Sharing our expertise and providing strength-based support, information, and creative approach to advocacy for the dyslexia community.

The Dyslexia Project
a 501 (c)(3)
Federal ID #83-1968155

Blog

Director of The Dyslexia Project, Cheri Rae, shares information and insights about programs and parenting, research and legislation, advocacy and networking opportunities to create dyslexia success.

  • Dear Mother in DyslexiaLand

    Dear Mother in DyslexiaLand:

    Welcome to the powerful sisterhood of mothers of amazing children who have dyslexia.

    It’s a big, strong network of wonderful and determined women with bright, creative, interesting, talented and inquisitive children who struggle in school because their differently wired dyslexic brain makes it difficult to read, write and spell.

    These print-related skills have been deemed essential in the classroom, and students with dyslexia just don’t seem to fit in, even though they are very smart.

    You may feel like you don’t either. And you’re tired of asking questions that never get a direct answer; fighting for appropriate approaches to your child’s education; and attending meetings where you just seem to get the run-around.

    You want better for your child and for yourself. And you should get it. In fact, your child is entitled by law for a Free Appropriate Public Education. It’s the Appropriate part that always seems to be the sticking point. It often seems like there’s so much official confusion about dyslexia that there is no Appropriate education for students who have it.

    Don’t be fooled. You’re smart enough to know better, but just don’t seem to know where to turn.

    Here’s the honest truth: In fact, there is Appropriate education for a student with dyslexia; we just don’t see it much in most schools, public or private.

    And the sad part is that researchers way back in the 1930s figured out that students with this distinctive learning style need a very specific approach to reading: It’s known as Orton-Gillingham. But you won’t often hear those words in any school, unless it’s a special school designed for students with dyslexia.

    The teachers, special educators and even the administrators at your school—or even at your school district—may not even be familiar with this structured type of reading program that is direct, structured, sequential, evidence-based, multi-sensory, and most important, effective. Or they may deny that it’s effective, preferring a product sold to the school district that comes in a nice boxed set.

    It’s OK. They don’t know and were never taught about this. But now that you know, you will learn more, you will spread the word, and your child—and others—will get that elusive Appropriate education.

    But the truth is, you may not get it in school: You may have to find (and yes, pay for)  well-trained and very knowledgeable professionals to provide proper reading instruction and approaches to education for your child with dyslexia.

    Up until now, you may have had a feeling of isolation, figuring you’re the only mother trying to figure this out. That isolation might be fostered by the culture of the schools, where administrators’ worries about confidentiality and privacy seem to extend beyond common sense. In the schools it’s every family for themselves.

    There may be another motive: When parents get together and talk, they share information, and understanding about what works and what doesn’t. In that sharing, they may even develop strategies and realize there is strength in numbers, and in speaking out.

    Truly you are not alone: You are one in a long line of women stretched over many decades, women who have lain awake at night, trying to understand their child’s unexpected school struggles, haunted by questions about their child’s past, present and future: What could you have done differently? What do you do now? How will your child be successful in the years to come?

    You would do anything to protect your young one from the sadness, the unfairness, the humiliation and feeling of shame and incompetence that typically accompany dyslexia in school.

    You may not have known which way to turn, where to get help, or how to find the support you need.

    Sister, you have arrived. You will find your way. And you will find help along the way—just like so many other mothers who started out where you are, feeling lonely, exhausted and afraid.

    Right now you just don’t know what you don’t know. But you will learn as long as you’re committed to the notion that your dyslexic child’s education depends on you. Not the school. It really is up to you. It’s a challenge and an amazing opportunity for to become the kind of mother you are meant to be: Strong. Informed. Unstoppable.

    It’s tough being a stranger in a strange land, without a guide, not knowing the terrain, the rules, the language. You can learn to navigate this territory successfully, but you are going to have to work hard to acclimate yourself and learn the lessons you need to know.

    Time to get started: Give yourself credit for figuring out that your child’s struggles are due to dyslexia. Say the “D” word—dyslexia—again and again until you say it with ease.

    All those syllables and odd letters configured together that mean “Trouble with words.” Say “Diss Lexx EEE YAAA. Diss Lexx EEE YAAA.” Get comfortable saying it because you will be saying it a lot for years to come: “Diss Lexxx EEE YAAA.”

    Dyslexia is the word that’s been used for more than a century, so I don’t think it’s going to change anytime soon. And it’s better than “word blindness,” which was the term used a century ago. Yes, it comes from a negative place that ignores the positive aspects of dyslexia.

    I wish we called kids with dyslexia something like “superkids” or “amazing thinkers” or “the creative class.” For there are plenty of positives and obvious strengths that are also part of dyslexia: Characteristics like 3-D, big-picture thinking; creative problem-solving; and hands-on learning; along with well-developed senses of intuition, compassion, empathy.

    That’s the good stuff that comes with dyslexia, and frankly, we ought to recognize, celebrate and support its strengths, instead of focus so intently on its weaknesses.

    If anyone suggests to you that using the word dyslexia is “labeling” your child and will have a negative effect, simply smile and say “Thank you.” And don’t buy into it. Trust that knowledge is power. And relief. Knowing the cause of your child’s struggles is the first step to addressing them properly, providing a pathway to success where previously there was a downward spiral of confusion and despair.

    And go ahead and acknowledge that you’ve already absorbed plenty of hurt by the time you have arrived here. You realize you’ve been misled by educators you trusted, They probably told you to wait, to relax, to calm down, not to worry.

    “Not to worry!” You want to shriek at them. “That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your child who cries over breakfast; weeps doing homework; trudges to class; makes claims of stomachaches, headaches, earaches, anything, anything to get out of going to school.

    Brava, mama, for knowing your child.Brava for listening to your inner voice that is speaking, crying, yelling at you day and night. You know when something is wrong, terribly wrong—not with your child, but with the school system that grinds your child up and wears your child down.

    You are right.

    It’s not supposed to be like this: School is supposed to be where all children are welcome and taught in the way they learn. And Childhood is supposed to be fun. Far too often, children with dyslexia experience none of that. Their teachers may not realize how smart they are; their classmates may ridicule and bully them.

    School is supposed to be a safe place for children—all children, no matter how they learn. And when it’s not, your sense of betrayal is real. And appropriate. Unfortunately, it frequently leads to anger, if not outrage: The people telling you to relax and be patient are responsible for educating your child. And, no matter what they say, you know when they’re not doing what they’re supposed to be doing.

