I am profoundly grateful to two people in my life
(excuse me, but I have a tummy bug so am addressing my mortality just now),
I'm sure there are more people that I am grateful for but right now as I write a report I am reminded that I would not be writing reports had it not been for Mags and Mrs Whittleston.
Mags is a given because she's my mum but it was her faith in her kids, sorry children she hates the word kids, that meant that she never gave up on my brother or me (and Pippipotomus but her case it was for different reasons). Mags researched dyslexia (family helped with that too) and fought the school and found SPELD and got me a tutor named Mrs Whittleston.
My brother and I are learning disabled - boy does that bring to mind a multitude of dire disabilities - basically things like reading didn't gel for me until I was nine and then once it did I went from nothing to reading adult books. Maybe I was just board with the reading material I was given?
Every Monday afternoon we drove to Mrs Whittleston's leafy green, cool house up the back of Riverlea Road. There I learnt to spell using wooden animals (sounds weird I know, I still can't spell rhino... the whole word that is, good thing I never use it) and the reason I'm thinking of this today is because I was just writing 'business' and remembered how long it took me to learn how to spell that word.
Now I view my dyslexia/learning disability*as probably my greatest asset as it never goes away, you learn to adapt, actually you adapt before you learn, it's call coping. I never knew there was something 'wrong' with me, so as far as I'm concerned I'm perfectly normal. Plus I have this wonderful advantage of seeing the world in a whole different way to everyone else and it has made my life richer, more interesting and way funner than it ever would just by virtue of not fitting so automatically I was a rebel without any effort.
As I write this I am reminded of how before I could read well, I knew how to speak and boy did I do that. Mags tells this story, and I do remember giving the talk but that's all, of me being in Standard 4 (with scary Mr Wilson who sharpen our pencils with a knife) and the presentation was on Ancient Egypt (I wanted to be an archaeologist until I realised you had to look for stuff, I hate looking for stuff, really hate it) and apparently the end of school bell rang and I kept going and the kids/children remained listening until I finished as if the bell never rang. You see what not learning to read does for you? You strengthen other skills that most people are mortally afraid off. Nice compensation HF.
*there are varying degrees of dyslexia and disabilities so there is no typical problem or person - love that moving target parents and teachers have to deal with.
P.S. I am also profoundly grateful for spellcheck.