The Dyslexia Project
a 501 (c)(3)
Federal ID #83-1968155

Author: Lisa

  • The Incredible Loneliness of the Dyslexia Mom…But You Are Not Alone

    By Cheri Rae

    This afternoon, I placed my lunch order for a Cobb salad at my favorite sandwich shop.

    While I waited for it, Florence and the Machine’s “Dog Days are Over” blasted over the sound system. Hearing the catchy, upbeat tune, the first thing that popped into my mind was, “Oh, yes, Florence Welsh is dyslexic.” The next thing that popped into my mind, as I kept time and watched the staff bop along to the song was, “I bet I am the only one in here who knows that.”

    And then I thought about all the other stuff I know about dyslexia that sticks in my head and comes out in the most unexpected times and ways. When my dad and I watched “Patton” I told him that the famed general was dyslexic. When my friend posted her admiration of Antonio Gaudi, I mentioned that the brilliant artist/architect was dyslexic. When I spoke with the executive director of an education nonprofit, I confirmed that a local philanthropist is dyslexic.

    This arcane knowledge just sticks in my head and pops up when least expected. But this kind of depth about dyslexia, after so many years as a determined advocate, goes far beyond identifying famous dyslexics. It extends to approaches to reading, local and national literacy statistics, frustration over the lack of institutional change over time, the concept of literacy as a civil right and an issue of equity, the articles, charts, research, videos and books that best explain various aspects of what can be done to improve the lives of dyslexics.

    Like so many parent-advocates, I’ve endured the eye-rolls from educators who make comments like “I’ve never had a student with dyslexia, so you’ll have to give me some information.” I’ve had a superintendent tell me, “Students with dyslexia just have to learn how to suck it up.” And I’ve even had friends who have questioned accommodations, asking, “Don’t you think it’s unfair that your son gets more time, and my son doesn’t?” 

    I’ve learned all about special education and IEPs, and worked hard to get exactly the right wording, the right goals in place, only to have the document ignored by classroom teachers. And my son rebel against having anything to do with special education.

    I’ve attended school board meetings where parents weep as they beg for help for their dyslexic children but after their three minutes are simply dismissed by stone-faced trustees who don’t bother to comment or follow-up. Or learn what they could do to stop the educational struggles of kids in their care. I’ve read the campaign literature that touts the transparency and communication skills of those same trustees running for re-election. So they can continue their same ways for another term and never make any meaningful progress.

    It makes me want to scream out the truth, but no one wants to listen to that.

    We have to be careful, civil, mask our anger with reasonableness, forgo our humiliations, and go along and get along or they won’t listen. But when we are patient and collaborative, they don’t listen to that, either.

    My inbox, phone records and daily journals reflect that I am not alone. Every week, I hear from parents who are stymied by the educational system, feeling so very alone in their journey to understand the numerous complex issues associated with dyslexia, and frankly, in fear for the futures of their children. I share my experiences, provide insights when I can, offer support and a sympathetic ear. I even wrote a book to help other parents.

    We moms of children with dyslexia seek out support anywhere we can. Since the school districts know there is strength in numbers, they work hard to keep us apart, citing confidentiality concerns. But the kids all know who is struggling and who isn’t.

    On social media, we connect with literal strangers far, far away who often understand our concerns better than our real-life friends and members of our own families. We don’t want to talk about dyslexia all the time, but quite honestly, it’s often the most important issue going on in our lives, and we need to unburden our hearts, express our concerns, vent our frustrations at the hands of the education establishment. But even social media has been taken over by groups with agendas not apparent to most who participate. And while social media may connect like-minded people in the virtual world, it’s not likely to have much effect on making much institutional change in our local schools.

    Individually, we seek solace in learning everything we possibly can about supporting dyslexic strengths; all those inspirational success stories about dyslexics who have “made it,” and buy into the notion of dyslexic superpowers. In doing so, we worry if we’re putting too much pressure on our kids, who maybe don’t want to claim superpowers, they just want to be considered typical kids who can just enjoy their childhoods, their classroom experiences and their day-to-day lives.

