The biggest challenge in my life began in third grade, when I was diagnosed with ADHD, dyslexia, and dysgraphia. I had struggled with severe difficulties in the classroom for some time, but now that my problem had a name – several names, actually – it was up to me to do something about them. Yes, my diagnosis was hard to cope with, but I now see it as a positive milestone in my academic life. I not only had to do something, but I also could do something to improve academically.
Although I could name my struggles, they didn’t end right away. I still was pulled from every PE class and a handful of recesses to do the worst thing imaginable for a child with dyslexia and ADHD: sit inside at my desk and quietly do word searches. Or try to do them. This task would only fuel my hyperactivity, discombobulate the already mixed-up words in my dyslexia-plagued brain, and, worst of all, force me to stew in my own thoughts. It was a painful period. My inability to quickly resolve my problems was hell. I was only 8 years old. I had no self-advocating skills and had never heard of depression or anxiety. I had no idea that it was OK to be sad and that I didn’t need to hide my feelings.
Success, I would later learn, was not just up to me. It would be up to my parents and the private school I would be privileged to attend starting in sixth grade. Unfortunately, it’s difficult for a learning disabled student to thrive in a public school, including the respected charter school I attended for five years. I don’t blame my teachers, except for the ones that made me actually cry by forcing me to stand at the blackboard until I could spell a word or compute a math equation. They simply did not have the tools to teach me. To succeed, I needed an encouraging environment and teachers who knew how to help me learn. Thanks to my middle school, which helped me with language-based learning differences, and taught me invaluable lessons, skills, and strategies that I will hold on to for the rest of my life. My dyslexia and hyperactive mind were still a huge part of my battle. But I learned how to read, how to study, how to organize my work, and how to advocate for myself. I took these lessons with me to high school.
Over the last four years at Ren, I have learned to hold my head high and have enough respect for and understanding of myself to fight for what I need. It’s challenging when you – and others – don’t understand how you learn. I’ve learned that sitting in front of the class helps my attentiveness. Extra time on a test helps my processing. Flashcards and a planner help me stay on top of assignments. I have learned how I work, how to ask for help, how to be confident, and how to believe in myself. I now know that I am not “less than.” I just learn a little differently. And that is more than OK.