I am a Special Education Teacher. How I got here is a story of itself. However, it is not the one I am telling today. Today, is a story of thanksgiving. Thanksgiving to earthly and Heavenly Parents.
The Boy at School
I have a new student. I have been working with him for almost a month now. With a huge sigh of irritation I will tell you he is a handful. He is the youngest of our boys. He is according to assessments very low academically. He is regularly moving. He yells. He threatens. He makes noises. He tries hard. He is creative. He works through the problems with determination.
Yesterday I found myself wanting to cry. I was sitting across a small table. I was reading math problems to him. He struggles with reading. The letters get all mixed up. The words get all out of order. I found myself humbled by his level of effort. Not only his effort, but also his method of elimination, and of trail and error.
We moved on to completing an assignment about himself. Raise your hand if you would think to make a "D" into a bow with an arrow? And then to make the following letter is target? Could you spell "Rootee", "Jorgj", and "Rawde"? His spelling skills indicate a knowledge of basic letter sound correlation. If those English people would only have one spelling pattern for sounds like /aw/ and /ee/. And cast out those unstressed vowel sounds... It is at this point I am all for using Spanish. It is way easier to spell. Add they have a much higher percentage of decodable words.
As I was wanting to cry I remember thinking, "How frustrating it must be to be so stuck in his brain without a way to get it all out."
Additional Insights
A couple of months ago I went to a presentation by Ron. D Davis. He is a gentleman who has struggle with profound dyslexia for his whole life. He told us his story. It was amazing. Apparently it is in a book he wrote, The Gift of Dyslexia. I have been thinking a lot about his presentation and finally requested the audio book from the Library.
I have told people I have a mild dyslexia. I have a friend who wants to tell you it is a visual processing disorder. Those who know more about how computers of the brain works might appreciate this statement more. It is a statement I have made more than once.
If you really thought about the effort it takes to read, you wouldn't do it.
Recently my mom gave me a large zip-lock bag with a hanging file of stuff in it. The papers included some of my early special education paper work. The information may not mean much to those outside to jargon of Special Ed. However... the numbers tell me I had a profound reading disorder. I can say, "Hurray for Special Education!"
The Book of Mormon
More than once, in public and private settings, I have praised the power of The Book of Mormon, and a Bishop. When I was 11 or 12 I met with a young Bishop. He asked mee if I was reading The Book of Mormon. I remember telling him it was too hard and confusing. He challenged mee to pray. Take the matter to the Lord and ask for His help.
I did so. It took mee at least two years the first time, but I made it through. I then participated in challenges in Seminary to read it in various lengths of time. The shortest time frame was one month. I took the challenge. Twenty pages a day. I did it!!
I was struggling through a law class in graduate school. Another church leader talked about a situation he had been in when he was in graduate school. He learned to begin his study session with prayer and reading from The Book of Mormon. It helped mee too.
Today
As I woke up this morning I was thinking of my young man at school. I was trying to decide if I had the energy to work with him. I thought of the frustration he feels not being able to express himself as most of the people around him.
Then, I remembered feeling that way. Feeling like a distant island with a gulf separating mee from everything else going on. Yelling at my parents that they didn't understand mee. Learning to fear any attempt of explaining my thoughts because I couldn't do it fast enough. Or with the ease everyone else had.
Then a thought came to mee: You still would if your Dad hadn't read to you everyday.
This morning I learned my dad was and instrument in the hands of the Lord in developing my ability to read. Yes. I put forth a lot of effort in reading too. I have a basic working knowledge of Learning Disabilities and Reading education. My efforts to read were magnified. They were magnified by the grace of God. They were further in enhanced my having heard The Book of Mormon, many, many times.
I don't recall when it started. I remember it all though middle and high school. My dad read to us from The Book of Mormon every week day. And probably Sundays too.
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