    Go ahead and feel those feelings of betrayal, anger and outrage, but keep them at home. Use those strong emotions for motivation, but do not let them override your sense of reason when you seek help for your child. Your goal is to get your child in a place of strength and empowerment at school—expressions of overwhelming anger and negativity toward individuals and the bureaucracies they support will likely take you off path and away from getting the help you and your child need to move forward.

    A word of advice: Please, stop blaming yourself. We mothers take the blame for everything that goes wrong in the life of our child, and rarely, if ever, take the credit for what goes right. Your child’s dyslexia has nothing to do with the amount of reading you did when your child was an infant; nothing to do with how soon you began singing the ABC song, nothing to do with how many rhyming games you played.

    Your child’s dyslexia is hard-wired in the brain, and grounded in DNA—and it’s a characteristic that has likely been with humans since the dawn of creation. But in a pre-literate society, dyslexia was never noticed, except for its positive attributes: pathfinders, storytellers, stealth hunters and smart strategists, shamans and medicine men and women were all likely right-brained, outside-the-box thinkers.

    In more modern times, scientists and inventors in a long line of brilliant innovators from Leonardo da Vinci to Steve Jobs.

    Here’s the deal: YOU are the one who will make the difference in your child’s life. Just like Thomas Edison’s mother, Nancy Matthews Elliott. As the story goes, third-grader Thomas came home from school with a note from the teacher that read: Your son is addled. We won’t let him come to school any more.

    But what she read aloud to Thomas was: Your son is a genius. This school is too small for him and doesn’t have enough good teachers for training him. Please teach him yourself.Historians debate the veracity of the story, but the inspiration remains. And late in life, Edison wrote in his diary, Thomas Alva Edison was an addled child that, by a hero mother, became the genius of the century. 

     And he famously said, “My mother was the making of me. She was so true, so sure of me, and I felt I had some one to live for, some one I must not disappoint.“

    Other famous individuals with dyslexia who have credited their mothers with their success, include Shark Tank’s Daymond John and Barbara Corcoran; actors Channing Tatum and Keira Knightly; and athletes Mohammed Ali and Tim Tebow.

    You can do this. You will do this. You have support for your work. It will take time, more than you ever imagined; a major commitment to stretch beyond your comfort level; and determination to keep going even when it all seems overwhelming to you.

    I was where you are now, with my smart little boy who was so bewildered when school wasn’t turning out the way we all thought it would; When he was devastated by the neighbor kid who told him “Maybe you can hit a home run, but at least I can read.” When he balked at worksheets, and refused to submit to more special education testing that dug deep into his brain and made him feel like a failure for not measuring up to his high standards.

    That little boy graduated from high school with honors; took a gap year filled with travel adventures, internships, well-paying jobs—and most importantly, a time of self-discovery and confidence rebuilt outside of the classroom. After that year of growing-up time away from school, he decided to take classes at the local community college—classes that interested him, instead of being told what he had to learn. Most importantly, he emerged from those 13 long years of school with his imagination, his creativity and his self-esteem intact.

    Sometime along that long slog through public school, I realized—just as you will—that school officials were not the keepers of the knowledge—and that, in fact, when it came to the specifics about dyslexia, I often knew much more than they did. No disrespect intended here, just the acknowledgement of reality. This understanding helped empower me, helped me develop a couple of mantras to guide us along the pathway.

    I share them here with you in hope that they will help you, too. If these don’t fit, create your own, and keep them top of mind.

    The first was“Go where the love is.” No longer would I spend an inordinate amount of time with a teacher who just didn’t get it, and obviously had no intention of learning. It’s pretty easy to tell from the dismissive tone of an e-mail where the teacher sniffs, “I know you have been a tenacious advocate for your son, but this is a rigorous class.” This was not going to turn out well, and an immediate transfer to a class with a more understanding teacher was in order.

    The other was “I don’t care what you teach him, just don’t hurt him.” Seriously. I figured his father and I could supplement any classroom lessons deemed important for his grade level. But emotional damage—the kind that lasts a lifetime–was something else again, and it could come from anywhere, any day when least expected.

    So here’s my final piece of advice: Realize that you’re in this for the long haul, and that while teachers may like your child, you love your child. Be guided by that love and your own inner knowledge of what’s right and act accordingly. Develop positive relationships with whomever you can in the school, on the school board, in the school district. Network with others in real life and on social media. It will make your life easier, especially in those times when you might need an ally. Learn everything you can about dyslexia, and share your knowledge with others to help make their lives better. Above all, cherish the opportunity to step up, speak out and take care of your child—and the children of other mothers—who have dyslexia.

    If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a sisterhood of understanding mothers to raise a child with dyslexia. You are blessed to have this special opportunity to nurture and develop a person—in such amazing company—with so much promise to make a positive difference in the world. Go for it momma!

    With love,

    Cheri Rae

    Mother of a 20-year-old son with dyslexia

    Author, DyslexiaLand

  • Dear Dyslexia

    Dear Dyslexia,

    It’s been more than a decade since we first met. Oh, yes, I caught fleeting glimpses of you years before we were formally introduced, but I didn’t know how to recognize you.

    Long before my little boy was expected to effortlessly decipher words on a page, there were ghostly, momentary clues that just seemed like parts of my son’s personality unfolding. I didn’t know that when strung together they added up to reveal it was you, Dyslexia, in his intriguing brain.

    • When he snuggled in to hear storybooks, he never cared about the words on the pages;
    • When concepts like yesterday, today and tomorrow just dragged him down;
    • When remembering the days of the week, or the months of the year, how to spell his name or recite the alphabet never seemed to matter much to him;
    • When tying his shoes and knowing left from right seemed impossible tasks. 

    I delighted in all aspects of him, Dyslexia, but didn’t know that these positive attributes, too were related to you:

    • His out-of-the-box creative thinking;
    • His ability to take things apart and put them back together;
    • The wonderful way he could put words together, speaking in a way that would touch the heart and show his spirit in ways that can never be learned from a book; *How his curiosity practically outlined his strong active body and vibrated like an energy field.

    He always had an uncanny ability to navigate in the real world, remembering the way back on every hike, and in the complex world of human emotion, displaying kindness, empathy and insight far beyond his few years. After his first ride on a roller coaster he enthusiastically recreated the complex configuration, tracing every dip, curve loop with his fingers in the air. With his obvious intelligence and excitement about the world around him, we confidently sent him off to school with great expectations.

    They were soon crushed.

