"Why can't I read like the other kids?” 8-year-old Girard thought to himself as he sat in class. The sun was shining in through the classroom windows, creating a shadow from the paper pumpkins on the window the other kids had made. Just like the shadow of the pumpkin, Girard's life was shadowed by the other students’ performance. His own growth was not being considered but was being compared to the performance of his fellow students.
Girard sat in class listening to the teacher, drifting off into his own world, then back again to what the teacher was saying. This was one of his favorite times of the day. There was no reading out loud, no being called upon to answer questions and no tests. He was not being told to try harder, when he was already trying so hard to do his work like the other kids. His parents and teachers would ask him, "What is wrong with you? Why can't you do the work like the other kids?” He truly did not know why and he wished he did. He wished, too, he could make it all go away. Most of all, he wanted that feeling to go away in his stomach.
The feeling was so strong it made him sick sometimes, coming upon him when he felt so bad for not being able to read like his older sisters and classmates could at his age. The feeling would hit him when the kids would tease him on the playground for reading aloud so slowly in class, stumbling over every word, his hands sweating as he tightly held the book, trying to sound out the words, as laughter rose from the classroom. "Why me?” he would think. His mom would also ask many times, “Why me? Why do I have to deal with this, a child that can not read?”
Girard had very few things left in his day that he enjoyed. Most of them had been taken away until he was able to read better. So recess, with the sun shining in on him, was all he had left. This was the only place that he could feel safe from the outside world. Girard lived in a world of pictures and although he could make outstanding creations with his Lego, he could not put three letters together correctly, three times in a row. He could put everyone’s toys together without reading a word of the directions, but could not put the months of the year in order. Why could he do something so easily that was so difficult for others? Why was reading and writing so hard for him and, yet, so simple for others?
Girard looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost recess time. He had once loved this time of day, running in the schoolyard, but now, it was not for him. He had to stay in and work on his reading. He could see the other kids playing outside as he worked on his word lists. Maybe this all happened because of something he had said to his mom, or maybe he was being punished for hitting his older sister? Whatever it was, the punishment was hard, not being able to read. Girard sat, head lowered to the desk, looking down as the bell rang, not wanting to watch the kids run out to recess, not wanting to see what he was missing. His eyes filled with tears, but he did not show it. The room soon emptied and he was left alone with the student teacher. She was new. She, too, would soon ask him why he could not learn and what was wrong with him. She too would soon take something away he enjoyed doing. She, too, would soon quit on him and pass him on to the next teacher like a bag of hand-me-down clothing he had gotten from his cousins.
You see, I know Girard very well. I'm him and I have dyslexia. It was not detected right away and all these things and more did happen to me. I now write about them to offer help to every parent who has a child like me. Please know you cannot push a child to do something they cannot remedy or control. Please don't take hope away from them. 10% of school children have a learning disability but few of them or their parents know. Most school systems do not test for dyslexia or know how to help. If the student in this story sounds like someone you know, please get help. I have a web page listed that is committed to helping and have also written a book on the topic...
Girard Sagmiller
2000
