Dyslexia in workplace

So much of the world revolves around reading.  People who have no trouble reading, don't even notice it.  A flyer on the wall of the post office, political brochures, newspapers, instructions, menu's...the list is endless. 
One thing I hadn't thought of before was all the paperwork when you start a new job.
As much as starting a job can be daunting for anybody, imagine sitting down to read and sign all the policies, OHS documents and tax forms that come with starting a new position.

For many jobs, dyslexia isn't a problem, in fact, the skills and thought processes of a dyslexic person can be a huge asset for many organisations.  And yet, in the formal induction or training, we still sit people down with paperwork. 

Companies who hire apprentices for trades frustrate me the most.  Many kids excel at trades and working with their hands, but don't do well at school.  Whether they are dyslexic or just have learning difficulties is irrelevant.  Still, those companies simply sit those kids in front of a computer to do an online induction or hand them booklets of policy and OHS documents and tell them to read, complete and sign. 

Imagine for a moment that you are a 16 year old boy, who has always struggled to read.  You are lucky enough to get an apprenticeship and you turn up for you first day, already nervous.  Your boss walks in and hands you a large document, plus a tax form and says "get this read and signed before you can start". 
You look at the document.   It looks very important and formal.  A contract.  The words are long and you can't read them.  The more you look the harder it gets to understand them.  You feel your stomach in knots and your breathing becomes shallow.  Your head starts to pound and you begin to wonder if you are going to be able to do this job at all if you can't even do the first thing they ask of you.  Your mind begins to think of just taking off out the door and never coming back.   Fear is a terrible thing. 
Just then, your boss walks back in.  "Geez, that should have only taken a minute, what they hell have you been doing?".  
You hurridly sign the documents and hand them over.   You look out into the workshop, already feeling that you don't fit here.  Too stupid. 

Organisations need to think about having appropriate induction processes which build confidence, not destroy it.  Motivate and encourage rather than scare.   People who are motivated to do well, achieve more than people who are scared to do poorly. 

Consider learning styles when designing induction programs. Just because someone has a problem with reading, doens't reflect on their intelligence.  Often people with reading difficulties are more resilient, dedicated and motivated than others that everything comes easy to.

Words hurt...

“A teacher sent the following note home with a six-year-old boy: “He is too stupid to learn.” That boy was Thomas A. Edison”.
- Thomas Edison


Teachers need to think about the power of their words.  Lochie was constantly told he wasn't trying.  It caused incredible frustrations for him. 
Imagine trying your hardest to run a race, absolutely making your body ache with pain and efforts.  Then having your coach turn around and tell you that you didn't try?
That is the same as telling a dsylexic that they aren't trying.  Lochie sees words move, flip, fade and change as he concentrates hard.  So hard that he makes his head hurt.  Then a teacher standing over you, telling you that you  haven't tried.

Imagine little Thomas Edison, six years old, trotting home from school with a note in his pocket to let his parents know that he is too stupid to learn.  What was he feeling?  How did he have the energy to get up each day and continue to learn and grow and develop into the icon that he is? 

Resilience.  It would be a wonderful world if we didn't need it but we do. 

Each word that passes your lips has the ability to spread joy or hurt.  Think carefully as your words could be poisen. 
 

Reading

“Lochie, your turn”.

Upon hearing those words, a heavy stone formed in my stomach, weighing me down further as each moment passed.  Everything is going in slow motion.  I imagined the stone becoming so heavy that it would force me down through the floor and into the earth with only my head poking up.   I braced my legs and hoped that it would happen. 

The clock on the wall was shouting down at me, “THREE MINUTES TO GO”, teasing me with each slight movement of the second hand.  I blinked and stared at it.  It seemed to have moved backwards.  How was that possible?  As I watched that hand, it seemed to be that the movements were in tune with the pounding in my head as the blood rushed through my brain, searching for the area which held the knowledge I needed.  Would it find it this time?  It doesn’t usually.  Stupid brain lets me down all the time.

My stomach now had butterflies fluttering around the stone.  I could picture them clearly flying around, pausing to land on the stone.  Surprisingly those little butterflies made the stone even heavier.  Who would have thought that?  They look so light?   I imagined again being swallowed up by the ground below me.  

Original Artwork Opal Vagelatos 2012

“Lochie!”

I glared at the clock are realised that all the imagining in the world wasn’t going to make this go away.  I swallowed hard, wiped my sweaty hands on my pants, scratched my head and looked down at the page. 

