My youngest son, now 23 is dyslexic. His isn't the traditional issue of reversing letters (think of the jokes about dogs and gods) or transposition (pod and bod), but something called "sound symbol recognition." For the most part, readers don't sound out the words they see, they know them, having learned hundreds of sight words along the path to fluent reading. For most readers, acquiring a new sight word takes a few repetitions. The more complex the word, the more repetitions, but we get it after a few repeats, certainly less than a dozen or so. My poor son, on the other hand can take 50 or more repetitions for each sight word. His learning disability was once described in terms of running a road race, except on a stationary treadmill. You are running just as hard as the other runners, but you may never make it to the finish line.
Although my son was identified as having a learning issue in nursery school, his wonderful parents didn't believe it was a significant problem until he was in 2nd grade when he was tested for the first time. And thus began the rounds of in school and out of school therapies. We tried many methods, and IEPs, and accommodations, until finally we were directed to T. The hours with T weren't easy, and in order to make it work, tutoring had to be 2-4 days a week. A large burden for a small child. My son never really liked the sessions, although he tolerated them, mostly. Only occasionally would he rebel, throw a temper tantrum, and storm out of a session. But T persevered, through set backs and rages, and together T and my son worked there way through the series of books called the Wilson Reading Program and out the other side. I still remember 7th grade, and the day he first picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, a book that his entire school (The Lab School of Washington) was reading in one way or another, and read for pleasure.
Since that first day with Harry Potter, my son has read fantasy and adventure, branching into Clive Cussler and other authors occasionally, but coming back to one of his favorites, R. A. Salvatore, any time a new book is published. But what he reads for pleasure isn't what is important. It is the fact that he reads, and enjoys reading. For that, in no small part, I must thank T.
I was in the library recently, using it as an extension of my office to get some work done. I was sitting around the corner from a desk where a tutor was working with a young boy, 7 or 8. I listened to the instructions and sophisticated language of the tutor as she taught the child about phonemes and the formation of sounds in the mouth, and heard once again the delicately accented English of my son's former tutor. At first I could not believe that after 12 years, I would run into T in this fashion, but sure enough, when I stood and looked around the corner, I recognized her, and she me. She sent regards to my son, and was delighted to here of his current activities, a junior studying fashion design in New York, and sent her regards. I, in turn, told her that she deserved much of the credit for the fact that my son now reads for pleasure. I am not sure she was convinced, but she accepted the compliment anyway.
But I think now, as I thought then, that my son enjoys reading today for two reasons, T and the hard work they did together, and J.K. Rowling. Thank you both!
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