    I wish I had understood sooner it was you lurking about, stealing his confidence and undermining his joy in school.

    “If only I’d known then what I know now.”

    How often do parents say that about you, Dyslexia? Is it every single one of the parents of the 1 in 5 children with dyslexia? That would mean there are millions of parents now looking back and beating themselves up about then.

    That coulda-woulda-shoulda nagging feeling that now every minute counts since we lost so very much time we can never make up. Looking back and wishing the timing was different does little good now; perhaps the gift is to pass along some little wisdom to other parents who may be making your acquaintance, but not even realizing it.

    But I digress.

    You, Dyslexia, began to show your power to separate my child from his friends in school. They continued their joyful exploration, while he experienced woeful frustration in the classroom, where he academic tasks repeatedly revealed his weaknesses in memory, processing, and most of all, reading. The light dimmed in our darling, accomplished and enthusiastic little guy.

    In kindergarten.

    “Oh, He’s just all boy,” teachers said about his struggles. “Don’t worry, he’s a late bloomer.”  

    First grade, second grade, third grade:  “Just be patient,” teachers said as he fell behind his classmates, as his joy at school extended only to his time outside the classroom—playing on the playground, digging in the garden, hanging out with his friends. “I’m sure he will catch up.”

    What if he doesn’t? I worried.

    Homework was a struggle, reading a mystery. Still no one uttered your name.

    Finally, the principal of the school told us we could address our longstanding concerns with a Written Testing Request for him to have his academic performance evaluated, his mental, social and emotional fitness determined. He would be examined to find out what was wrong with him because he didn’t fit into school.

    After months of scheduling and testing and waiting, he was declared Disabled.

    The Official Report indicated Specific Learning Disability with issues in Memory Processing, Auditory Processing, Sequencing and more. What it all meant remained a scary mystery. I’d never heard these words, never heard of these conditions. There was something terribly wrong with his brain that would limit him in his ability to learn to read, write, spell, do math or ever function efficiently in the world. Forget what we thought was his potential promise; it would not be fulfilled. It was agonizing to feel that this beautiful boy was so limited. But the experts had spoken and we believed them.

    And Dyslexia, you were never mentioned—instead they called you Specific Learning Disability, the qualifier for Special Education.

    Every day he dutifully left his classroom and his classmates and reported to the Learning Center where nothing much happened in the way of improving his skills in reading, writing or spelling, or his difficulties in processing. Twice a week he also worked with a private tutor—a former teacher—who finally admitted she was as baffled as we were about his difficulties in mastering academics. Every year, while his friends went off to camp, he stayed behind and attended summer school. It didn’t help either.

    This went on for years while we agonized over his lack of progress in view of his obvious intelligence, and what we thought was adequate intervention. He was stuck in place in school, while soaring outside of it. We were baffled, fearful, confused, and no one in the school system seemed to be able to help him do any better.

    His fifth-grade teacher had a bit of a clue, remarking during a parent-teacher conference “His written work in no way reflects his knowledge or his abilities. It’s like there’s a block between his brain and his fingers.”

    That kind and caring teacher didn’t know enough about you, Dyslexia, or your cousins Dysgraphia and Dyscalculia, to make a proper introduction. No one in the school did. But as your presence grew stronger, so did our worry.

    We spent many sleepless nights wondering what would happen to our charming and talented boy if he never learned to read, which seemed a distinct possibility. He grew older, taller, and brighter outside of school, accomplished as an athlete, a good friend, and a good thinker.

    Despite those daily special education services at school, the private tutoring intervention and the extra help at home, reading wasn’t happening. And didn’t seem like it ever would. But it wasn’t limited to reading: Spelling was a nightmare, and learning the multiplication table seemed impossible.

    This Specific Learning Disability was a tough one, we admitted. Despite everything we knew to try, it was stronger than Public Education. And in a time of No Child Left Behind, our boy was left in the dust of high expectations without institutional supports.

    And then the unexpected happened. I attended a seminar to support a friend who needed as many people in the seats as possible. Walking in, I knew nothing about either one; walking out, I knew everything I needed to know to learn exactly what I needed to learn.

    It was a talk about Dyslexia, featuring a high-energy young man, Jonathan Mooney. He was articulate, funny, smart—a graduate of Brown University, no less. He paced across the stage and described his early struggles in school—how reading out loud was so stressful; how he needed mental health days to cope with the pressure, how he looked for any excuse to avoid reading and get out of class. He said that students like him were judged to fit into three categories: “Stupid, crazy, lazy.” His description of his experiences in the classroom sounded so familiar that I imagined that my own son in 20, 30 years could be him. 

    He used the word Dyslexia. Not Specific Learning Disability. Dyslexia. That one word made all the difference. Meeting you, Dyslexia, finally learning your name—that which shall not be spoken on school grounds—changed our lives forever.  

    When we lifted the mysterious veil that surrounded you, we moved from a place of confusion and confounding to one of understanding and intrigue: So much to learn about; so many ways to help our boy.

    Here’s the bottom line: It took lots of money, time and patience for him to learn to read. And it didn’t happen in public school. Instead, he learned to read when he was in seventh grade, achieving only a second-grade reading level after all those years in public school.

    But in a private center, featuring one-on-one teaching of an expensive, scientifically proven, sequential, structured, multi-sensory, one-on-one, highly effective reading process, he learned to read. Immediately. With that intensive intervention, he made progress within weeks, and made up five years of reading deficits in a few months. It was neither a fluke nor a miracle; it was simply getting the right approach to reading after years of sitting in place with ineffective programs and with teachers who had no idea how to teach this boy.

    Or anyone else like him. And it turns out, that numbers 1 in 5. Yes, Dyslexia, you’re pretty popular, just very misunderstood.

    Learning to read was just the first step to this new sense of empowerment in school as we learned more about you, Dyslexia, and searched the Internet for everything we could find on the subject. And it was a lot. Too much, in fact to keep our heads from swirling with new information but our hearts were reassured with possibilities—and for the first time, hope.

    Back at school we developed a new vocabulary: Remediation; accommodations; project-based learning; focus on strengths and co-teaching became our buzzwords. “I don’t care what you teach him, just don’t hurt him” became my mantra. “Go where they love is” was the slogan we used when encountering a teacher who would not bend. It was easier to make a change than fight all semester long.

    This family now knows more you, Dyslexia, than teachers, administrators and policy-making politicians do. And with that knowledge, we have earned a seat at the table, a place in the community, to make that important introduction to you, Dyslexia, to provide awareness, resources—and an action plan.