    My parenting mantra has always been “roots and wings.” Providing that supportive platform for all our kids, including those with dyslexia, so they can fly on their own. I admit to getting a bit research-obsessed about dyslexia, but now that my dyslexic son is an adult, and flying strong and secure on his own ~ after the trials and tribulations of public school ~ I want to offer a little support to those parents on the journey: Go ahead and learn all you can and do all you can about dyslexia, protect your child’s well-being from bureaucratic excesses and know that they will be okay because you are there, a loving, supportive and knowledgeable parent. 

    Yes, it is lonely along the way. But reach out in your community where you find it ~ or create your own. And dance to the music when you hear it. Because, even when you least expect it, it’s there.

  • Coffee, Talk and Tears: On Meeting with Mothers of Dyslexic Children

    Worried mothers contact me by phone, email and social media; they introduce themselves and launch into vivid descriptions of how they are struggling with the Education Establishment as they to find help for their bright dyslexic children who are struggling to read, write and spell. They typically have been very resourceful at finding the limited number of affordable services children in our community—but are flummoxed when their children age out and there is no more help available.

    They need direction, reassurance and conversation about dyslexia—which pretty much no one wants to talk about, particularly those in the education community.   Those who live near me often ask to meet for coffee.

    I can’t say no.

    It’s not my job, but it’s become my calling. I was once in their place of confusion, seeking insight and assistance. I was lucky to find the kind of support they need it in the form of a very wise and now-retired advocate who ran a local dyslexia non-profit—so now it’s up to me to pay it forward.

    We share an immediate bond, as mothers united in a cause—some would call it a crusade—just to obtain an appropriate education for our children, without subjecting them to the emotional damage that’s all too real for far too many. It is lonely and heartbreaking to mother a smart child who is working too hard in school with too little results—with few easy answers and more mystery than mastery for a long, long time.

    We usually meet for a couple of hours—always more time than we intended—in coffeehouses all over town.  It’s not the caffeine that gives me the jitters that this familiar angst about school is felt so widely, so deeply, and for so long. It’s just that it never, ever ends—not for generations of mothers who have come up against the dyslexia-denying culture in our public schools.

    We share stories about how we stay up late into the night searching the internet for a miraculous revelation that changes everything; we agonize about where to find thousands of dollars to pay for private tutoring to make up what the school won’t do; we are terrified about what the future holds for our children. We pore over statistics about how third-grade reading levels determining the number of prison beds needed; of high levels of anxiety among struggling readers; of dyslexic misspellings in suicide notes. We admit that in those dark hours we weep alone.

    Our sense of familiarity emboldens us to speak of our deep fears we dare not say to others who do not understand. We are part of a sorority that simply knows the spirit of our children, their great potential and their strong desire to succeed. We know the heartbreak, how the magic of childhood ended for our little ones when the misery of school began.  In the warm comfort of camaraderie over coffee, we weep together.

    The mothers I’ve recently met with comprise a range of the dyslexia experience:

    • The 3rd grader whose teacher thinks he has ADD, and suggests the mother get him on medication. He’s been privately assessed, and he doesn’t; he’s simply not engaged in the reading program that is inappropriate for his dyslexic needs.
    • The 4th grader who attends a private school and works with an educational therapist to great result, but it’s costing the family a small fortune to pay for the tuition and supplementary specialized instruction—and Dad is getting nervous about whether or not the investment is worth it.
    • The 6th grader who was warehoused in special education class for four hours a day for an entire school year without receiving instruction appropriate for a dyslexic student. He still can’t read, write, spell or do math anywhere close to grade level.
    • The high-schooler who avoided reading in elementary school by hiding under her desk, who was finally identified with dyslexia this year and offered a 504 plan;
    • The 20-year-old who graduated in 2016 who still wants to learn to read, write and spell so he can get a better job than delivering restaurant meals.

