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The Little Girl with Dyslexia [1]
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Date: 2022-08-02
Here is a biographical poem based upon bits and pieces told to me by a woman who has lived with dyslexia for decades. It is just tiny part of her story, of course, but I think those who have dyslexia will recognize themselves...
The Little Girl with Dyslexia
Once there was a little girl starting school
She had dyslexia
She did not know she had dyslexia
Her parents did not know
Her teacher did not know
The school did not know
Doctors did not know
(Because no one knew to look for it).
And even though the little girl
Was very smart,
Having dyslexia meant
That the alphabet was a strange puzzle for her
Where "a's" were sometimes "c's"
And "s's" were sometimes "z's" and so on
And spelling, in general, was like entering a maze
Where words were always different.
Not knowing about dyslexia,
Her teacher taught the little girl
As you would someone
Who could distinguish letters easily,
Which was the wrong way to teach
In this case, with the results being
Of a confused little girl
And a frustrated teacher,
"Why can't she learn, the way I am showing her?
"It's so simple," thought the teacher,
But the ABC's
Which can look like DHB's or AJZ's
To the little girl
Was not simple
(Nor would it be for anyone
Who had dyslexia).
So the teacher gave up and decided the little girl
Was not very bright and labeled her
"Retarded!"
Retarded is not a word we use today,
But long ago this word was used a lot.
For two months, the little girl was made to go
To a "Special School" for slow children
Where everything her
Special School teacher asked her to do
Was so easy, she could not understand
Why she was there,
Remember she was very smart.
Although all the other kids,
Except one boy who seemed smart like her,
Had trouble doing the lessons
And were well, slow,
The little girl tried to fit in,
But it was boring in class
And she was unhappy.
Luckily, one day,
A not very good teacher
Supervising the Special School's playground
At recess time,
Changed everything
Here is what happened,
Because she could,
The teacher told the little girl
To sit down in the dirt,
But the little girl refused to obey,
She saw no reason why she had to sit down
During playtime,
Beside the little girl was wearing a new dress
And she knew that her mother would be mad
If she got the dress dirty
So it could not be worn again the next day,
She could picture in her head
Her mother having to wash the dress
In the old washing tub
Which the little girl knew
Was hard work for her mother.
(It would be another year before her family
Got an actual washing machine
For remember, this was long ago.)
So the little girl would not sit in the dirt
And this made the teacher mad
And she grabbed the little girl
By one ear
And pulled her down,
And now comes the lucky part,
The principal of the school,
A black woman,
Saw what happened
And rescued the little girl
And after talking to the little girl
Soon realized the she was actually very bright,
And the very next day the little girl
Was back in the regular school.
Eventually, the little girl
Taught herself how to read and write
Though spelling continued to be a problem,
As she got older and had to write essays,
She would get "A's" for content and ideas,
But "F's" for spelling and grammar.
One year, she really worked hard on an assignment
Writing it over and over to correct any possible mistakes
And she ended up being accused of cheating!
Because it was so good,
Her teacher, a nun, could not believe
The little girl had written it herself.
But this unfairness did not deter
The little girl,
She adapted and survived,
And continued to get an education
Her dyslexia would not stop the little girl,
She developed special methods to compensate
For the way her brain worked,
Eventually, the little girl became a nurse,
Where she used hidden tricks
Like carrying a pen covered in white tape
With the alphabet written on it,
This was her secret tool to guide her
When she needed to file charts or other documents.
She took detailed notes when learning
A new piece of equipment or procedure,
Then used these written details to practice
Over and over
Until she could manage without the notes
Although she kept them in her purse,
She wore a bracelet on her left wrist
To remind which was her left and which was her right,
A useful distinction, when listening to the heart...
The funny thing about dyslexia
Is that it never wears off
Nor is there a cure
You can only compensate or manage it.
When computers came along,
What seems intuitive to you and me
Like "Cut and Paste"
Was not intuitive for her at all,
But a challenge,
Still she adapted
And learned to use the computer,
And the same was true for her smart phone.
Adapt and survive:
Each of us, I suspect,
Has an "invisible" challenge
In our lives
To which we must adapt
And then adapt again,
And this may make us look strange
Or odd at certain times to others,
And hence require a dollop of understanding
And tolerance
From everyone else.
Someday,
If love guides us,
The invisible differences
And the not so invisible differences
Between each of us all
Will become recognized
For what they are -
Treasured gifts.
PS. Here is a bit of dyslexic escapism...
One time, the little girl was asked to stand up
In class and recite the ABC's and she was trapped
And had to think quickly:
She started out with "A, B, C, D, Ng, Ymk, Rz, Kuo,"
When the teacher shouted, "What are you doing?"
"I'm saying it in Russian," the little girl replied.
The whole class, including the teacher,
Burst out laughing
And the little girl quickly sat back down
Before the laughter faded.
Carl Scott Harker ©2022
__________________________________________
My latest book of poetry is now available on Amazon, you can find it here: Lyrics Looking for a Musician.
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