It was worse than normal.  All I could see was black lines, moving like waves lapping onto the shore, and the white rivers running through them.  The harder I looked, the more everything moved.  Waves and rivers, moving, getting bigger, smaller, moving moving.  I felt sick. 

“Can I go to the toilet”?  I asked.

“Lochie there are two minutes before the bell.   Just do your reading and then you can go”, replied the teacher getting annoyed.

I look back down at the page.  The black wavy lines were faint and still moving.  I could feel the acid raising in my stomach and sitting in my throat.  Burning.   A very unpleasant sensation.  I wiped my hands on my pants again and picked up the book.  I took a last glance at the ground.  It didn’t look like I was going to be swallowed up in time.  My mind went briefly to thoughts I have had before.  Bad thoughts, about V-line trains and never having to go to school again.

Squinting, I put the book close to my face.  “Sir, I haven’t got my glasses, I can’t see it”.

“Lochie, you don’t wear glasses”, he said exasperated.

“No wonder I can’t see it then!”, I said.  There were a few giggles from my classmates.  I put on my charming smile and looked around the class. The smart girls were rolling their eyes but most of the kids looked amused.

Ding……..ding……..ding…….ding 

Saved by the bell.  I grabbed my bag and ran.  I was out the door before the teacher could say “please stack your chairs”.  I knew he would catch up with me the next day but for now, I was out of there!  I could breathe.  My head no longer pounded.  The stone in my stomach had reduced, but was still there as a reminder that it was only a temporary reprieve and that I will still have to face up to the teacher tomorrow.  Maybe not.  Perhaps I’ll never go back to school again. 

These few paragraphs were put together with my son Lochie who is dyslexic.  It shows the absolute fear and pressure that schools put onto kids with a learning disability.  I certainly hope that teachers read this and get a bit of an insight into what goes on in the head of some of these kids. 

It is also the introduction to a book that Lochie and I are putting together to raise awareness of dyslexia. The book will tell stories of what Lochie, and other kids like him have been through.  Lochie is a survivor.

Fish Can't Climb Trees...

How true is that?  This quote came around on one of those facebook things that people post all the time. I read that and thought OH MY GOODNESS!  That perfectly describes dyslexic people.  Expecially Lochie. 

Dyslexic people can be highly intelligent, incredibly creative, ingenious, popular and very successful.  But, they all must endure years at schools, and sometimes throughout their entire lives, where they are made to feel stupid.

Lochie is very intelligent.  His memory for details, information from documentaries and recall of converstations etc is incredible.  He is an amazing social person with a fantastic personality.  Non of this comes out when he is faced with one of the most scary things on this planet to him.  A sheet of white paper with black writing.  Or as he says, black wavey moving lines with white rivers. 

I can't wait to get my book finished and make more people aware that ability to read is not a sign of how intelligent a person is.

Best Teacher EVER!

Throughout all of Lochies time at school, he had only one very special teacher who put in huge efforts to understand, help and support him.

In Grade 3, Lochie was pretty excited to have a male teacher.  Mr Daniels was a fairly young teacher.  Full of enthusiasm, energy and ready for a full on year.  He arranged meetings with all the parents at the begining of the year to have a little bit of insight into all his students.  The meeting with me was a little longer because he had read Lochies file and knew about his problems.

Mr Daniels spent a lot of time engaging with Lochie and building up his confidence by highlighting things he was good at. If the class was doing sports, he would often use Lochie to demonstrate a skill, or explain a rule.  In the classroom, he would never ask Lochie to read out loud or do the times tables competitions because he knew Lochie just couldn't do it and would feel bad.  Mr Daniels understood that Lochie was always willing to try, but didn't push him if Lochie wasn't comfortable to do so.

It is rare to find a teacher with this much insight into their students.  In my experience anyway.  Mr Daniels encouraged Lochie to try things and would stay back with him after class, to hear him try to read out aloud rather than making him do it in front of his class, only to be laughed at.

One of the main things Lochie says that frustrated him in school was that teachers always said that he wasn't trying.  How frustrating would that be?  Trying so hard that your brain hurts and then getting told that you weren't?  What does that do to a young persons self esteem?

It was grade three when Lochie was going through a lot of testing and he also got the coloured glasses.  Mr Daniels printed all Lochie's worksheets on coloured paper because Lochie often "forgot" to wear the glasses because classmates always asked him why they were blue.