    These women are bright, strong, determined mothers who are dedicated to doing everything they can to help their children succeed. Additionally, they are nice, sweet, thoughtful and kind with no intention of raising a fuss or causing problems with the schools—but too often they encounter the bureaucratic resistance from educators that sends the very clear message: If you push too hard, we won’t like you anymore. And we might not like your kid either.

    We politely call this kind of conversation “advocating.” In reality, it’s fighting with school officials who don’t even use the word “dyslexia,” much less deliver appropriate services.

    The reason it’s a fight is quite simple: The Education Establishment does not teach dyslexic students in the way they learn.

    When we seek help at the school, we participate in meetings with educators who typically offer little insight, information or illumination about why they cannot deliver appropriate instruction to our struggling children. Initially, we trust and believe that teachers are well-qualified to teach reading. Only after much research do we finally learn that a teaching credential does not necessarily correlate with knowledge about the science of reading, the latest research about the reading brain or how the “balanced” approach so in vogue for so long is so different from actually teaching to read the English language in a direct, structured, explicit way as verified by scientific research.

    We mothers are left to meet, share our stories, suggest strategies and make plans on what to do the next year, and the next. We speak of how our dyslexic children exhibit great strengths and resilience, how they are filled with great potential, with a wealth of talent, and with great, big hearts they share with the world. We know they are worth the investment it takes to teach them what they need to know, and how they need to learn it. From Day One in Kindergarten all the way until Graduation Day.

    If only educators would learn that, too.  I’d love to have a nice chat with any who are interested; yes, over a steaming cup of coffee.

  • October is Dyslexia Awareness Month

    For many years, The Dyslexia Project has worked in the community to increase awareness about dyslexia every single day. But October, as Dyslexia Awareness Month, offers a special opportunity to focus attention on the issue, and we do our best to provide our expertise to the community.

    The County Board of Supervisors

    In 2014, we began a long and beneficial partnership with the Santa Barbara County Board of Supervisor to recognize the official month and to honor individuals who are dedicated to improving the lives of the 1 in 5 with dyslexia.

    The first year, Santa Barbara Unified School District’s superintendent, Dr. David Cash, was recognized as an administrator who took a special interest in dyslexia. He initiated the creation of the Parent Resource Center at the district office, and was very supportive of efforts in the classrooms and the community to create greater awareness. In his remarks, he stated that acknowledgement of his efforts was one of the most significant awards he received in his career.

    Additional recipients pictured here with Supervisor Das Williams include:  Deidre and Barry Dubin, who operated the Dubin Learning Center, helping countless dyslexic students in more than two decades; Julie DeAngelis and Summer Calvert (of the Rite Care Childhood Language Center, Scottish Rite Masons, Santa Barbara; dyslexic Olympic gold medalist and advocate Kami Craig; learning specialist with Santa Barbara Middle School, Pam Boswell; and The Dyslexia Project’s own dyslexic photographer and determined advocate Monie de Wit. As Boswell noted, “I want all students to not feel limited by one’s learning style and to know that we can all pursue any passion or dream that we may have.”  

    We have also received Proclamations from the City and the State for our efforts and arranged displays in local libraries, bookshops, and other public places. The value of these public exhibits is to pause a moment in civic life to recognize dyslexia in front of an audience that might not otherwise know much about it. We are grateful to have this annual opportunity to speak about dyslexia in a positive way and to recognize the efforts of so many in our community who work on behalf of dyslexics. 

  • Monie De Wit

    About Monie

    I love photography. I especially love photographing people. I am excited about this project because it gives voice to dyslexics in their own words along with their portrait.  Our series of images celebrates neurodiversity and encourages meaningful advocacy and activism in our communities.

    As a dyslexic myself, I know firsthand the many issues that affect individuals with dyslexia—from reading struggles to the emotional challenges. This project allows us to really connect and tell stories that must be told.

    I have been very lucky to pursue my professional career in a creative field, which allows me to use my dyslexic strengths. As a mother of a dyslexic son, I know how important it is for parents to step up and advocate for their children, so that they are able to obtain the education they deserve.