    You hide in mystery, Dyslexia, but in reality, you’re not that mysterious at all. In fact, you’re easy to spot when one knows the signs. You’re actually quite the Trickster, hiding in plain sight, almost taunting the unsuspecting to figure you out. And there are plenty of researchers across the nation working diligently to do just that. So much research, but so little of it is embraced by educators or applied in the typical classroom.

    After years of focused work by our entire family, our beautiful, kind, creative, industrious boy, graduated from high school—with honors, a four-year college scholarship and a feeling of great relief. He now makes his way in the world, finally free of the sense of continuous failure in public school—let’s face it—a place where he never belonged.

    And here’s what he can do: Hike the John Muir Trail; ride a mountain bike in the Canadian Rockies; build an Adirondack chair; wire a lamp, barbeque a tri-tip; work as a car mechanic; engineer a backyard fire pit; support a friend through an emergency room visit; hit a baseball out of the park; learn skills by watching any number of You Tube videos, Ted Talks and TV shows (“Treehouse Masters” or “Fast and Loud” anyone?); maintain friendships over time and distance; treat adults with respect and appreciation; videotape an award-winning presentation; master FileCut Pro; drive a stick shift; build a backyard fence; plan and landscape a drought-resistant succulent garden; apprentice himself to any number of successful entrepreneurs; make a case for just about anything he wants, using reason and charm; flip a car for ten times what he invested in it; plan any number of fun activities with his friends. Works harder than any other student in his college classes and on the baseball field. And in the work world, he is settled into a career where his people skills, excellent memory, persistence, teamwork, and determination make all the difference. This mama who once worried about her child ever getting a job now listens to him complain about the taxes he has to pay on his salary she only wished she ever earned…

    He can do this, Dyslexia, because he now owns you. Understands you. Explains you. Embraces you. Works around you.

    And more. So much more.

    And this is what he doesn’t do: Spell. Write much. Read what doesn’t matter to him. As he puts it: “I don’t want to be bothered by words and sentences and paragraphs and books and essays. I just don’t do them.”

    Dyslexia, we have welcomed you into our lives and our family, and share your attributes with everyone we know. No longer a stranger in our midst, you’re now a familiar presence we embrace with ease. Most importantly, we’ve introduced you in all your ways to our bright and wonderful young man who embodies your characteristic strengths and weaknesses. A young man now, he understands how to communicate your presence in his life with others who may not know about you. When my son says, “I have Dyslexia,” you should be proud. As we are.  He is who he is because of you, Dyslexia, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

    Respectfully,

    Dyslexia Warrior Mom

  • The Incredible Loneliness of the Dyslexia Mom…But You Are Not Alone

    By Cheri Rae

    This afternoon, I placed my lunch order for a Cobb salad at my favorite sandwich shop.

    While I waited for it, Florence and the Machine’s “Dog Days are Over” blasted over the sound system. Hearing the catchy, upbeat tune, the first thing that popped into my mind was, “Oh, yes, Florence Welsh is dyslexic.” The next thing that popped into my mind, as I kept time and watched the staff bop along to the song was, “I bet I am the only one in here who knows that.”

    And then I thought about all the other stuff I know about dyslexia that sticks in my head and comes out in the most unexpected times and ways. When my dad and I watched “Patton” I told him that the famed general was dyslexic. When my friend posted her admiration of Antonio Gaudi, I mentioned that the brilliant artist/architect was dyslexic. When I spoke with the executive director of an education nonprofit, I confirmed that a local philanthropist is dyslexic.

    This arcane knowledge just sticks in my head and pops up when least expected. But this kind of depth about dyslexia, after so many years as a determined advocate, goes far beyond identifying famous dyslexics. It extends to approaches to reading, local and national literacy statistics, frustration over the lack of institutional change over time, the concept of literacy as a civil right and an issue of equity, the articles, charts, research, videos and books that best explain various aspects of what can be done to improve the lives of dyslexics.

    Like so many parent-advocates, I’ve endured the eye-rolls from educators who make comments like “I’ve never had a student with dyslexia, so you’ll have to give me some information.” I’ve had a superintendent tell me, “Students with dyslexia just have to learn how to suck it up.” And I’ve even had friends who have questioned accommodations, asking, “Don’t you think it’s unfair that your son gets more time, and my son doesn’t?” 

    I’ve learned all about special education and IEPs, and worked hard to get exactly the right wording, the right goals in place, only to have the document ignored by classroom teachers. And my son rebel against having anything to do with special education.

    I’ve attended school board meetings where parents weep as they beg for help for their dyslexic children but after their three minutes are simply dismissed by stone-faced trustees who don’t bother to comment or follow-up. Or learn what they could do to stop the educational struggles of kids in their care. I’ve read the campaign literature that touts the transparency and communication skills of those same trustees running for re-election. So they can continue their same ways for another term and never make any meaningful progress.

    It makes me want to scream out the truth, but no one wants to listen to that.

    We have to be careful, civil, mask our anger with reasonableness, forgo our humiliations, and go along and get along or they won’t listen. But when we are patient and collaborative, they don’t listen to that, either.

    My inbox, phone records and daily journals reflect that I am not alone. Every week, I hear from parents who are stymied by the educational system, feeling so very alone in their journey to understand the numerous complex issues associated with dyslexia, and frankly, in fear for the futures of their children. I share my experiences, provide insights when I can, offer support and a sympathetic ear. I even wrote a book to help other parents.

    We moms of children with dyslexia seek out support anywhere we can. Since the school districts know there is strength in numbers, they work hard to keep us apart, citing confidentiality concerns. But the kids all know who is struggling and who isn’t.

    On social media, we connect with literal strangers far, far away who often understand our concerns better than our real-life friends and members of our own families. We don’t want to talk about dyslexia all the time, but quite honestly, it’s often the most important issue going on in our lives, and we need to unburden our hearts, express our concerns, vent our frustrations at the hands of the education establishment. But even social media has been taken over by groups with agendas not apparent to most who participate. And while social media may connect like-minded people in the virtual world, it’s not likely to have much effect on making much institutional change in our local schools.

    Individually, we seek solace in learning everything we possibly can about supporting dyslexic strengths; all those inspirational success stories about dyslexics who have “made it,” and buy into the notion of dyslexic superpowers. In doing so, we worry if we’re putting too much pressure on our kids, who maybe don’t want to claim superpowers, they just want to be considered typical kids who can just enjoy their childhoods, their classroom experiences and their day-to-day lives.

