DyslexiaLand: Lessons Learned Every Day, Everywhere

I spent a beautiful Saturday last weekend seated at a table in a community center, attending a book marketing workshop with three experts and a couple of dozen other authors. They shared lots of information about proven promotional strategies that don’t come naturally to me.  I took good notes, and promised myself to do better at getting the word out about my new book, “DyslexiaLand: A Field Guide for Parents of Children with Dyslexia.”

.During the time set aside to share our publications and expertise, I described my book and related dyslexia advocacy work. The marketing experts encouraged me to write more blog posts and suggested that I create a campaign tailored to sell books to the educational establishment.  “The schools aren’t doing a good job addressing dyslexia; they won’t like my book.” I said. “My book is written to help parents understand dyslexia, to support the unique strengths of their dyslexic children and   to help them get appropriate academic instruction, in school or in the community.”

One of the presenters noted, “Oh, yes, I see that right on the cover, the book is for parents.” The experts exchanged skeptical-looking glances and quickly moved on to the next person. From a marketing point of view, I imagine they were thinking that by focusing on parents, I had foolishly eliminated a huge number of potential purchasers with deep pockets.

As a professional journalist, a parent-turned-dyslexia advocate—by necessity, not by choice—first for my own son, then for other children and their families, and eventually a dyslexia consultant for the local school district, I know better than the experts. Parents need to know what the educational establishment won’t tell them—but I can, and do. I wrote the book I wish I’d had to guide me through my dyslexic son’s long and often confusing 13 years of public schooling.

As we were all packing up at the end of the day, three workshop attendees approached me. One, a mother, grabbed my hand and said, “Thank you for writing this book. I wish I’d had it when my son was young; now he’s in his thirties. He has dyslexia, and school was such a major struggle back then. I can’t believe it still is.”  We exchanged contact information and hugged our good-byes.

The next in line was a young woman, the assistant to the marketing expert who had prepared the visually complex PowerPoint presentation. “I have ADD and some issues with auditory processing,” she said, “so I understand there is a lot of need for a book like this.” She paused as the third woman stepped forward, “I have dyslexia,” she said, “and so does my husband.” She began detailing her difficulties with reading, her successful career as a filmmaker, and how directions and letter reversals have posed such a challenge to her throughout her life.

A look of recognition came across the young woman’s face. “Wait a minute,” she said, “I can’t tell right from left, and I always mix up b and d, and I get lost all the time.”

“Oh, yes, that’s rather typical of individuals with dyslexia,” I said.

And then the three of us got into an animated discussion about so many of the issues: test anxiety, needing more time to complete assignments, challenges with spelling, rhyming and taking notes, even the crossover skills like tying shoes.

“Wait a minute,” said the young woman. “I wore Velcro-fastening shoes forever because I had a terrible time learning to tie my shoes. And I worked harder than all my friends in college, and still didn’t get very great grades.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “You mean I’m dyslexic? Is that the explanation?”

“Well, it’s interesting that you’re highly visual, and you’re a great communicator,” I said. “And dyslexia is frequently mis-identified as ADD, especially among students who work really hard. Steven Spielberg, for example, didn’t learn he has dyslexia until he was in his sixties.”

We talked for another half an hour, the reality began to sink in: Dyslexia has been a significant issue in our schools for far too long. And it still is. Mothers struggle to get help for their dyslexic children, schools resist with all their power. And even though dyslexia affects 1 in 5 individuals—and educational approaches to it are well-known—there is a collective refusal in the educational community to address it.

And sometimes the best lessons are learned out of class.