    I firmly believe, as Dr. Sally Shaywitz says, that rather than a knowledge gap, in dyslexia there is an action gap. We must take action to implement the deep knowledge we have of dyslexia and ensure that this knowledge is translated into policy and practice.

    With this project, “1 in 5: The Face of Dyslexia,” we hope to add to the important dialogue about dyslexia and help the general public understand the issues, as well as why we must change our policies and practices for more equitable access to education—and fulfilling lives.

  • The Dyslexic Dozen

    This series of graphics was originally inspired by those inspired by the song, “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Instead of a holiday theme, we re-created it to have year-round value and a reminder to celebrate the strengths that are often—but not always—a part of dyslexia, too often unrecognized.

  • Literacy Is For Everyone

    The Dyslexia Project’s: Little Free Library Initiative

    The founder of the Little Free Library program, Todd H. Bol, was dyslexic, and he built the first one as a tribute to his mother who loved to read. His hope was that making books available in these libraries would help children and adults learn to read.

    We have had one of these on our property for many years, and been impressed with the community-building effect they have, with parents, children, students, all members of the neighborhood who enjoy the treasures they find within.

    We were inspired to purchase several of these Little Free Libraries and had one donated to us by an educator who no longer lived in an area where it could be used. We are well-aware that books alone are not enough; struggling readers must be taught to read in the way their brains learn.

    Brightly colored with our logo colors and featuring an inspirational figure (including Kofi Annan, Cesar Chavez, Maya Angelou, Frederick Douglass, Henry David Thoreau, and Morgan Freeman) on each side—with a quote about literacy in English on one side, Spanish on the other—they contain information about where to learn more about dyslexia and literacy, they were placed with enthusiastic stewards in Santa Barbara, Goleta, Carpinteria, and even in one in Northern California.  

    As funding and requests continue, we intend to expand this program of outreach to the community and gain visibility for our dyslexia advocacy work, and creating ever-more awareness about supporting strengths and addressing challenges among struggling readers.

    STORIES:

    Penny

    Penny owned The Earthling Bookshop for nearly 25 years. It was a landmark spot in Santa Barbara, a very special community gathering place and the Little Free Library is a natural way for her to share her love of reading and knowledge about dyslexia with the community. She carefully curates a selection of books for residents of her retirement community—and their grandchildren who come to visit.

    Two in One

    One of our stewards installed this Little Free Library many years ago and asked to have it painted with The Dyslexia Project’s colors to join in the initiative. She then decided to add an additional one, just for children in the neighborhood. Both of them are well-stocked and well-loved.

    Talulah's library

    In Memory

    We were pleased to accept the donation of a hand-built Little Free Library created in memory of the father of a county educator who moved to a remote location and could no longer use it. We knew it was a special one and some months later, learned of the very sad passing of a little 12-year-old who loved to read. Her name was Talulah, and we managed to get the library to her father who placed it on the campus where she had attended school. A fitting tribute to a child gone too soon who continues to inspire others to learn to read.

    Turquoise by Talulah
    Miss Talulah's Library
    Literacy is for everyone
  • When Reading Hurts

    A Mother Learns to Decode Dyslexia with the Help of Her Son and Other Experts

    By Cheri Rae

    My earliest school memory is from Starr King Elementary in Long Beach, California, when the classroom teacher and school librarian selected me to join the accelerated reading club. Our little group met weekly in an airy, sunny room full of books. We must have been smug little show-offs, elevated and admired just because reading came so easily, so naturally. We got to read aloud to the other kids in class, the ones who just couldn’t read as well, who just weren’t as smart.

    Or so we thought.

    Most people believe reading skill reflects intelligence — in essence, you read well if you’re smart, and if you struggle to read, your intelligence just doesn’t quite measure up.

    The corollary is that the obviously smart person who struggles to read just isn’t trying hard enough.

    Both beliefs are wrong.

