Post by Hannah on Dec 7, 2004 4:14:51 GMT -5
This is my story...
When most people see me, they see a person like anyone else. When I tell people I am learning disabled, they still to this day respond by saying, "No, you're not!" Just because I'm driven, because I'm smart, doesn't mean I don't struggle.
But because I'm learning disabled, I have struggled to do many things that are second nature to the rest of the world. I can't "work through it," because my brain doesn't work the way it's supposed to. I can't fix it by working harder, and it won't ever go away. I can't get rid of it anymore than I could regrow a limb. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean that I don't have to work many times harder than most people, even at the things I do well. What I have done is learn to cope, to use writing and my other strengths to get me through, and to work as hard as I can.
I'm told by my family that i didn't sit up, crawl or walk until shortly before I turned one. In preschool, I had a paralyzing fear of being on my back, because I literally saw the world differently than other kids. One of my earliest memories is of trying to out on my socks the wrong way (something I did on a regular basis) and my poor frustrated Dad sighed, "why can't you do things the way other kids do them?"
It was hard for me to avoid running into doors and walls, because I couldn't seem to navigate around them, and because I couldn't judge distances.
In first grade, my real struggles with math started. I rmember dropping my pencil on purpose, again and again, staring at the rows of meaningless numbers. The school year passed by and my mom spent the summer trying to help me learn to count and add. Our sessions were often reduced to screaming matches when no one seemed to be able to help me. I remember being so frustrated at times I would yell that I wished I had never been born. I hid from telling my friends I couldn't ride a bike because I didn't want to be different. All I wanted was to be like other kids.
In second grade I am told that my parents brought me to Washburn Guidance Center for testing. All I remember is a little waiting room, and a teacher who asked me questions and sometimes wanted to know if I was ready for a a break. What no one told at the time was that my test scores had not come out well. My scores were so low in math and spatial reasoning that some of the records say i was at the level of "below five years of age." Not only did I have a learning disability in math, but I also turned out to have a mysterious visual-spatial problem that was affecting my coordination, balance, and motor skills. (Basically my brain has trouble processing visual information- I can see OK but my perceptual skills are off.) That was the meeting when they told my parents to buy me a calculator because I would never learn to do basic math. My one salvation was that my scores in reading, vocabulary and vocabulary were
For me though, my parents kept searching and fighting until I was finally put in special ed. They kept fighting for me, even when people told them to give up, for which I'm eternally grateful. For the next 6 years, I went to a tutor on Saturday mornings while my brother watched cartoons in the livingroom, and my neighborhood friends played without me. I remember crying in the car until I made myself sick because I dreaded that one hour a week.
In third grade though, I also discovered writing. I reveled in telling stories and describing richly decorated imaginary houses for my family. I also read, and read, and read. Writing in particular though, gave me something to hope for, to repair my shattered sense of self.
Gradually, I was able with much help to catch up to grade level in some respects, although at 18 I still tested at the 5th grade level in math skills. I remember sneaking away from my friends in junior high because I didn't want to tell them that I had to go to extra math classes and Adapted Phys Ed. I was in 9th grade before I told most of my friends, and I could finally start talking about being different.
Anyway this was long but I hope that someone reads it and will think twice about assuming they know what people have been through.
When most people see me, they see a person like anyone else. When I tell people I am learning disabled, they still to this day respond by saying, "No, you're not!" Just because I'm driven, because I'm smart, doesn't mean I don't struggle.
But because I'm learning disabled, I have struggled to do many things that are second nature to the rest of the world. I can't "work through it," because my brain doesn't work the way it's supposed to. I can't fix it by working harder, and it won't ever go away. I can't get rid of it anymore than I could regrow a limb. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean that I don't have to work many times harder than most people, even at the things I do well. What I have done is learn to cope, to use writing and my other strengths to get me through, and to work as hard as I can.
I'm told by my family that i didn't sit up, crawl or walk until shortly before I turned one. In preschool, I had a paralyzing fear of being on my back, because I literally saw the world differently than other kids. One of my earliest memories is of trying to out on my socks the wrong way (something I did on a regular basis) and my poor frustrated Dad sighed, "why can't you do things the way other kids do them?"
It was hard for me to avoid running into doors and walls, because I couldn't seem to navigate around them, and because I couldn't judge distances.
In first grade, my real struggles with math started. I rmember dropping my pencil on purpose, again and again, staring at the rows of meaningless numbers. The school year passed by and my mom spent the summer trying to help me learn to count and add. Our sessions were often reduced to screaming matches when no one seemed to be able to help me. I remember being so frustrated at times I would yell that I wished I had never been born. I hid from telling my friends I couldn't ride a bike because I didn't want to be different. All I wanted was to be like other kids.
In second grade I am told that my parents brought me to Washburn Guidance Center for testing. All I remember is a little waiting room, and a teacher who asked me questions and sometimes wanted to know if I was ready for a a break. What no one told at the time was that my test scores had not come out well. My scores were so low in math and spatial reasoning that some of the records say i was at the level of "below five years of age." Not only did I have a learning disability in math, but I also turned out to have a mysterious visual-spatial problem that was affecting my coordination, balance, and motor skills. (Basically my brain has trouble processing visual information- I can see OK but my perceptual skills are off.) That was the meeting when they told my parents to buy me a calculator because I would never learn to do basic math. My one salvation was that my scores in reading, vocabulary and vocabulary were
For me though, my parents kept searching and fighting until I was finally put in special ed. They kept fighting for me, even when people told them to give up, for which I'm eternally grateful. For the next 6 years, I went to a tutor on Saturday mornings while my brother watched cartoons in the livingroom, and my neighborhood friends played without me. I remember crying in the car until I made myself sick because I dreaded that one hour a week.
In third grade though, I also discovered writing. I reveled in telling stories and describing richly decorated imaginary houses for my family. I also read, and read, and read. Writing in particular though, gave me something to hope for, to repair my shattered sense of self.
Gradually, I was able with much help to catch up to grade level in some respects, although at 18 I still tested at the 5th grade level in math skills. I remember sneaking away from my friends in junior high because I didn't want to tell them that I had to go to extra math classes and Adapted Phys Ed. I was in 9th grade before I told most of my friends, and I could finally start talking about being different.
Anyway this was long but I hope that someone reads it and will think twice about assuming they know what people have been through.
