound together to form a book. I was still, and to a certain extent I still am, learning my alphabet and learning dot to dot. At about the same age there was a big meeting, well I say big it was my tutor, my SEND teacher, deputy head and mum. During which my mother was told there was no way I would pass my GCSEs and should concentrate on a more vocational route to employmemt.
By this point I had met with an Educational Psychologist and been diagnoised for around 6 years. My parents, with this information and resources, had placed me in a small private school set within a quiet hill side village. Very English, cricket club, rugby club, beautiful church and a vista to die for. None the less, they told my mother, a teacher of English at a local state funded school, that I would not gain my GCSEs.
My mother flashed her famous temper, the school agreed to persist with me. They actually did more than just enter me, alot more! They provided me with a short, well built red noised terrior of a lady, a true force of mature. A cocktailed smell of tic tacs, coffee and ciggeretts followed her around.
We will call this woman Miss A. Our sessions would take place in, what I can only discribe as a cell. Situated at the top of a 1970s block constructed out of concrete and breeze blocks. When the sun shone through the window, we would sweat, when it snowed we would wear coats and gloves and when it rained we would put pots out.
Miss A built me from the ground up. She started with the very essentials and worked tirelessly to ensure I had the foundations to build a life upon. Because of what was taught in that room was more than just reading and writing skills but life skills.
Life skills like time management, organisation and argument building. When you’re dyslexic sometimes it can be infuriating, you know the answer, you’re verbally intelligent however because of something beyond your comtrol you cant get it on paper. Because you cant, you’re labelled, labelled as unintelligent. How frustrating is that!
It gets to you, you loose yourself and start to believe what others say about you. But Miss A, Miss A would not let that happen for very long. This teacher, this strong stout woman would pull you up by the scruff of your neck, her blood shot eyes staring in to yours and tell you seven simple yet devestating words “you’re better than you know you are”.
It does not sound like much, its no Jim Telfer speech (click here) but for me that was like spinach to Popeye. Once, when a teacher put me up against a wall, while poking me in my chest and spitting all over my face his coffee breath still fresh in my mind, and told me “you will make nothing of yourself Laurence”. Well Mrs A went on a war path only Rambo would have dreamt about. First she destroyed the teacher, of very high standing, in the staff room. Then she came for me, red faced, eyes poping out of her head and a march you see on movies.
She told me this simple message “Dont you ever, EVER! let another person tell you your not good enough. You didnt even say anthing back Laurence. Where is your fight!! You never again sit there quietly and let someone say that about you. You stand up for yourself or I cant help you anymore!”
Well…I was never quiet at school again. I focused not on getting my GCSEs but on proving that stale breathed teacher wrong. I did do that, I got my GCSEs, my A-levels and a degree. I am currently undergoing a Masters and I have carved a career teaching young people who have challenged education.
I’ve never given up that fight, I fight for the young people I work with. I fight just like Miss A did. I dont give up. So when people ask what my ‘why’ is I simply say “I had every advantage in the world, yet people still gave up on me including myself. Except for 5 people, my family and Mrs A. I got my GCSEs and my life because of these people. Now, imagine if you dont have these advantages. Imagine everyone giving up on you. This is why I do what I do. Because some of these young people have no one in their corner fighting for them, being there crutch when they need it. This is why”.
So my advice to anyone with Dyslexia is clear, dont give up on yourself, work with the great gifts it gives you, and fight for everything you want to achieve.