    When Two Vowels Go Walking

    For my son, reading has been a nightmare — with letters on a page assembled in apparently random patterns with no particular relationship to sound or meaning.

    I never appreciated the gift of easy reading — or the pain, humiliation, embarrassment, and damage to self-esteem associated with reading difficulties — until I woke up to the fact my smart little boy just wasn’t catching on, no matter how hard he worked.

    I had read to him as an infant, a toddler, and throughout his childhood. While he loved hearing stories, he just couldn’t read them on his own when it seemed time for him to master the skill. Listening to him struggle to read aloud was cringe-worthy, difficult, and completely baffling. There was no rhythm, cadence, or apparent understanding of how to sound out a word, no matter how much prompting, review, encouragement, or instruction.

    His relationship to the written word was frightful, what educator Horace Mann described as “skeleton-shaped, bloodless, ghostly apparitions.” He may as well have been trying to decipher Morse code or the Rosetta Stone.

    Nothing seemed to help enhance his reading: not easy-readers in subjects he liked; not summer school enrichment classes or expensive tutoring sessions during the school year; not hours at home drilling with flash cards; not helpful little phrases such as, “when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking.” Not even the promise of a new bike if he finished reading a shelf full of books on his own.

    Finally, in 3rd grade, a battery of tests administered by the school psychologist confirmed that his performance in school did not measure up to his intellectual ability, and he landed in special education classes. He got extra time in class, modified homework, and slowed-down instruction in his school’s Learning Center, but as the clock ticked and years passed, he lagged behind his classmates.

    They were reading to learn, while he was still learning to read.

    They were reading for pleasure, while he was reading in pain.

    Tips for Parents

    1) Push for assessment if you suspect dyslexia or other learning disability; time is of the essence; ask for testing of all suspected disabilities as well as assistive technology.

    2) Learn all you can about the issue, and realize you must advocate for your child.

    3) Bring a knowledgeable advocate (or attorney) to meetings; document everything and keep impeccable records.

    4) Bring to meetings a photo of your child, a statement in your child’s own words, or even a video of your child reading to make your child’s struggle real to decision-makers.

    5) Focus on your child’s strengths: mechanical ability, musical aptitude, sports ability, artistic talent, etc.

    It made no sense to me. The harder he worked at reading, the more frustrated and hopeless he felt — and so did I. He compensated for his lack of reading skills by honing his athletic ones; he became an accomplished baseball player with a natural swing, an accurate arm, and an uncanny ability to track the trajectory of a ball hit to the outfield. The book on him has always been that he is “coachable,” but no amount of coaching in reading ever resulted in any significant gains.

    He had no difficulty learning, just reading the words.

    Sometimes I read stuff twice and it doesn’t make any sense, and I get confused. I have to concentrate so much on the reading in the textbook, I can’t learn what I’m supposed to be learning about. So it takes forever to keep going back and read it again. Then I run out of time and have lots of homework.

    He had no problems comprehending what he heard, just reading out loud.

    When we’re reading out loud in class, I sometimes look at a word and I say what I think it is, then read three more words, and realize it’s wrong. So I go back and say it correctly and then I lose my thought. I don’t really stay on the lines that much. I might get to the end of a sentence, and skip a line and then go back, and I’m all jumbled up and have to stop, and then I feel embarrassed.

    With his keen observational skills, outside-the-box thinking, and easygoing ability to get along with just about everyone, life was pretty easy for him, everywhere but at school. There, success is determined by scores on standardized tests — and his future life chances depend on measuring up.

    By the time he reached 7th grade, with his ability to read lagging far behind, I lay awake nights worried about his past, his present, his future: What had I done wrong? What could I do to help him? What if he never learned to read at all?

    What we needed was a miracle. And after years of searching, hoping, and praying, we finally got one.

    A Mother on a Mission

    On a friend’s recommendation, I phoned the Dyslexia Awareness and Resource Center in Santa Barbara and finally spoke with Joan Esposito, the woman who cofounded the center in 1990.