    My parenting mantra has always been “roots and wings.” Providing that supportive platform for all our kids, including those with dyslexia, so they can fly on their own. I admit to getting a bit research-obsessed about dyslexia, but now that my dyslexic son is an adult, and flying strong and secure on his own ~ after the trials and tribulations of public school ~ I want to offer a little support to those parents on the journey: Go ahead and learn all you can and do all you can about dyslexia, protect your child’s well-being from bureaucratic excesses and know that they will be okay because you are there, a loving, supportive and knowledgeable parent. 

    Yes, it is lonely along the way. But reach out in your community where you find it ~ or create your own. And dance to the music when you hear it. Because, even when you least expect it, it’s there.

  • The Dyslexic Dozen

    This series of graphics was originally inspired by those inspired by the song, “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Instead of a holiday theme, we re-created it to have year-round value and a reminder to celebrate the strengths that are often—but not always—a part of dyslexia, too often unrecognized.

  • Literacy Is For Everyone

    The Dyslexia Project’s: Little Free Library Initiative

    The founder of the Little Free Library program, Todd H. Bol, was dyslexic, and he built the first one as a tribute to his mother who loved to read. His hope was that making books available in these libraries would help children and adults learn to read.

    We have had one of these on our property for many years, and been impressed with the community-building effect they have, with parents, children, students, all members of the neighborhood who enjoy the treasures they find within.

    We were inspired to purchase several of these Little Free Libraries and had one donated to us by an educator who no longer lived in an area where it could be used. We are well-aware that books alone are not enough; struggling readers must be taught to read in the way their brains learn.

    Brightly colored with our logo colors and featuring an inspirational figure (including Kofi Annan, Cesar Chavez, Maya Angelou, Frederick Douglass, Henry David Thoreau, and Morgan Freeman) on each side—with a quote about literacy in English on one side, Spanish on the other—they contain information about where to learn more about dyslexia and literacy, they were placed with enthusiastic stewards in Santa Barbara, Goleta, Carpinteria, and even in one in Northern California.  

    As funding and requests continue, we intend to expand this program of outreach to the community and gain visibility for our dyslexia advocacy work, and creating ever-more awareness about supporting strengths and addressing challenges among struggling readers.

    STORIES:

    Penny

    Penny owned The Earthling Bookshop for nearly 25 years. It was a landmark spot in Santa Barbara, a very special community gathering place and the Little Free Library is a natural way for her to share her love of reading and knowledge about dyslexia with the community. She carefully curates a selection of books for residents of her retirement community—and their grandchildren who come to visit.

    Two in One

    One of our stewards installed this Little Free Library many years ago and asked to have it painted with The Dyslexia Project’s colors to join in the initiative. She then decided to add an additional one, just for children in the neighborhood. Both of them are well-stocked and well-loved.

    Talulah's library

    In Memory

    We were pleased to accept the donation of a hand-built Little Free Library created in memory of the father of a county educator who moved to a remote location and could no longer use it. We knew it was a special one and some months later, learned of the very sad passing of a little 12-year-old who loved to read. Her name was Talulah, and we managed to get the library to her father who placed it on the campus where she had attended school. A fitting tribute to a child gone too soon who continues to inspire others to learn to read.

    Turquoise by Talulah
    Miss Talulah's Library
    Literacy is for everyone

  • When Reading Hurts

    A Mother Learns to Decode Dyslexia with the Help of Her Son and Other Experts

    By Cheri Rae

    My earliest school memory is from Starr King Elementary in Long Beach, California, when the classroom teacher and school librarian selected me to join the accelerated reading club. Our little group met weekly in an airy, sunny room full of books. We must have been smug little show-offs, elevated and admired just because reading came so easily, so naturally. We got to read aloud to the other kids in class, the ones who just couldn’t read as well, who just weren’t as smart.

    Or so we thought.

    Most people believe reading skill reflects intelligence — in essence, you read well if you’re smart, and if you struggle to read, your intelligence just doesn’t quite measure up.

    The corollary is that the obviously smart person who struggles to read just isn’t trying hard enough.

    Both beliefs are wrong.

    When Two Vowels Go Walking

    For my son, reading has been a nightmare — with letters on a page assembled in apparently random patterns with no particular relationship to sound or meaning.

    I never appreciated the gift of easy reading — or the pain, humiliation, embarrassment, and damage to self-esteem associated with reading difficulties — until I woke up to the fact my smart little boy just wasn’t catching on, no matter how hard he worked.

    I had read to him as an infant, a toddler, and throughout his childhood. While he loved hearing stories, he just couldn’t read them on his own when it seemed time for him to master the skill. Listening to him struggle to read aloud was cringe-worthy, difficult, and completely baffling. There was no rhythm, cadence, or apparent understanding of how to sound out a word, no matter how much prompting, review, encouragement, or instruction.

    His relationship to the written word was frightful, what educator Horace Mann described as “skeleton-shaped, bloodless, ghostly apparitions.” He may as well have been trying to decipher Morse code or the Rosetta Stone.

    Nothing seemed to help enhance his reading: not easy-readers in subjects he liked; not summer school enrichment classes or expensive tutoring sessions during the school year; not hours at home drilling with flash cards; not helpful little phrases such as, “when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking.” Not even the promise of a new bike if he finished reading a shelf full of books on his own.

    Finally, in 3rd grade, a battery of tests administered by the school psychologist confirmed that his performance in school did not measure up to his intellectual ability, and he landed in special education classes. He got extra time in class, modified homework, and slowed-down instruction in his school’s Learning Center, but as the clock ticked and years passed, he lagged behind his classmates.

    They were reading to learn, while he was still learning to read.

    They were reading for pleasure, while he was reading in pain.

    Tips for Parents

    1) Push for assessment if you suspect dyslexia or other learning disability; time is of the essence; ask for testing of all suspected disabilities as well as assistive technology.

    2) Learn all you can about the issue, and realize you must advocate for your child.

    3) Bring a knowledgeable advocate (or attorney) to meetings; document everything and keep impeccable records.

    4) Bring to meetings a photo of your child, a statement in your child’s own words, or even a video of your child reading to make your child’s struggle real to decision-makers.

    5) Focus on your child’s strengths: mechanical ability, musical aptitude, sports ability, artistic talent, etc.

