Two of my children have dyslexia.
Both have very significant difficulties.
As their mother I should be concerned,
and possibly even upset.
But I am not.
It does not define them.
In truth I often laugh loudly,
at their spectacular mistakes.
I was checking up on my youngest recently.
Unlike my son, she was very cross when she found out she had Dyslexia.
For a short time she was embarrassed and even ashamed.
I was wondering if she was a bit more positive about it.
She loves to write but after diagnosis, she stopped.
To give you an insight into her difficulty,
here is an example of her writing.
“The twends(twins) starited cring because thay mist there Dad.
But then they stopid.
The mom felit a bit sick so the Dad came home and the twends were agstatig(ecstatic),
The othre kids cam home form school ellye (early)”.
I didn’t want to just come right out and ask her about her feelings,
so I went fishing.
“You know your friend who has missed a lot of school,
has she fallen behind in class?” I asked.
“Oh no, she is very clever, she is at the top of the class” was the reply.
“Is there a top of the class?” I asked.
“Well no not really, but there are lots who are very clever,
and they are in the top,
and then some who are not as clever, and they are not in the top.” my daughter said.
“Right, I said, I understand, and where are you?”.
“Oh well I am not in any of those places” she replied.
Now I was interested, concerned even!
She didn’t consider herself in any of the categories?
“So where are you?” I asked, half dreading the reply.
“Well you see mum, there is the you’re very clever group,
and the you’re good too group, and then there is me,
I’m in the you’re okay group”.
My heart gave a little skip and I stifled a smile.
She was in the “you’re okay” group.
And you know what, on behalf of my little lady, I am more than happy with that.