Ed. Note: This guest contributor wishes to remain anonymous and notes he is a highly-trained educator who did not know what his child needed or how to address the challenges.  He regrets he didn’t listen to his wife’s gut earlier.  For far too long, he says, teachers have not been prepared to teach children to read effectively. Teachers are not the problem; they are the solution and need all of our support.

This series is coordinated by Meghann Bierly, a mother of a struggling reader and a school psychologist who advocates for children, families, and educators and is leading an effort to amplify these voices through publication of personal stories Some of the articles are written anonymously, although NJER verifies the accounts and the author’s credentials, including this one.

We wanted to give our son his best chance.

When he was little we did story time, trips to the library, and modeled living a “readerly life.”

He went to preschool for two years.

He had a difficult time with sounds and letters. He didn’t participate much and wasn’t very verbal at school.

Everyone (us included) chalked it up to maturity, being nervous about school, etc.  “He will when he’s ready,” everyone said.

But we thought he was different from other kids and different than our older child.

We requested an evaluation and got an Individualized Education Plan, an IEP. It was determined that he had weaknesses in phonological awareness and working memory.

In kindergarten, he got snap words and leveled text, pattern books. They had Fundations but they also had Units of Study so he wasn’t accessing connected decodable text. The instruction canceled itself out.

In first grade, he received extra instruction in Fountas & Pinnell Leveled Literacy Intervention.

In retrospect, we now know this was one of the worst things we could have allowed because, like our core curriculum, F&P LLI promotes more guessing, cueing, and other “strategies.” Our son needed to learn the sound, the letters, the code. 

We increased reading at home. We must have read “Go Dog, Go” a billion times. He could “read” that book without opening it. Except he couldn’t read the words in isolation.

He was compensating by memorizing and looking at the pictures.

We talked with the school. We trusted the experts. I believed it was developmental, that these things take time.

My wife believed in her gut that something was not right. That he wasn’t learning.

I should have listened to my wife sooner!

By the middle of first grade, our son was a level C. According to our district report card, that’s where you should be at the end of kindergarten. No growth in half a year.

Worse, our son hated to read. He would try anyway. He tried so hard. “Why can’t I do this?” he must have wondered. He cried.

Imagine that, a child crying when you take out a book and not wanting to read – because he CAN’T.

His teachers noticed he wasn’t engaged in the lessons. Of course he wasn’t engaged. It’s not very engaging when you’re being taught in a way that is not appropriate for your needs.

Note: I don’t blame the teachers. They’re doing the best they can with the resources and training they have. They care! But their hands are completely tied by their training, curriculum, and resources they are told are effective and told to implement.

We saw @BerrinchudaM “the purple challenge.” We thought, “it’s the way he’s being taught.” I came across @ParkerPhonics and @OurDyslexicKids and @KJWinEducation and found @DDNJ12 and @PamelaSnow2 and @GaabLab and many others.

We did more testing. The result: “characteristics of dyslexia.”

To us the label doesn’t matter. Our son was struggling and he needed different instruction, evidence-based, effective instruction. That’s the bottom line.

But the word dyslexia also tells us that our son maybe sees the world a little differently. It bonds our son and our family to a community of incredible people. 

It also comes with a huge body of evidence for what works.

We got a tutor. Not everyone can, but we were blessed to do so. She worked with our son virtually, using the Orton-Gillingham method for an hour a day, twice a week.

He started learning. It made sense! It was fun! 

Ya’ll, success is so much fun!!

He’s smiling again. He’s excited for tutoring time (most days, that is).

He’s becoming a really good speller, giving his big brother a run for his money in that regard. 

He asks if he can play organized sports. He’s always been athletic but he never wanted to join a team before.

We encourage him to own who he is by telling him stories of other dyslexic people. We want him to be proud of what makes him different and understand he’s not alone.

We want him to understand that he is smart. He is capable. He just needs to be taught the way he needs to be taught – with direct, explicit, effective instruction. 

Which, by the way, would be helpful for all children: Meeting the Challenges of Early Literacy Phonics Instruction.

Parent: “How do you feel with your tutor?”

Child: “Good! ”

Parent: “Does it feel like it makes sense and it’s easy?”

Child: “Yes!”

When he started 2nd grade, we were told he was a level L. He went from end of kindergarten level C to middle of second grade level L in 5 months of virtual tutoring.

One day, he brought home a book from the library, one of the “Fly Guy” series.

“Dad, look at this book! Can I read it to you?”

That was the first time he ever asked if he could read a book to us, a book he could really read, not one he has simply memorized.

Because now, HE CAN.

What worked for our son? The explicit, systematic, cumulative, multi sensory instruction that benefits ALL children.

ALL children deserve what they need to become readers.

They CAN be taught.

Our son may carry the weight of his early struggles his entire life. It’s a part of his identity now. 

We hope he also now knows how smart and capable he truly is, and there are so many successful people just like him. We tell him every day.

What about other children in our community who struggle to read?

This requires urgency.

The dyslexia community knows what works. We know the research. Please listen to us!

The window is small. The need is great.

Trust your gut.

Don’t wait.