There was little point with Lochie attempting to read off the board and Mr Daniels understood that.  Rather than sitting him in front of the board as a constant reminder of the things he couldn't understand, Lochie sat with his back to the board, facing Mr Daniels.  This helped Mr Daniels keep a close eye on when Lochie was getting frustrated and offer help straight away.

As I just re-read what I have already written, it comes across as if Lochie was a favourite.  I dont believe this was the case.  Every kid in that class blossomed that year and it was due to the efforts of a teacher with energy and a passion to bring out the best of everyone.

I have teachers as friends, and they say, "we have 25 students in class, there is no time to focus on one who is having problems?"
I disagree with that.  If teachers put in effort at the begining of the year to really engage and get to know students, it isn't a huge effort to keep track of each one individually.

Lochie and I would like to find Toby Daniels.  He was teaching at Beaconsfield Primary School but only for a few years.  He then went overseas to China to teach English.
If anyone can track him down please pass this blog on.  I really hope he gets to know how much difference the year with him made to Lochie.

Thank you!!

Fishing for self esteem

As you have read from past posts, Lochie's self esteem suffered badly due to his dyslexia.  One thing that I always tried to focus on was, find something he was good at and encourage that to the fullest.
Something quite often associated with dyslexia is a midline issue.  For example, Lochie is

ambidextrous.  This has made him an outstanding sports person.  Playing footy, he was always one of the higher skilled kids, despite his small stature.  His self motivation and determination is extreme to say the least. 

Another thing that we tried with him was fishing. 

Unusual for little kids, Lochie's favourite shows were never cartoons or Sesame Street.  He loved programs about the outdoors, animals or travel. Especially shows about fishing and camping.  He learned a lot from these shows, and taught us all many things we didn't know.

Years ago, we lived in the same street as a local celebrity, PaulWorsteling, has created a fishing show called IFish   Lochie was pretty inspired by this so we bought him a rod and he watched show after show and of we went.  His ability to learn was demonstrated pretty clearly.  Anyone thinking that dyslexia is an issue of intelligence is seriously mistaken.  

The more we fished, the better he got.  He knew all the tips and tricks.  

Lochie left school when he was 14.  He couldn't handle it any more.  School can be a cruel place when you are dyslexic and faced with many people (mainly teachers)  who lack understanding of the issue.  

He worked from the day he left school and saved up until he could buy a boat.   

Such a sense of achievement.  At 16, he had actually bought a great boat.  Lochie got 100% on his boat licence test.  The only test he had ever got such a high score for.   

Loc says that some of his happiest times are out on the bay in his little boat just pottering around, dropping in a line.   He knows that having the boat and being a good fisherman is something to be proud of.  Far away from the struggles he faces in everyday life. I love this photo.  To me it shows Lochie at his happiest and proudest. 

The aim of my blog and book is to raise awareness about dyslexia.  If you have a kid struggling with a learning problem, find something they are good at.  If they aren't sporty, look at fishing or something like that.  Without fishing and football, Lochie would have even less self esteem than he has now.   

Lochie's next goal is to save up to go on one of those big fishing tours and learn how to catch the BIG ONES!!   Whoo hoo.  I"m sure he will get there.  

,

 

A Mothers Pain

From the time Lochie was born, he and I had a special bond.  Lochie was attached to me for the first 12 months of his life.  He had severe colic and just couldnt be put down.   He used to twirl his hands through my hair....actually, he still does.  He never had a security blanket or dummy.  Just me. 

When I first realised he had a problem with reading, I literally did everything I could to help him.  I went from test to test and really got no help.  I will give you a bigger run down on the tests in a later blog. 

As a parent, I was told that if only I had made him spend time on the floor with mobiles hanging over him, or made him crawl, his nerves in his brain would have developed and he would not have reading problems. 

After being blamed for that, I was told that if I hadn't taken him to babyshows then he would have had less issues with self esteem and would have responded better when offered help. 

I was also told by a psychologist that if I hadn't pushed him into footy (which I didn't, he loved the sport and was/is still brilliant at it) he would have spent more time wanting to read. 

My heart breaks when I see him struggle and it always will.  At night, he used to run into my room several times to get me to remind him about things for the next day.  He used to tell me that he would lay in bed and watch the day replayed in his head feeling every emotion.  Happiness, sadness, anxiety etc.  After the day had played out, he would then think about the next day identifying any problem that may come up.  No wonder the kid never slept.  Again, something I was blamed by the teachers for. 

To every parent going through what I go through having a dyslexic child, I will dedicate my book.  Please pass on your stories to me and I will include them in the book. 

