I have struggled today to think of what only my family understands about me and I have to say, I couldn’t think of a thing. I mean, I’m kind of an open book. I asked hubby and even my mom and they thought the same—nope, what you see with Dee is what you get. Nothing special to understand there. I’m not sure if I’m pleased or ticked, but it is what it is. Still, my husband Jack is in a position to fit this topic.
Where I had polio as a baby, Jack had dyslexia. Two very different problems but both crippling in their own ways. With polio, I grew up having surgeries, limping, and wearing braces. My difficulties were easy to see. People quickly made my way easier because my problems were clear. Jack, on the other hand, suffered under the opposite perspective.
When we were in school, dyslexia wasn’t recognized as a learning difficulty. If you couldn’t read it was because you weren’t trying hard enough, you 
weren’t reading enough, you were lazy or stupid. Jack’s teachers said as much about him in his classes. His problem was not plain to anyone looking at him. He looked sweet as an angel, but normal. Without some physical sign, there was nothing wrong. At least, that’s what people thought. So while I was given a pass for not being able to run, Jack was not given a pass for not being able to read.
That brings me to the topic of our blog post. No one but Jack’s family—and most particular, his mother—understood how hard he tried to do the things his teachers asked of him. Only his family knew the extra hours he put in studying, how lost he felt when he didn’t understand why he didn’t see the
same things the other kids did, or how much hurt he bottled up inside. His mom tried so hard to help him but didn’t know exactly what to do to make things better. Later, she gained her master’s degree in education with a specialty in reading so she could help other kids with Jack’s problem, so some good came of his hard time growing up. And as his family now, only I truly understand his pride in finishing his degree summa cum laude. It was a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of him.
All of his feelings about school were impossible to explain to friends. Beyond his actual physical disability, years of trying and failing to succeed at schooling takes a psychological toll, too. But that’s what family is for, right? To support and be there when no one else understands what’s going on in your life?
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!
Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!
You highlighted the difference in disabilities very well. When we see a disability, we understand and sympathise and offer help. When its not visible, its fair game. When my dad was about twelve his hearing began to deteriorate. He was punished at school for not paying attention and told he was thick headed and dense. In those days, as with your Jack at school, there was no understanding or compassion. All credit to Jack for overcoming his dyslexia with determination and persistence.
Thank you, Jan! He was ridiculed by teachers shamelessly and he finally just gave up. He had strong parents, though, and of course a wonderful wife. 😉
Its great he overcame his difficulties.
I agree! Thanks, Cathy!
What an inspiring story about overcoming a “hidden” disability.
Thanks, Holly. I love the big lug and think he’s brilliant so it breaks my heart knowing what all he went through. But he prevailed. 😉
An excellent article, Dee. Today’s special education laws are not perfect, but they ensure that students like your husband have the chance for a correct diagnosis and the support they need in school. Still, parents must be strong advocates for their special-needs kids. I’m so glad your husband persevered and that his mother did too.
My high school boyfriend suffered from vision problems caused by a “lazy eye.” Back in the late 1960s, his elementary teachers assumed he belonged in special education classes for his learning problems, all of which stemmed from the fact that he could barely see. Several surgeries later, the problem was corrected.
Learning disabilities are recognized more now, that’s true, almost to the point of being too much. My last year of teaching, it seemed every kid in my high school class was on meds for ADHD or something. We need to find a happy medium. Sadira, thank you so much for your comment!
My father had a similar story to your husband regarding a learning disability. Back in the day, there was little help for anyone who didn’t fit inside the box. When I was in grammar school, I was in a “special needs” class because I couldn’t read. The reason? Like Sadira said about her high school boyfriend, I could hardly see. Sadly, the school even had yearly vision tests that I somehow “passed.” Without glasses, I cannot see.
I feel for any child who put out so much effort in school and for whatever reason can’t receive the help they need to succeed. “Fitting in the box” is a great way to describe what most schools are like, and there are a lot of reasons for it. Thanks so much for your comment!