CAROLYN FREY

My Literacy Narrative

Thick yellow-tan pages, a hardcover with a colorful picture on the front. Stacks of paper containing a story, some thicker, or taller than others. Some with pictures on the inside others with no visible picture, yet when I listened a picture would form in my head. However, one constant remained on every page of every book; there were black lines, scribbles, and symbols that would rearrange themselves in small groupings. The scribbles would wiggle on the page and rearrange themselves as I was looking at them no matter how small or large the groupings of the symbols were. Two symbols would look the same to me, yet I was told they were different. I loved to hear stories, yet the storytelling device and my brain were at war. The grown-ups called this war dyslexia.

My relationship with reading, writing, spelling, and grammar is complicated. I grew up curling up in bed with my dog, my mom would sit in the adjacent rocking chair, and she would pick up a book off the shelf and read me a story. I loved this and would look forward to it every day. Eventually, the books became thicker and thicker with more intricate plots; so instead of reading a book before bed, she would read a chapter or part of a chapter. The stories made my imagination and creativity come to life, I loved books and the stories they contained. My comprehension skills were very strong and above average for my age, but it was an uphill battle to be able to read on my own.

My teachers and parents tried to help me, but I needed more help than they could provide. I was lucky enough to be remediated at a young age due to my mom noticing the signs of dyslexia. Through experiencing dyslexia with my older sibling, Tracy, and through her research she saw some signs in me. For example, I struggled with speech at a young age especially “OR” sounds. When I became older, I was eager to learn how to read and went to my pre-school and kindergarten teacher every day to work on my letters and sounding out words. However, I had no rapid recall, or working memory, from day to day. Day after day it was as if I hadn’t made any progress from the day before. This was another sign of dyslexia. My mother was very preemptive with identifying dyslexia early and sought out the help I needed proactively.

I went to a Montessori school from 16 months through first grade and this allowed for some flexibility and individualized attention in my education. I was taken out of class and spent part of my day with either a speech therapist or I would go to the Fort Wayne Center for Learning. The Fort Wayne Center for Learning specializes in working with kids to overcome learning obstacles. They used research-based programs to attain the desired result of every child’s individualized educational goal. I went through an intensive learning program with them where I would have a three-hour lesson four days a week. I also visited them multiple days a week during the summer for longer lessons with adequate breaks. The staff was very friendly, patient, and empathetic. They truly cared about my well-being and tried to make what we were doing fun, even though it was challenging.

I am very stubborn and became extremely frustrated with the process of learning. It was exasperating because I was working diligently, but I felt like my actions were fruitless. I often would break down and cry during my lessons or hide under the table because what I was going through seemed inscrutable. Every word, every letter felt like a fight and was exhausting. The same thing occurred with numbers and grammatical symbols as well. It appeared like every aspect of how our society communicates was working against me: letters, symbols, speech, and numbers. I wanted to understand, but my brain wouldn’t let me. It was a long and extremely difficult process that took multiple years.

For example, the letters D and B seemed like the same letter. My brain would confuse words that sounded the same with different spellings. I would think one word and write or say something else. I would know what I wanted to say but I wasn’t able to think of the word I needed to use to make my point. Or I could think of the word but I had no idea how to spell the word or sound it out to be able to try to spell the word even though I could use it in a sentence. Sometimes my brain would go into autopilot and confuse the different types of the word two and there. Or something irregular would occur, like interchanging the words two and tow because they look visually similar and use the same letters, even though the words have no connection in meaning.

The process was undoubtedly a huge investment in time and financially. By the end of the intensive, I was able to read on my own. This meant that I could start having shorter lessons after school of one to two hours. Once I made that enormous achievement, I was ready to move from my private Montessori school – which provided the flexibility in my school day to attend my intensive lessons- to the public school district in which we lived. This brought on its challenges in acclimating to the new structure of learning from a Montessori style to a traditional school setting, assimilating socially, and challenges within the educational structure of the classroom. For example, education within the public school required spelling quizzes, spelling bees, timed writing assignments, assigned readings, timed math quizzes, and more. This style of education focuses on rote memorization and does not consider how a neurodivergent or dyslexic brain functions and learns.