Lets work together to help people understand dyslexia and give support to the people who are sufferers. 

The gift of dyslexia

One gifts Lochie has is his amazing spacial ability. 
It's so handy when we are moving furniture, building shelves, buying outdoor settings etc. 
Today it came in really handy.  He was shopping at a newly opened store and there was a guess the lollies in the jar competition.  I looked and thought about 120.  Lochie said, "nah, there would be about 207".

I looked at the other guesses.  Nobody had guessed anything like that.  Silly me for doubting. 
He won the competition, and the huge jar of lollies, only missing the total by two. 

The gift of dyslexia.

lack of understanding in the workplace

So Lochies’ bad week continued. 

He had an evaluation at work.  As a hard working young man, he prides himself on his workmanship and puts efforts into keeping the workplace clean.  Seriously, this guy is the ideal apprentice.

His evaluation was good, but he got  marked down badly for literacy.  What does that mean for a cabinet maker?  He has made some spelling errors on worksheets.  They weren’t so bad that you couldn’t decipher what he meant but his boss said it wasn’t acceptable. 

 

Lochie said, “I think that’s a bit unfair because you know I’ve got dyslexia and reading is really hard.  I do try my best”.

“Not good enough”, said his Boss.  “Why don’t you go do a short course on how to read?”

 

Poor Lochie!!  How could anyone be so stupid to think that a short course could help.  It just shows again, the problem dyslexics have when dealing with people who have no idea

It never ends.....

Currently on a three day getaway in Adelaide.  Only 8 hours drive from home and not doing anything in particular.  Lochie couldn’t get time off work so he couldn’t come.  Mind you, he is 19, fully licenced and fully capable of caring for himself. 

5am the phone rings. 

“Hey Mum”, Loc says.

“Hey Loc, what’s up?”

“My car has dead battery, do you know where the jumper leads are?” 

“No, why don’t you just get the train?”

“Ok,” he says.  “I think it’s a pretty shit day already”.

“Loc the day will be what you make it.  Love you.”

So off he went to the station.  Five minutes later he rang really distressed.  The government has changed the ticketing system and he couldn’t buy his normal ticket.  There were notices up everywhere explaining the new system but of course, if you are dyslexic and running late for work, that isn’t going to work out so well for you.

As a dyslexic man now, not a child, he is embarrassed to ask for help.   Everyday commuters know the system and he didn’t want to look stupid.  As someone who doesn’t travel by train more than once every few years, I was little help to him. 

Yet again, when I think he is travelling along ok in life, another speed bump in the form of dyslexia smacks him for six again.  He has been unable to get to work, he is upset and distressed at his lack of ability to be independent and also worried that his boss will probably yell at him.  Me, his mum and main support, is sitting here at 6am typing up a blog, over 8 hours away. 

I hate that a gorgeous kid like Loc has such a disability.  One which is so hidden and misunderstood.  He has so much to offer the world but it is always such a battle for him.  

Too many things I can't do...

Last week, Lochies' brother, Trent, graduated from the Police Academy.  He is loving his job and had enjoyed every minute of the training.
Lochie mentioned that he is now thinking that perhaps he might apply as well.  He doesn't like the environment of the Cabinet Making industry and is over putting up with being called an idiot and retard. 
My stomach twisted when I thought about all the reading and studying of Laws that I know Trent had just done.  How could Lochie cope with that considering his learning difficulties?

I showed him some of the books Trent had to read and also copies of his exams.
Lochie said, "But if I'm really fit and good at remembering, why can't I be a Police Officer too?"

Hard to answer because the reason is probably only that the spelling test to get in to the academy challenges most people, let alone someone who sees the words different everytime they look at them.

AFter a lot of talking, I have encouraged him to try but I don't think he will now.  He has no confidence now he looked at the paperwork on the application form alone. 

"Why are there so many things I can't do?  It's not fair." 

With the Paralympics on in the background we had discussions on how the only thing holding you back is usually you. 

"But," said Loc, "The fact is, that job requires lots of reading and writing and I probably won't be able to do it.  Just like these paralympians.  They can do amazing things, but sometimes not even the most basic things they really want to do". 

"Loc, sometimes we need to focus on the positive things we can do and not the things we can't do". 


these conversations go on continually with Loc and I guess they always will.  I've got a son with dreams of high achievement and abilities to match, but not always the abilities needed. 

On the plus side, he brought home an amazing piece of furniture he made by hand at TAFE.  When the last 12 months of his apprenticeship passes soon, I guess there will be more conversations.....