    After listening patiently to my story about my son’s reading struggles, she interrupted me in her characteristically blunt fashion. “For a smart woman, you have a lot to learn,” she noted. “Your son is dyslexic; that’s all.”

    “No,” I said, “he’s been diagnosed with something called ‘specific learning disability,’ but I don’t know, specifically, what that means. They talk about visual processing and memory issues, but no one has ever suggested he’s dyslexic. Doesn’t that mean he sees letters backwards?”

    Clearly exasperated, she told me that “specific learning disability” is an umbrella term that includes dyslexia — but the word is rarely if ever mentioned in the public schools. Then she ordered me to come to her office as soon as possible, where she planned to set me straight.

    This patron saint of dyslexics maintains a sanctuary in an upstairs office on Carpinteria Street. The walls are lined with framed proclamations signed by distinguished city, county, state, and federal officials commending Esposito for her work — and a dozen inspirational magazine covers, photos of famous dyslexics, and drawings by children expressing their painful reading experiences.

    An article reprinted from Fortune Magazine, “The Dyslexic CEO,” caught my eye; it featured a photo of financial wizard Charles Schwab at age 13 — the same age as my son. It recounted the childhood reading struggles of dozens of other successful entrepreneurs — including Kinko’s Paul Orfalea and Virgin Atlantic Airways’ Richard Branson.

    Their stories were nearly identical to what was going on with my son.

    It was a revelation. I felt like my son and I had arrived at the place we needed to be, and found the person we needed to meet.

    She described how she was always a struggling reader until she was finally diagnosed as dyslexic at the age of 44, as a student at Santa Barbara City College.

    With stunning clarity, she explained dyslexia, a manifestation of a brain neurologically wired to learn differently that may affect up to 20 percent of the population — one in five children and adults. And she noted that approximately 80 percent of the schoolchildren who are diagnosed with learning disabilities may actually be dyslexic.

    She took me by the hand and led me through the unfamiliar territory of learning disabilities, defining a path where before there had been only dead-ends and rocky roads. She pointed me — and my son — in the right direction to get the help he needed.

    She uttered the odd words, “Lindamood-Bell. That’s what he needs, Lindamood-Bell.”

    I had no idea what she was talking about, but listened closely as she explained that Lindamood-Bell is one of several research-based learning programs that rely heavily on one-on-one intensive training that literally rewire the brain’s sensory-cognitive processing ability — and teach dyslexics to read in the exact way their unique brains learn.

    While I didn’t quite understand — or believe her — nothing else had worked. I placed my faith in her convincing words.

    After years of despair, it seemed too much to hope for that such a well thought-out and proven solution outside existed — not in the public-school classroom, but in the stately former home of the St. Vincent’s School and Orphanage on De la Vina Street, home of the Lindamood-Bell Training Center. The director, Janelle Ashby, described the program of instruction — designed to help students develop the mental imagery needed to match sounds to written words. Clearly, my son’s reading struggles were not unique; they just hadn’t been properly addressed.

    Because the school district really has no formalized instruction program geared to the specific needs of a dyslexic student — and a review of assessments over time proved he had made so little progress over so much time — school district officials eventually approved my son’s enrollment in the Lindamood-Bell reading program.

    In the first week, it was obvious that something extraordinary was happening — and it was all good.

    Each subsequent week during the intensive, four-hours-per-day instruction period, we met with one of his specially trained Lindamood-Bell clinicians, a fellow dyslexic named Dana. She proudly showed assessments that indicated his daily progress, growing list of sight words mastered, and reading proficiencies reached.

    After 180 hours of one-on-one instruction, extensive reassessment revealed his word attack skills — a fundamental requirement for reading competence — increased from 2nd-grade level to 8th-grade level. And his oral reading skills increased from 3rd-grade to 7th-grade level.

    Retesting six months later revealed the reading gains had held steady. There are still a few areas of reading weakness that keep his total reading ability a bit below grade level — and need to be addressed — but his reading skills have so significantly improved he can be considered a competent reader for the first time in his life.