    It made no sense to me. The harder he worked at reading, the more frustrated and hopeless he felt — and so did I. He compensated for his lack of reading skills by honing his athletic ones; he became an accomplished baseball player with a natural swing, an accurate arm, and an uncanny ability to track the trajectory of a ball hit to the outfield. The book on him has always been that he is “coachable,” but no amount of coaching in reading ever resulted in any significant gains.

    He had no difficulty learning, just reading the words.

    Sometimes I read stuff twice and it doesn’t make any sense, and I get confused. I have to concentrate so much on the reading in the textbook, I can’t learn what I’m supposed to be learning about. So it takes forever to keep going back and read it again. Then I run out of time and have lots of homework.

    He had no problems comprehending what he heard, just reading out loud.

    When we’re reading out loud in class, I sometimes look at a word and I say what I think it is, then read three more words, and realize it’s wrong. So I go back and say it correctly and then I lose my thought. I don’t really stay on the lines that much. I might get to the end of a sentence, and skip a line and then go back, and I’m all jumbled up and have to stop, and then I feel embarrassed.

    With his keen observational skills, outside-the-box thinking, and easygoing ability to get along with just about everyone, life was pretty easy for him, everywhere but at school. There, success is determined by scores on standardized tests — and his future life chances depend on measuring up.

    By the time he reached 7th grade, with his ability to read lagging far behind, I lay awake nights worried about his past, his present, his future: What had I done wrong? What could I do to help him? What if he never learned to read at all?

    What we needed was a miracle. And after years of searching, hoping, and praying, we finally got one.

    A Mother on a Mission

    On a friend’s recommendation, I phoned the Dyslexia Awareness and Resource Center in Santa Barbara and finally spoke with Joan Esposito, the woman who cofounded the center in 1990.

    After listening patiently to my story about my son’s reading struggles, she interrupted me in her characteristically blunt fashion. “For a smart woman, you have a lot to learn,” she noted. “Your son is dyslexic; that’s all.”

    “No,” I said, “he’s been diagnosed with something called ‘specific learning disability,’ but I don’t know, specifically, what that means. They talk about visual processing and memory issues, but no one has ever suggested he’s dyslexic. Doesn’t that mean he sees letters backwards?”

    Clearly exasperated, she told me that “specific learning disability” is an umbrella term that includes dyslexia — but the word is rarely if ever mentioned in the public schools. Then she ordered me to come to her office as soon as possible, where she planned to set me straight.

    This patron saint of dyslexics maintains a sanctuary in an upstairs office on Carpinteria Street. The walls are lined with framed proclamations signed by distinguished city, county, state, and federal officials commending Esposito for her work — and a dozen inspirational magazine covers, photos of famous dyslexics, and drawings by children expressing their painful reading experiences.

    An article reprinted from Fortune Magazine, “The Dyslexic CEO,” caught my eye; it featured a photo of financial wizard Charles Schwab at age 13 — the same age as my son. It recounted the childhood reading struggles of dozens of other successful entrepreneurs — including Kinko’s Paul Orfalea and Virgin Atlantic Airways’ Richard Branson.

    Their stories were nearly identical to what was going on with my son.

    It was a revelation. I felt like my son and I had arrived at the place we needed to be, and found the person we needed to meet.

    She described how she was always a struggling reader until she was finally diagnosed as dyslexic at the age of 44, as a student at Santa Barbara City College.

    With stunning clarity, she explained dyslexia, a manifestation of a brain neurologically wired to learn differently that may affect up to 20 percent of the population — one in five children and adults. And she noted that approximately 80 percent of the schoolchildren who are diagnosed with learning disabilities may actually be dyslexic.

    She took me by the hand and led me through the unfamiliar territory of learning disabilities, defining a path where before there had been only dead-ends and rocky roads. She pointed me — and my son — in the right direction to get the help he needed.

    She uttered the odd words, “Lindamood-Bell. That’s what he needs, Lindamood-Bell.”

    I had no idea what she was talking about, but listened closely as she explained that Lindamood-Bell is one of several research-based learning programs that rely heavily on one-on-one intensive training that literally rewire the brain’s sensory-cognitive processing ability — and teach dyslexics to read in the exact way their unique brains learn.

    While I didn’t quite understand — or believe her — nothing else had worked. I placed my faith in her convincing words.

    After years of despair, it seemed too much to hope for that such a well thought-out and proven solution outside existed — not in the public-school classroom, but in the stately former home of the St. Vincent’s School and Orphanage on De la Vina Street, home of the Lindamood-Bell Training Center. The director, Janelle Ashby, described the program of instruction — designed to help students develop the mental imagery needed to match sounds to written words. Clearly, my son’s reading struggles were not unique; they just hadn’t been properly addressed.

    Because the school district really has no formalized instruction program geared to the specific needs of a dyslexic student — and a review of assessments over time proved he had made so little progress over so much time — school district officials eventually approved my son’s enrollment in the Lindamood-Bell reading program.

    In the first week, it was obvious that something extraordinary was happening — and it was all good.

    Each subsequent week during the intensive, four-hours-per-day instruction period, we met with one of his specially trained Lindamood-Bell clinicians, a fellow dyslexic named Dana. She proudly showed assessments that indicated his daily progress, growing list of sight words mastered, and reading proficiencies reached.

    After 180 hours of one-on-one instruction, extensive reassessment revealed his word attack skills — a fundamental requirement for reading competence — increased from 2nd-grade level to 8th-grade level. And his oral reading skills increased from 3rd-grade to 7th-grade level.

    Retesting six months later revealed the reading gains had held steady. There are still a few areas of reading weakness that keep his total reading ability a bit below grade level — and need to be addressed — but his reading skills have so significantly improved he can be considered a competent reader for the first time in his life.

    On occasion, he even picks up a book and reads for fun.

    Imagine If You Can

    Early this year, Santa Barbara’s Dyslexia Awareness and Resource Center sponsored its annual conference, featuring a leading expert on learning disabilities, Jonathan Mooney. He movingly revealed his story of undiagnosed dyslexia, depression, and the decision to commit suicide when he was a 6th grader who couldn’t read. He was branded — as so many dyslexics are — as “stupid, crazy, lazy.” With lots of support services, and the development of self-advocacy skills, Mooney overcame all three labels, and graduated with honors from Brown University.

    Mooney, author of two books and founder of project Eye-to-Eye, a mentoring and advocacy nonprofit for students with learning differences, spoke of the need to develop classroom strategies that facilitate, celebrate, and validate different ways of learning. He suggested academic accommodations including the use of audio books, voice-activated software, oral exams, portfolio presentations, and note-takers to assist dyslexics to be successful in their requirement “to play a game not built for you.”