Please keep positive Loc!!   You are amazing...

Will my kids be dyslexic?

Lochie has a gorgeous girlfriend.  They have been together since they were 12 and 13.  At 18 and 19, they are now talking long term. 
Lochie's girlfriend, Rebecca, is currently at university studying speech pathology. They are the cutest little couple. 
Lochie came to me quite seriously and asked for a chat. 
"So Mum, Bec wants to have kids one day...", he said.
"Yes, thats pretty much a normal thing", I replied.
"What if my kid is retarded like me?" he asked.

As much as Lochie spends most of his days floating around, working, chatting, smiling, the impact of his dyslexia must still weigh heavily.
We spoke for a while about how dyslexic doesnt make him retarded, his brain just works differently. 

At the end of our discussion, he said "Mum, I understand what you are saying, but, I never want to have kids if they have to go through what I have to". 

I wish that dyslexia was better understood by society.  I wish that Lochie didnt have to be put through being called retarded, especially in the workplace. 

Working boy

Skipping a bit now, but Lochie came home from work with a story that I just had to share.  Loc is working as an apprentice cabinet maker.  He is meticulous and has amazing work ethic.  His natural ability to talk to people gives him an edge over othe people he is working with and customers adore him.
Loc was working with one of the tradesmen putting in a bathroom cabinet.  Lochie was doing the measurements and reading them out.
"Ok, its 1100 cm, oh no its not, sorry it's 1010", Lochie corrected himself.
"What are you? Dyslexic or something?", demanded the tradesman.
"Well yeah actually, I am", replied Lochie.
"Well don't  be proud of it", shouted the tradesman. 
He continued on often calling Lochie stupid and retarded due to his reading issues.  Lochie doesnt make errors with his reading, but he does take the time to double and triple check.
The continued insults caused Lochie to feel upset about going to work so he brought it up with the boss. 
"well, we didn't know you were retarded", was his only response.

Unfortunately there is limited understanding of dyslexia and there will always be stupid people.  Lochie has just developed resilience to it but it still hurts.

A dyslexic maths class

Lochie had never really had any problems with math.  He sometimes said that he could see the answer, but, because he couldnt show the working out or process, he often failed regardless of having the correct answer.
His math teacher at high school was possibly oblivious to Lochie's problem with reading as he always managed ok in this class.  At least up til half way through year 8.
The regular maths teacher was absent and relieving teacher was a young guy in his early twenties.  The teacher was trying to be mates with the kids and goofing around a bit.
He handed out a worksheet with lots of wordy written maths problems.  The kind that say "if a train was travelling at 80kmp and left the station at 9pm blah blah". 
Lochie looked at the worksheet.  The words were all melting into each other. 
"Excuse me", he said.  "I can't do this kind of problem.  I can't read it".
"Come on Lochie, I can tell you are smart, just do it", replied the teacher.
"I can't.  I can't read the question", Lochie continued.
"Listen, do the maths sheet or go sit outside", said the teacher getting flustered.
"I would rather die than have to do this worksheet", said Lochie.
"Fine," said the exasperated teacher.  "Go lie on the road then, that should fix it".

Lochie got up and ran from the classroom.  Berwick High School was a large school and over 36 buses were due to arrive as well as about 400 cars to pick up students as the end of the day was nearing.

The teacher chased him out only to find him lying on the road out the front of the school in tears. 

He pulled Lochie off the road.  Lochie was hysterical.  He kept repeating that he wanted to die.  He wasn't as clever as other kids.  He couldnt do things and felt he was retarded. 

The school phoned and said that Lochie had been involved in a behavioural incident.  I sighed and left work early to go pick him up.

When the situation was explained to me I was furious.  The school made it seem that the teacher was severely traumatised by Lochie's actions. 

I took Lochie home and left him for a while to calm down. 
We had a chat that night.  Lochie explained to me that he often felt like dying.  He said that the last time he was in English and the teacher made him read out loud and the other kids laughed, he wanted to stand in front of a V-line (country) train and make it all end.  The only thing that stopped him was knowing he had football that night. 

At that point I decided that school was not the right place for Lochie. 

Many people thought I was crazy, but as a mother, to hear that a son was so depressed he wanted to die, well, you just take away the problem. 

I stand by my decision.  The option was to take Lochie to a community school.  As a youth worker, I knew that there were many kids in those schools with drug issues and the last place for a depressed kid was a community school with access to drugs. 

Leaving school at 14 began a new chapter for Lochie.