Throughout this whole process, I was still listening to books that were very advanced for my age, but the books I was reading myself were not. This caused a huge gap between what I could handle myself and what I enjoyed. My comprehension skills and vocabulary skills were very advanced, yet my reading level was below average. Eventually, I was able to bridge the gap and could read at my comprehension level. Ultimately, I was able to exceed reading at my comprehension level and use context clues to learn words. I was able to do this by harnessing the skills I had and using them in a way that helped compensate for my weaknesses. However, I still struggle with dyslexia, but I have the tools to manage it. I would not have been able to do this without the help from the Fort Wayne Center for Learning. Dyslexia is not something that you grow out of, or that can be cured, but it is something you can learn tools to aid you to live with it. As my mom says, “It is one weakness within a sea of strengths.”

One of the tools in my toolbox was an Individualized Education Plan. An IEP is a legal document that is developed for each individual student who requires special education. It is collaboratively created by staff, teachers, parents, and administrators. IEPs are used as part of PreK-12 education and disclose the special education services, instructions, and accommodations a student requires to thrive. An IEP changes how someone learns, not what they learn. This document was instrumental in safeguarding my education and gave me a chance to thrive within my environment. Once in college, this document became mute and I had to go about seeking out accommodations under the Americans with Disabilities Act. Having an IEP in public school was one of the bricks that laid the foundation to access accommodations within higher education.

As I became older my reading and writing became stronger; my struggles became less apparent to others because I was using the tools I learned to help me. I was identified as being twice-exceptional. Being twice exceptional means that someone is gifted and has some form of one or more disabilities. Less than one percent of students under 18 within the US are identified as twice-exceptional and at least six percent of students with disabilities are considered to be twice exceptional.

Luckily my school district understood the significance of twice-exceptionality. They understood that giftedness and challenges can be happening at the same. Being a part of one of those groups does not mean that you cannot be a part of both groups. They recognized that giftedness and disability are not mutually exclusive and that one does not cancel out the possibility of the other.

I was placed in the gifted program in elementary school. This program allowed me the opportunity to improve my strengths without the boundary of my challenges. It helped me develop confidence in myself and realize that I wasn’t stupid, but that I just approach things from a different angle.

As I became older, I went on to take advanced, honors, dual credit, and AP classes. They recognized that I needed advanced courses to stimulate my brain, but that I also needed my accommodations. The school district and the accessibility department as a whole both championed that I was twice exceptional. My ability and challenges confused some other students with and without IEPs and several teachers. I felt like I was singled out by other students and teachers because they couldn’t understand how I could be such an advanced student and yet have a learning disability. It felt like I had a foot in both camps, which in some ways I did. But yet I am one person with a whole body; why shouldn’t I be allowed to be in both groups at once? This especially happened when I would leave the classroom to take my tests in the testing center for students with IEPs. The students within my class didn’t understand why I would leave, and then the students in the testing center wouldn’t understand why I was there. As well some of the staff within the resource room and testing center were amazed that someone taking the classes I was, was there.

I constantly had to prove that I still had a learning disability by demonstrating I was using my accommodation and that I wasn’t cheating because I had them. And I constantly had to prove I was good enough to be in the classes I was enrolled in. This caused a weird dichotomy because I was performing well in my classes, and yet I still felt the effects of dyslexia. Eventually, I learned not to care what other people thought about me and that I can prove them wrong.

Not only have I learned to live with dyslexia, but I’ve also been able to overcome the daily obstacles and not let them hold me back. I am eternally grateful to my parents and the Fort Wayne Center for Learning. Without their help, I would not be where I am today and would not have finished within the top 10% of my high school class of over 500 students, taken the classes I did, or be in the place I am in college. Coincidentally, I am now one of the learning center’s success stories and was used in promotional materials for several years. Dyslexia isn’t something you grow out of, or that goes away. You can, however, learn to use tools and your skills to help you live with it. I was fortunate enough to get the help I needed at a young age and that has forever changed my life. My relationship with literacy is complicated yet ended up being a happy ending. Everyone has weaknesses and strengths, and Dyslexia is just one of my weaknesses within a sea of strengths.