    With all the negativity heard about dyslexia, the great irony is that the pantheon of creative spirits, original thinkers, innovators, and super-achievers is filled with distinguished dyslexics who struggled in school, including some of the smartest people who ever lived: Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison. Add presidents Thomas Jefferson and John F. Kennedy; Steven Spielberg and Steve Jobs; Babe Ruth and Magic Johnson; Goldie Hawn and Whoopi Goldberg; and Santa Barbara’s own Schwab and Orfalea. And just this summer, actor Orlando Bloom announced his dyslexia; and in a touching eulogy delivered by his niece, the dyslexia of the late senator Robert Byrd was also made public.

    You may say I’m a dreamer — John Lennon was dyslexic, too — but I think it’s high time we focus on the positive attributes of dyslexic kids and adults and start regarding them as those who possess the superior minds among us.

    What if progressive educators — and insightful philanthropists — in our community finally realized that it’s time for Santa Barbara to create a model program to teach these kids — far too many of whom are lost these days?

    What if politicians and bureaucrats could finally understand that the cost of not teaching young people to read because they think differently is far greater than the funds required for training teachers and investing in special programs?

    What if we called it the Academy of Auditory Learners or the Center for Dyslexia & Creativity (after Yale’s research center of the same name) and stuffed it full of cutting-edge assistive technology, neuro-educators, and innovative programs geared to the way these brains are wired?

    Now I lay awake at night thinking about a lot of new questions: What would have happened if we had never diagnosed his dyslexia? What if school administrators had not approved the Lindamood-Bell training and he never learned to read in the way he learns? Would he have ended up like so many struggling readers — depressed, angry, and alienated from school? What about all those other kids just like him? I cannot fathom how, in this community that prizes innovation and compassion, we allow one in five children to fall so far behind and suffer so much.

    One in five — that is the estimated number of children in public schools who have some degree of dyslexia. That means that in a typical secondary school classroom of 30 kids, six of them are struggling to keep up — through no fault of their own. Because of the way their brains are wired, the most common teaching practices — taking notes during a lecture, reading off the board, writing essays, reading aloud — are, for kids with dyslexia, pure torture.

    Way back in 1990, there was a Dyslexia Task Force Committee in the Santa Barbara School Districts. It issued a report called the Superintendent’s Study Committee on Dyslexia along with a set of recommendations, including the characteristics of dyslexia, specialized training for teachers, and the development of collaborative partnerships for successful learning for all students. Over time, and a shuffle of administrators, that report has been forgotten.

    It’s time we pull it out again and heed its conclusion: “The emphasis is on providing those who work with dyslexic students resources and expertise for dealing with this debilitating condition which, if untreated, contributes to the growing number of dysfunctional adults.”

    It took a massive effort to get my dyslexic son the reading program that teaches him in the way his brain learns. My hope — no, my expectation — is that we provide every dyslexic student with the same opportunity. Surely we’re smart enough to do that.

    Cheri Rae is a longtime contributor to The Independent and other area publications.

  • Successful with Dyslexia

    At the beginning, many students and their parents can’t imagine being successful with dyslexia.

    Reading was such a pleasure when my son was just a little boy, back in the days when I read aloud, and he delighted in the stories and the brightly colored pictures of Goodnight Moon, The Runaway Bunny, and Owl Babies.

    We laughed and played with words in our collection of Dr. Seuss books—he especially loved Fox in Socks, Hop on Pop, and Go Dog Go. And he was mesmerized hearing the tales of  Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

    But when it came time for him to read, it wasn’t much fun anymore.

    I would read one paragraph, he would stumble over another. He guessed, over-corrected and hesitated. Reading books together changed from a relaxing, bonding experience—in which he always asked for more, and I finally had to end—into a stressful ordeal that made us both uncomfortable and anxious—and could scarcely bear.

    I thought he was just slow to catch on, that reading would come if we just relaxed, trusted that he would make progress, and kept working hard to encourage him.

    After a battery of school testing and my own independent research, I finally realized that the confusing term Specific Learning Disability (SLD) —with the visual, memory and auditory processing issues—was consistent with dyslexia. But no one in the school system ever encouraged us;  they argued over the use of the word, and never suggested that a student with dsylexia could be very successful in life–in and out of school.

    Dyslexia means trouble with words—sounding them out, spelling them and writing them. It also means that the brain is wired a bit differently, making the typical demands of today’s classroom very challenging.

    Where does the mother end and the advocate begin? The lines get blurred all the time for the mother of a child who struggles to read. But getting informed is the best way to get some help.

    Here are some of the most important things parents should know about dyslexia:

    It’s very common. One in five individuals, according to the International Dyslexia Association. Students with Specific Learning Disability typically comprise more than 60 percent of all students receiving Special Education services.

    * It has nothing to do with intelligence.
    * It’s widely misunderstood.
    * It can be the cause of unnecessary difficulty in school.

    Some of the smartest, most innovative people who ever lived have/had dyslexia: from Albert Einstein, Henry Ford, and Thomas Edison to Steve Jobs, Bill Gates and President John F. Kennedy.

    Some of the most creative people who ever lived have/had dyslexia: from Pablo Picasso, Ansel Adams and John Lennon to Stephen Spielberg, Walt Disney and Sir Richard Branson. They were successful with dyslexia–to say the least!

    Yes, it’s a long way from a little third-grader who can’t seem to sound out the words on the page to an international superstar. But here’s the wonderful little secret for parents of a struggling reader, especially one with “Specific Learning Disability” aka Dyslexia to hold onto: it’s about the strengths, not just the weaknesses.

    Characteristic strengths shared by individuals with dyslexia include big-picture, out-of-the box thinking; creativity, strengths in 3-D spatial reasoning; a holistic approach to problem-solving, and plenty of people skills—all of which may lead to great success in life, but not necessarily in the typical school setting.

    And here’s another secret: there’s never been a better time to have dyslexia than right now for a few major reasons:

    Assistive Technology: including the intuitive and tactile the iPad and iPhone; speech-to-text and text-to-speech computer programs; pens that can tape-record a lecture; and computer software that organizes thoughts in visual mind-maps—provide access to information in ways never imagined years ago.

    Research and Resources: the internet makes everything accessible everywhere, from scientific papers to You Tube videos—and there are literally thousands of them dealing with dyslexia.