Future aims

Ok so I've been blogging about Lochie's dyslexia for  while and have no idea if anyone reads or not.  For me, it has a way of debriefing some of the trauma I have felt over the past 15 years of Lochie's life.  As a Mum of a dyslexic child, I have felt shame, embarressment, and helplessness at the fact that there was "something" wrong with my child.  I have had people acuse my child of being stupid when in fact, he is highly intelligent.  Lochie has shared with me his feelings of dispair and also about times he has felt he wanted to self harm.  He disclosed to me that he actually did got to the railway line and consider laying on the tracks and waiting for a train to end his suffering at school.

Blogging is ok, but as I said, no idea if anyone reads it.  What I want to do, and Lochie has agreed to work with me, is write a book for parents and children who are suffering from dyslexia.  The book will be both a support and success story, as well as offering some great strategies that we used to get Lochie through those school years.

Dyslexia is a common problem and if you haven't lived it, you dont understand just how hard it can be.  So many successful people are dyslexic.  Richard Branson is one incredible person who has achieved such great successes.  He also admits that perhaps it was the dyslexia that assisted his mind to think outside the box and create solutions that others should have been able to see but didn't.

If you have read my blog and are interested in hearing more, please post a quick comment or email me at tracy@nutsup.com.au and Ill keep you informed on the progress of the book.  If I hear nothing, I will still write but probaby wont publish.  I am so excited that Lochie is going to work with me.  He says even though books make him feel sick to his stomach, he will do it in the hope that other kids wont have to feel so alone as he felt.  If we can stop one child feeling like he would rather lay on railroad tracks than face another day in school, it is worth it.

For me, I'm hoping to offer support to the parents who are supporting dyslexic children.  It is so incredibly hard and the feeling of being a failure and letting your kids down is so intense.  I'm wanting to let you know that you aren't alone and there are things you can learn from Lochie's story that will ease you and your child's suffering at school.

For teachers, please learn more about what these young people go though.  They often do become behaviour issues but they are struggling with so much.   A dyslexic child sometimes has to process 400 times the information as other kids just to read the same word.  They are exhausted, disempowered and feel so anxious and depressed.  Please expand your mind and gain understanding.

Ok so I guess Ill see if I hear from anyone.

Regards,
Tracy and Lochie

And then it was time for high school

To say Lochie wasn't excited about high school was an understatement.  But, he did already have a lot of friends there and was happy to have the opportunity to be back in touch with some older people.  Socially Lochie was a little above people of his age and needed a bit more stimulating conversation. 
His two older brothers were there as well, so he was going into a fairly comfortable environment, except of course, for the classroom. 

The first problem we faced was that learning a second language was compulsory.  Not only did the written words in English seem like a second language to him, but now he was going to have to cope with learning Geman. 

His German teacher was a large German woman.  She was quite loud and very serious about her teaching.  She favoured the high achieving students.  Lochie was not one of them.

To say Lochie had personality would be an understatement.  He was funny, entertaining, popular, good looking and generally liked by everyone.  Everyone except his German teacher.  Even the other teachers who became frustrated at his behaviour still liked him so we could work on that.  But the German teacher...well...she didn't hide the fact that she detested him.

From Lochie's recollection, most days he had German, he ended up sitting on the steps outside the portable.  Not that it bothered him.  He actually planned it.  He knew how to get kicked out and some days it was as simple as smiling at the teacher.  He was quite proud of the fact that one day, while filing into the classroom with the other kids, he smiled at the teacher and she straightaway told him to not bother coming in.  Now you might be thinking it was a creepy smile...no...it was just a smile.  On that particular day, he remembers feeling really happy.  He had just had a chat with his new girlfriend, Bec, and was thinking about footy training that night. 

Being thown out of class before he even got there did little to quash his mood and he began dancing outside the window.  Yes, it was to distract people and get attention.  Naughty Lochie.  Most of the class laughed with him and the teacher came out ready to explode.  Not many things are more amusing than a large German woman with a bright red face waving her arms around in a frenzy.  Needless to say, I was called up to the school. 

Meeting with the welfare coordinator, year level coordinator and German teacher was going to be a good chance for me to explain more about Lochie and hopefully develop a little more understanding from the school.  I was also talking to Lochie about appropriate behaviour and better ways to deal with things too...I'm not one sided.  It is not ok for him to be distracting.

