Pockets in a Well-Pressed Suit- Understanding a Dyslexic Brain

Pockets in a well-pressed suit 

Pockets in a well-pressed suit, they have purpose, they are also stylish. If you were to put anything inside them- they would look different. It would change the dynamic of the jacket or pants. The inside is silky, smooth and rests straight and flat against the skin. This thought, this clear-cut image of a pocket is centralized. It is precise. A reminder that this suit, this well-pressed suit, is more for show than comfortability. These pockets remain empty, they need to be, to keep the stylish look on point. It is both a choice and a forethought. This message of personality is crisp- we each have our own vision of perfection. But, it is this way of thinking, that as a Dyslexic, I somehow lose in translation. I notice these nuances in other people, yet I never seem to hone in on any within myself.

Deep inside a Dyslexic mind, there are compartments, pouches, both protected and convenient. It is constructed, full of inside jacket pockets, that only we know the contents of. They are cozy nooks, in which we place those items, we are confused about or that don’t quite make sense. This way, on the outside we look presentable, fashionable, while on the inside, we may be heavy with the coins, lint and old mints, that we have allowed to collect and fall to the bottom of our pockets, remaining hidden. These incidentals clink and shift becoming distractions. We always have the uncontrollable urge to jiggle them, to remind ourselves, that they are there. Knowing all the while, that they will make us miss something, but we are always controlled, by the mystery of, are they still in my pocket?

Regular to Unleaded

Dyslexia is more than letters and numbers. It goes deeper than forwards and backwards. It resonates in a place, where we see the letters- we hear the word- but it doesn’t register until we discern it, we see the graphic, this is when the word becomes tangible. Yet it doesn’t reach our conscious until later. Everyone else makes sense of it instantly, while we take seconds or minutes longer to fully comprehend the data. It transfers from regular to unleaded only after we can make the connection to prior knowledge. Therefore, I am constantly reading and investigating new strategies. I rely on scaffolding, to make my world make sense.

I grew up with Dyslexia and today, my mind is unique, in the sense of how I interpret the world. I understand things slightly different, then other people. I keep my attire prim and proper, dry-cleaned and impeccable, to blend in with the crowd. I wear the same exterior as most. I am confident in my ensemble. It is a ‘gray flannel’ habit, as I call it. I never complain or ask for anyone to repeat something. I simply adapt, to the speed and dialect. This is the Dyslexic mind of an adult, we listen, we catalogue, we add the information to our mental bulletin board. This is how we function in the world- we visualize, we blend, and we make mental mind maps trying to stay above water, all the time.

The brain is synapses, neurons and electrical pulses zooming around- some hit their mark instantaneously, while others misfire, get delayed, and cause a slowing of action. Our brains must make split second decisions- we need a foundation, both visual and meaningful, on which to derive our next operation, our next response. If we need to stop and make sense of the order, frequency and direction of sounds and symbols, our whole process of delivery becomes sluggish. The deliberateness is the same, but the speed of accuracy is gradual, not steep and sudden. This is Dyslexia.

As a child, I would watch Sesame Street, I loved this show. But, it did not help me to read, like it did for other children. Those segments where they sounded out words- Ca….T…CAT- I heard Ca..T..Tac. So, when a fuzzy, fluffy cat appeared on the screen, I didn’t make the connection. I didn’t know what a tac was, so it left me confused. I knew what a cat was, I enjoyed seeing the cat, but I didn’t learn to spell cat from the segment, thus my reading did not improve. In other words, I missed the visual image. I misfired on the connection, making reading even harder for me to master. What started as a nightmare, became easier and finally I learned to read, albeit, much later than my peers. Now, as an adult, it is one of my favorite things to do. But, for many of our students, the nightmare is still very much alive and set on a loop.

The Approach

As a child, all I knew was that I didn’t understand things as fast as other children my age. I felt stupid. This made me insecure and very withdrawn. But, by the time I reached middle school, they had diagnosed me with Dyslexia and the haze of why, began to clear and a new layer of how, rolled in and surrounded me. How do I make my brain do what I need it to do? Adults had their strategies, but they rarely worked. I knew then, that I had to develop my own approach, so I did, but it took years to implement it fully.

I felt awkward and embarrassed. This caused depression. A feeling I struggle with even as an adult. But coping with these feeling of shame, has become easier. Rather than be judged, as most students with Dyslexia will tell you, they “fake it till they make it.” They too, form “gray flannel” habits. But, what they need to do is embrace the struggle. Now I can only speak for myself and my struggles with Dyslexia, but any learning disability or social hindrance needs this same commitment. It takes a long time to accept the deficiency, as a part of your machinery, an aspect of you and not some punishment placed upon you. I no longer see the ‘hiccup in my brain’ I lovingly call it, as anything but a layer of my personality, an aspect of my persona.

Once I acknowledged Dyslexia as a limb, another appendage, another part of my whole, it was no longer a distant deficiency, but impulses, neurons, brain waves. When I feel the clink in my pocket, I say “I accept this challenge, I will overcome the side effects, I will embrace the potholes and speed bumps.” These hindrances force me to slow down and evaluate the consequences of my actions. They keep me mindful. When I was younger, I could not understand my disability, I felt cursed, exiled. I refused to do my homework. I didn’t know how to conquer the struggles, instead I let them bury me. This happens to a lot of children dealing with Dyslexia and other learning disabilities. But, once they feel a connection, heard, understood- they feel liberated. As educators, we need to help students liberate themselves from the shackles of doubt and fear, surrounding learning disabilities.

How? Try to see the world from their perspective- understand that sometimes they see and hear tac rather than cat. Help them visualize, make connections, scaffold for themselves. Show them, do not tell them. Pause, let them process. Listen, they will ask questions, in their own way, maybe even with a facial expression and not words. Dyslexia is all about visualization- so often, it is by their actions, by their lack of words, where everything becomes clear. You must observe, listen and guide. Rather than take notes, let them listen. Give them a copy of notes. They have great memories, they just don’t have the speed of comprehension. This doesn’t mean they won’t get it. It just means they need a pause, to get the order right. But once they do, the change, lint and old mints, deep in their pockets, will become less of a distraction and the pockets of their well-pressed suit, will become functionable as well as fashionable.