    On occasion, he even picks up a book and reads for fun.

    Imagine If You Can

    Early this year, Santa Barbara’s Dyslexia Awareness and Resource Center sponsored its annual conference, featuring a leading expert on learning disabilities, Jonathan Mooney. He movingly revealed his story of undiagnosed dyslexia, depression, and the decision to commit suicide when he was a 6th grader who couldn’t read. He was branded — as so many dyslexics are — as “stupid, crazy, lazy.” With lots of support services, and the development of self-advocacy skills, Mooney overcame all three labels, and graduated with honors from Brown University.

    Mooney, author of two books and founder of project Eye-to-Eye, a mentoring and advocacy nonprofit for students with learning differences, spoke of the need to develop classroom strategies that facilitate, celebrate, and validate different ways of learning. He suggested academic accommodations including the use of audio books, voice-activated software, oral exams, portfolio presentations, and note-takers to assist dyslexics to be successful in their requirement “to play a game not built for you.”

    With all the negativity heard about dyslexia, the great irony is that the pantheon of creative spirits, original thinkers, innovators, and super-achievers is filled with distinguished dyslexics who struggled in school, including some of the smartest people who ever lived: Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison. Add presidents Thomas Jefferson and John F. Kennedy; Steven Spielberg and Steve Jobs; Babe Ruth and Magic Johnson; Goldie Hawn and Whoopi Goldberg; and Santa Barbara’s own Schwab and Orfalea. And just this summer, actor Orlando Bloom announced his dyslexia; and in a touching eulogy delivered by his niece, the dyslexia of the late senator Robert Byrd was also made public.

    You may say I’m a dreamer — John Lennon was dyslexic, too — but I think it’s high time we focus on the positive attributes of dyslexic kids and adults and start regarding them as those who possess the superior minds among us.

    What if progressive educators — and insightful philanthropists — in our community finally realized that it’s time for Santa Barbara to create a model program to teach these kids — far too many of whom are lost these days?

    What if politicians and bureaucrats could finally understand that the cost of not teaching young people to read because they think differently is far greater than the funds required for training teachers and investing in special programs?

    What if we called it the Academy of Auditory Learners or the Center for Dyslexia & Creativity (after Yale’s research center of the same name) and stuffed it full of cutting-edge assistive technology, neuro-educators, and innovative programs geared to the way these brains are wired?

    Now I lay awake at night thinking about a lot of new questions: What would have happened if we had never diagnosed his dyslexia? What if school administrators had not approved the Lindamood-Bell training and he never learned to read in the way he learns? Would he have ended up like so many struggling readers — depressed, angry, and alienated from school? What about all those other kids just like him? I cannot fathom how, in this community that prizes innovation and compassion, we allow one in five children to fall so far behind and suffer so much.

    One in five — that is the estimated number of children in public schools who have some degree of dyslexia. That means that in a typical secondary school classroom of 30 kids, six of them are struggling to keep up — through no fault of their own. Because of the way their brains are wired, the most common teaching practices — taking notes during a lecture, reading off the board, writing essays, reading aloud — are, for kids with dyslexia, pure torture.

    Way back in 1990, there was a Dyslexia Task Force Committee in the Santa Barbara School Districts. It issued a report called the Superintendent’s Study Committee on Dyslexia along with a set of recommendations, including the characteristics of dyslexia, specialized training for teachers, and the development of collaborative partnerships for successful learning for all students. Over time, and a shuffle of administrators, that report has been forgotten.

    It’s time we pull it out again and heed its conclusion: “The emphasis is on providing those who work with dyslexic students resources and expertise for dealing with this debilitating condition which, if untreated, contributes to the growing number of dysfunctional adults.”

    It took a massive effort to get my dyslexic son the reading program that teaches him in the way his brain learns. My hope — no, my expectation — is that we provide every dyslexic student with the same opportunity. Surely we’re smart enough to do that.

    Cheri Rae is a longtime contributor to The Independent and other area publications.