We started with the German teacher standing up at the table expressing her disgust in Lochie with her bright red face and spittle flying across the table.  I patiently waited for her to finish and asked if she had looked at his file.
" No", she replied, "I have many students."
"Are all you students as troublesome as Lochie?" I asked.
"None", she replied.
"So wouldn't it have made sense to have a look if there was a reason for his behaviour".

I explained about his dyslexia and his other occupational therapy issues.  I gave her copies of his reports and evaluations which she turned upside down and didn't even glance over.  I asked if she could understand how hard it would be for a child to learn a new language when he couldn't easily read English. 

"He isn't stupid!", she said.  "He is clever".
"Yes," I agreed, "but dyslexia makes communicating with writing extremely hard".

She had no intention of listening to anymore and demanded the welfare coordinator suspend him. 

The welfare coordinator had a little more idea of what was going on.  He suggested that Lochie do his assessment orally.  She said no. 

After much back and forthing, I simply said that he was to be taken out of German class. 

The German teacher was horrified!   "This cuts down his chances of having a career!  What if he wants to go to Germany when he is older?  So many things you are taking away from him." 

So, as the terrible mother I am, I persisted and now have cut down his ability to go to uni and become a German teacher.  Oh well.  I guess if he ever does decide to visit Germany, he will need an translator, or manage to communicate without speaking German. 

The teacher just didn't get it.  So caught up in her own world that her country was so extremely special that everyone should visit and that nobody could possibly have any successful career without having a language to help them get into uni course.  She didn't understand that I had a child suffering anxiety and that had to be the highest level of concern.  Until the anxiety was reduced, Lochie would never thrive. 

Many teachers just dont understand.  University isn't the aim of every person.  Nor do I believe that people with higher education are of higher value than anyone else.  Many people I hold in high regard have never been to university, but they make a valuable contribution to society and make the world a better place. 

High school continued to be a struggle for Lochie and over the next year, he spoke openly about suicide.  Something that chills any mother to the core. 

My next blog will tell the story of Lochies struggle with his inner demons.

Maybe you need to rebirth him?

Lochie's frustrations at school increased over the last few years at Primary School.  I remember his grade 5 teacher calling me in for a chat. 
"he just can't sit still", she said.
"yes, the occupational therapist told me he has to move in order to stimulate his brain to learn and remember so no, he doesn't sit still", I told her.  It was all in his file, I wish I didnt have to continue to have the same conversation over and over.
"And you used to take him to babyshows?",  she asked.
"yes", geez where was this going?
She wasn't backward in saying what she thought.  "So, do you think that the babyshows was what caused all his problems?".
"No"
"Seems like he really hasn't developed like the other kids.  Have you considered rebirthing?"

What the?  Well I hadn't expected that one.  She then explained that there was a program for kids with behaviour or learning problems called Rebirthing.  The whole set up seemed pretty weird.  Lochie was ten at the time.  She explained it to me.  The child is covered with warm wet blankets and the mum puts pressure on the blanket so he feels like he is in a womb. Then the mother proceeds, with the help of the program facilitator, to "give birth" to the child as he tries to wriggle out the blanket whilst the mum and the facilitator press down on the blanket so it's hard for him.  The mum has to do all the breathing, and noises of pushing as the child emerges from the blanket as if he is being born again.  Apparently it all ends with the child feeling like he has a new begining of life and comes out without learning disability or behaiour issues. 

It may surprise you to hear, but I didn't take her advice.  Lochie wasn't in need of that, and I was more concerned about the damage that may cause.

Taking Lochie to school on his first day of grade six was traumatic.  He was ok until we tuned into the street. He broke down and sobbed.  He couldnt stop crying.  My normally happy, smiley little boy was in extreme distress.  I drove past the school and pulled over. 

"I can't do it Mum, Ill never be able to do grade six.  It's too hard.  Everyone else can do the work except for me."  I'd never seen him this upset. 

We drove home and he missed that first day.  We did a lot of talking, and preparing for the next day and he went off ok.  I was sick with stress, and obviously he was too, but better at hiding it.  I did wonder how he would survive the year.  What would happen the next year at high school? 


Lochie's nanna was a retired teacher.  He was lucky that she came up three days per week to help him get his literacy up to where it needed to be.  He loved the time with her and I think it really was good for her too.   A retired teacher needs to teach.  She loved it.

Her work wasn't in vain.  Lochie ended up doing his testing for high school and not qualifying for an aide.  So off he went to high school.   If we think we had trouble in primary school...I had no idea what I was in for at high school.