    Grassroots Movement: Parents are taking it upon themselves to learn all they can about their child’s learning style, and sharing information to help others.  Decoding Dyslexia, which began in New Jersey,  spread across the country to every single state, and inspired the creation of many additional local organizations and nonprofits dedicated to dyslexia.

    For a child with to be successful with dyslexia, What’s a parent to do?

    In school-speak, dyslexia is considered a “learning disability.” But don’t get hung up on labels. If your child is struggling to read, write or spell; if your child experiences significant difficulties with rote memorization or in test taking; if your child can tell a story rich with details, but can only write a few lines; if your child is overwhelmed with too much homework, frustrated by too many math problems and hopeless at trying to take notes in class, it might be time to take action.

    You may request (in writing) your child be tested for all suspected disabilities, which may qualify him or her for Special Education services. In the case of students with SLD/dyslexia, such services would legally entitle the child to accommodations that may include extra time on tests, notes provided, modified homework assignments, preferential seating assignments in class and alternative assessments.

    You may communicate with your child’s teachers and school administrators so that they understand that your child’s learning style and develop a teamwork approach.

    Most importantly, to help your student be successful with dyslexia you must educate yourself about the considerable research and resources that pave the way to the dyslexia success. And encourage your child by providing positive role models with dyslexia, information about how to “own” the learning difference and to pursue talents and special interests—often in the arts, sports or math and science. Be aware that academic struggles in school can lead to emotional difficulties, behavioral issues and a poor self-image.

    Remember, everyone has strengths and weaknesses; and a child can be successful with dyslexia.

    Dyslexia often doesn’t show—but is particularly apparent in the classroom where standardization is becoming the norm. Heed the message of Albert Einstein who noted: “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

    That, from one of the smartest people who ever lived—who also happened to have dyslexia; it didn’t seem to get in his way. In fact, it was the secret to his success.

  • Dyslexia Project Testimonials

    Dyslexia Project Testimonials and praise has come in many forms and in several media. But really, the most meaningful testaments to our effectiveness come from the thank-yous from students with dyslexia (and their parents). It’s been a pleasure to serve you.

    “Yeah!! You are getting it done! I bought copies of ‘DyslexiaLand’ to share with my niece and with friends who have children with dyslexia. Thanks for all your great work!”

    —Lynn Rodriguez, former School Board member, SBUSD

    “Amazing how far we’ve (you’ve) come since those incredibly painful IEPs of 5 years ago and farther back. I’m proud to have been around to witness the changes that have occurred. Literally from tears to cheers. Thank you for fighting for our children.”

    —David Archer, teacher

    “Thanks for the way you’ve helped paved the way in Santa Barbara for kids like Lana. You’re doing essential, heroic work.”

    —Jen Lilienstein, Parent

    “The Parent Resource Center is the best center of its kind I’ve ever seen and I commend you on your leadership. Cheri, you’re our North Star of Dyslexia.”

    —John Rodrigues, dyslexia advocate, author, High School Dropout to Harvard

    “Thank you again for everything, Cheri. You have no idea all that you have inspired in me. You’ve taught me to more effectively advocate for my children.”

    —Tracy Gillette, Parent & Ph.D. Candidate, Pacifica

    “I really enjoyed having Daniel in class this year, a great kid. Also, I appreciated learning a lot about children with dyslexia and it’s helped me help other students with Dyslexia as well. Thank you for opening my eyes up to this world.”

    —Jenn Fastman, teacher

    “Thank you for all that you are doing giving a voice to unique people with special learning abilities.”

    —Paul Zink, Architect

  • Dyslexia 101 as easy as ABC Dyslexia

    It’s time for some lessons in Dyslexia 101 as easy as ABC Dyslexia. Every school year seems to pass more quickly that the last one. By mid-January, it is more than half over; the irst semester report cards are issued with grades that  entered into the “permanent record.”

    Some of those grades reflect the amount of understanding of the material and the amount of effort students put into their classes. Some—including many, if not most of the with dyslexia, who number 1 in 5, will receive grades that in no way reflect their understanding, effort, or most importantly, their intelligence.

    Those who have dyslexia—both those who are identified and those who are not—will typically continue to struggle in school, where reading, writing and spelling are their greatest difficulties. The unexpected academic difficulties these smart students experience confounds the adults in their lives. Parents, teachers and administrators will frequently explain away their difficulties: “He just doesn’t work hard enough.” “She has to get more focused.” “He’s all boy, and will grow out of it.” “She spends too much time daydreaming.” “He knows the material, he just doesn’t test well.”

    Those adults, who have the responsibility to educate children, get an F in Dyslexia 101. Here are some basics about the most common learning difference, as simple as A B C D:

    A—Awareness of the most basic aspects of dyslexia, which means “trouble with words.” Dyslexia is nothing new; it has been studied since the 1880s. Dyslexia is a hereditary neurological difference in the brain that makes it difficult to match and process sound to symbols of letters and blends—so “sounding it out” when reading simply doesn’t work for those with dyslexia.

    The development of the Functional MRI allows researchers to actually see how the brain of someone with dyslexia fires differently and in different places than someone who doesn’t have it.

    Contrary to popular belief, dyslexia is not about reversing letters or seeing things backwards. And dyslexia is also associated with an array of strengths that include creativity, “outside the box” thinking, entrepreneurialism and excellence in sports and the arts among them.

    B—Books are not the best way for people with dyslexia to access information. Reading words is not nearly as efficient as hearing them; audiobooks are a boon to those with dyslexia, and programs like Learning Ally (formerly Recording for the Blind and Dyslexic) help students with dyslexia access much more material reading with their ears, than they could by reading with their eyes.

    C—Curriculum to teach reading to students with dyslexia in the way they learn does exist, but it is not widely available in our schools. Research proves that the approach their differently-wired brains require is multisensory, phonics-based, structured, sequential, systematic, and cumulative. If students with dyslexia are not taught reading in this way, they will typically plateau in their reading skills at about the third-grade level, and struggle mightily thereafter.

    D—Decoding dyslexia is not rocket science, but it often seems like it. For that reason, parents across the country  created a grassroots movement known as Decoding Dyslexia. The organization has taken hold in every state and several countries outside the U.S. to educate, advocate and legislate about dyslexia. In California, the efforts of Decoding Dyslexia were successful with the passage of AB 1369 (co-sponsored by then-Assembly Member Das Williams), the first dyslexia legislation in more than a decade. The guidelines contained in the legislation provide information about how schools can better  provide appropriate services for students with dyslexia.