FanStory.com - What We See - Chapter 23by Jim Wile

Chapter 23

After school the next day, Ginnie and I walked into Mrs. Dunbar’s room, and we introduced ourselves. Mrs. Dunbar, who was a large, intimidating-looking woman, gave us a wary look.

Ginnie said, “Mrs. Dunbar, Tommy won’t be visiting you this afternoon. I told him I would come in his place. I’m very concerned about the way you responded to his failing grade on the exam yesterday in front of the class, as well as your remarks to him during and following his reading of the poem.”

“Yes, I thought about that some last night, and perhaps I was a bit harsh in my criticism. But Tommy has not been applying himself in my class, and I see no valid excuse for his poor performance except that he just doesn’t care.”

“Well, Mrs. Dunbar, maybe there’s something else that you haven’t considered, and that is that Tommy has dyslexia, and reading and speaking without making a few errors is very difficult for him. I assure you, he cares.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Boardman, but there’s nothing in his school record about that, and frankly, I don’t really believe dyslexia is a real thing. I think it’s a convenient excuse for lazy kids who aren’t trying very hard to read well.” She said this with such confidence that I could sense Ginnie’s hackles rising.

“He is not lazy. You wouldn’t believe how much time he spends on his English homework. I know because I help him with it. He is anything but lazy!”

Before this escalated further, I decided to jump in. “Mrs. Dunbar, let me assure you that dyslexia is very real. I am dyslexic myself, and reading and always speaking the correct word have been difficult for me my entire life. Let me tell you a little story:”

In school, I had one outstanding teacher who seemed to recognize my disability. It was my physics teacher in 11th grade, Mr. Hafner. He had given us an exam with several problems on it that required computations, as well as 25 multiple-choice questions. I had scored a 74 on the exam, and when he handed them back, he asked me to come see him after school.

When school was over and I went to his classroom, he said, “Alan, you answered all the problem questions at the end perfectly, but you didn’t even answer five of the multiple-choice questions that came first, and of the ones you answered, you got a number of them wrong. Can you explain that?”

“Well, I did the problem ones first, then the multiple choice, and I just didn’t finish in time.”

“Could you pull out your test and read the first multiple-choice question out loud to me?”

I did as he asked, and my speech was very slow and halting as I read the question and the four possible answers:

1. Reflection is:

a) A change in the direction of waves as they pass from one

         medium to another
      b) The breaking up of light into its constituent colors
      c) A change in the direction of waves when they bounce off a

barrier
d) The spreading of white light into its full spectrum of

wavelengths

“I fail to see what this has to do with Tommy,” said Mrs. Dunbar.

“Bear with me a little longer. We’re getting to it.”

Mr. Hafner then said, “I can now understand why you missed the question, Alan. Do you realize you read the word ‘refraction’ just now instead of ‘reflection’? Your answer—a—would have been correct in that case.”

I looked at it again closely, and, sure enough, I had misread it.

“Let me ask you this too. Do you always read slowly like that?”

“I was told I have dyslexia, and that’s why I have a little trouble with reading and understanding.”

“Do you know the correct answer to this question?”

“I do now. It’s c.”

Mr. Hafner looked at me, shook his head slightly, and gave a small chuckle. “Alan, would you mind taking the multiple-choice part of the test again? I’ll read you the questions, and you just tell me the answers. How about it?”

“Sure.”

And he did, and I got all of them correct.

He said, “I’m going to change your grade from 74 to 100. From now on, why don’t we just have you answer the calculation questions on class tests, and you come to me after school, and we’ll finish the test like we did today together? Alright?”

This choked me up at the time. I thanked him profusely. I’d never had a teacher make an allowance for me like that. It was likely that kindness that helped steer me toward teaching as a career. Yes, I became a high school teacher of physics. What a difference he made in my attitude about school and my confidence. I hadn’t even been sure I’d be going to college until then, when I realized I was actually pretty smart. If I could help strugglers, whether dyslexic or not, the way he helped me, wouldn’t that be a worthwhile and gratifying career, I thought at the time?

“If you’d like, I can refer you to some excellent books and articles that have been published about dyslexia, which is said to plague between 10 and 15 percent of the population. I’m sure you’ve had other students who’ve struggled with reading in your class through the years.”

“Are you finished?”

“For now.”

“I have no intention of giving Tommy an advantage like that on exams. It wouldn’t be fair to the other children.”

“It would not be giving him an advantage; it would simply be leveling the playing field, giving him something the other kids already have and he doesn’t—enough time to read and understand the questions and finish the exam.”

There was a decided change in her countenance then as she pondered this remark. It went from an expression of callous defiance to one of thoughtful contemplation. Ginnie’s face also seemed to relax a little.

Mrs. Dunbar was clearly thinking this over, and we both stood silently waiting for her to speak.

“I confess, you’ve given me much to think about here. I can’t promise anything at present until I’ve had a chance to think about it some more and do a bit of reading, as you suggested, Mr. Phelps. I thank you for sharing that story with me and for your coming here today, Mrs. Boardman, to explain the situation. I will be in touch with you to discuss it further.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dunbar,” said Ginnie. “I appreciate your willingness to listen and to think about it. We won’t take any more of your time.”

We left then, and as we were walking back to the car, she said to me, “Alan, you never told me that story before. Is it really true?”

“Have you ever known me to lie?”

“Well, you saved me from flying off the handle and making the situation worse. She was so infuriating at first. There’s still no excuse for the humiliation she made Tommy feel with her sarcastic and rude remarks, but at least it sounds like you got to her, and she’ll think about what you said. Thank you so much for coming and helping me avoid a shouting match with her. You achieved exactly the result I was hoping for.”

“You’re welcome. There’s nothing like the experience of dyslexia to provide a believable description of it.”

“Don’t you ever get rattled by people? You were so calm in there. I was about to explode.”

“I could tell. The answer is yes. I do get rattled, but I try to rein it in because it often just escalates a situation. It’s hard sometimes, but somehow, I usually manage. I’ve also come to realize that many people say hurtful things not always with hurtful intentions, but just because they don’t know any better. It’s their ignorance about things that prejudices them in certain ways. If Mrs. Dunbar had known more about dyslexia, I don’t think she would have come down on Tommy the way she did. Although there’s no excuse for her rudeness to him, there may still be hope for her. I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for a while.”

“Can you find me a pair of those rose-colored glasses you wear? You are the perfect yang to my yin.”

We drove home to tell Tommy about it.