On Gratitude and Dyslexic Role Models

In this, National Gratitude Month, I take a moment to reflect on the long journey into what I call DyslexiaLand, and give thanks to the lessons I’ve learned from my dyslexic son along the way, and the blessings I have received.

From the first moment I learned that his longstanding school struggles were due to dyslexia—far more specific than the Specific Learning Disability that educators called it—I spent hours of research every day.

And I just couldn’t seem to keep myself from probably over-sharing that information with the teenager who would rather not have heard it. Even as I realized I drove him crazy, the words popped out;  I just felt compelled to share empowering words in the teachable moment.

When the television news came on: “Oh, honey, did you know that Anderson Cooper is dyslexic?”

“Yes, mom, you told me that before,” he rolled his eyes.

When the radio played “Imagine.” I didn’t even have to say it.

“I know, John Lennon was dyslexic,” he said, mimicking my voice.

When we received a postcard from a friend traveling in Barcelona: “Oh, look, she’s at the Segrada Familia, such imagination turned into reality. You know, the architect Gaudi was dyslexic.”

“Mommmmmmmm,” he walked out of the room.

All those role models, all those success stories; I offered them up to help shore his confidence, restore his spirit and help him know that plenty of other individuals with dyslexia succeeded in having very productive and creative lives.

I wanted him to know that he would, too.

Then I worried: Maybe I was putting too much pressure on him, making him feel like I expected him to become rich and famous, like the select dyslexics who tell their stories of triumph and accomplishment.

I just wanted to teach him he has value if he could just get through the bureaucratic maze of public education that pretty much told him he doesn’t. I hoped I was doing the right thing. I guessed I’d find out.

And then I did.

Fast forward a couple of years: My son, who took a gap year after graduation and gradually began taking classes at the local community college, suddenly got excited about exploring subjects he likes: Meterology, Marketing, Communications. One of his essays was selected for publication in the college’s annual anthology of outstanding student work.

Early in the semester he brought home a student from one of his classes.

“Mom, meet Hannah. I told her all about you and how you know everything about dyslexia. She has it, too, and maybe you can help her understand it, like you helped me. Like tell her all about all the famous dyslexic people you were always telling me about.”

If I had a microphone, I would drop it. My dyslexia awareness work, at least for him, was done. Well, if not done, certainly validated. And I couldn’t be more grateful.

As the student becomes the teacher, we make progress. Together.

And blessings abound.