The Testing begins

The trip to the Dyslexia Centre was interesting.  The lady knew a lot about the difficulties Lochie was having.  She did a lot of tests on him including an IQ test which showed that he had extremely high IQ.

The testing too, a whole day and Lochie and I were exhausted at the end of it.  I paid the $800 and was told that the results would be posted to me in the next week.

The results arrived.  Two pages stating that Lochie was advanced socially, emotionally and had very high intelligence.  He was classified "severe dyslexic" on her scale.  I searched through the repoort again.  There was nothing in there that indicated any actions I or the school needed to take. 

I phoned the lady.  She said that she could only diagnose dyslexia, not fix it.  Fantastic, so now I had a child who was labelled, and apparently, unfixable.  

I began researching dyslexia.  The only information I found was about how difficult it was to diagnose properly as most children who had trouble reading, were diagnosed as dyslexic. 

Lochie was due to go into grade 2.  His teacher recommended he repeat, but the Principal said there is no point Lochie repeating because he would never "get it".  I decided to take Lochie to a new school.

I found Beaconsfield Primary.  There was nearly 1000 kids at his old school, and Beaconsfield only had 180 students.  I spoke at length to the Principal who was very understanding.  She suggested puting Lochie in a composite class where he would get the social interraction from the older kids but could do the work of the lower level.   I left feeling confident that Lochie would have the support he needed at Beaconsfield.

Lochie and his brothers all settled in quickly to the new school.  It was a well run school with a country feel.  After the first week, Lochies teacher asked if I would mind if she referred him for testing.  I agreed, but told her about the Dyxlexia Centre report.  She assured me that it was nothing like that so I signed the form and he was assessed the next week. 

Again, the scores came back that he was advanced in all ways except the ability to read and write.  The school immediately organised for occupational therapy sessions. 

The Occupational Therapist explained a lot about Lochie's condition which was extremely helpful to me.  She asked if Lochie crawled.  I explained about his colic and how he couldn't be left on the ground. She said that many of the kids she sees with learning disorders never crawled.  There are vital brain development processes that are stimulated by crawling.  Many dyslexic kids are also colic babies.  There is no clear research as to whether the dyslexia is caused by the lack of brain development, but it certainly seems to be a trend. 

The sessions consisted of Lochie working on letters.  We made letters in sand, with giant rope, with all different sensory things.  He jumped on a mini trampoline, then climbed ladders, then made the letters again. He couldn't do the same letter five minutes after he had just done it.  He had no recollection of what it looked like. 

Games with balls, and other tests on motor skills showed that Lochie had no preference for his left or right hand.  He also couldn't move one finger without the matching finger on the other hand moving in the same way.  As lovely as the therapist was, Lochie was now 8 years old and begining to work out that he was different to the other kids. 

Lochie began getting depessed from about grade 3.  His love was his football.  As one of the stars on  the team, they went through year after year as virtually undefeated.  Lochie was small, but an absolute gun on the field.  He had a lot of friends in football, school and the area in general, but he started hating school with a passion.   

Many mornings, he would lay in bed complaining of headaches or tummy aches.  As much as I knew it was stress related, I couldn't send him on those days.   Those days got closer and closer.  His grade three teacher suggested I take him to another centre.   This one cost me over $2000 and ended up with similar results.  Very clever kid, just wasn't wired right.  They gave him coloured glasses because reading black letters on white is the hardest to see, so he had blue tinged glasses. 

In this test Lochie said that when he looks at a page of writing he sees black wriggly lines (the words) and white rivers. I didn't understand that until he showed me.  He traced his little finger down the page gliding between the words in patterns that did look like water running down a window on a rainy day.  It was explained to me that when Lochie looks at a word, the letters are different each time, sometimes turning around, sometimes backwards, upsidedown, so his mind has to go through up to 400 processes to read one 3 letter word.  No wonder he was always tired. 

The glasses didn't help.  Having a tolerant teacher helped a bit, but Lochie would often come home crying with frustration that he couldn't do the work and felt stupid. 

The feeling of frustration didn't change through grade 4, 5 and 6.  He had a private tutor each day to help him through maths and english and was doing ok but it was still much harder for him than other kids. 

Although Lochie's teachers knew about his problem, the Emergency Teachers rarely did.  When they took over for the day, they were frustrated with a little boy who seemed clever, who refused to do any work.  One day it hit a point where the Releaving teacher told Lochie to stop being silly and do the worksheet.  Lochie threw a chair and a few other things and took off.  This was the start of his behaviour issues at school...