As I reach the end of my 2 year grad school program I can’t help but reflect on my relationship with education. If you have only known me in the last 10 years you have seen a woman who loves to read. Who has gone back to school to get her teaching certificate. Who is about to graduate from a masters program with hopefully a 4.0. Who loves education so much she has made it her career. This however has not always been the case.

I have a learning disability called dyslexia. Dyslexia is a condition of neurodevelopmental origin that mainly affects the ease with which a person reads, writes, and spells, typically recognized as a specific learning disorder in children. Basically my brain processes written language differently from other people’s. Reading, writing, and spelling have always been a struggle for me. At times it even felt crippling. 

Education has not always been something I love. I remember being in Mrs. Pooler’s class in Kinder or 1st. We were in a reading circle and I was struggling to read my section. I got so frustrated that I threw my head back and was trying to keep myself from crying in class. I remember being in middle school and having a weekly spelling list. EVERY week was a struggle to memorize the words. Often the evenings would end in both my mom and myself crying because studying the spelling words was such a struggle.I remember how confusing and frustrating it was that my little sister was gifted and did not have to study as much as I did. I remember in undergrad when I had my first paper assigned. I spent a week writing it. I brought it to the writing center three different times. When I got it back from the professor the page was covered in red because of all the spelling errors and gramer mistakes. Education has not always been something I am good at. 

If I could go back in time I would. I would go back and hold that little girl while we both cry because our hearts are broken. The rest of the kids in her class read a “real” chapter book for their book reports. She had to read Frog and Toad because that is all she could manage. I would look that pre-teen in the eye and tell her that she is right, it is not fair that she has to work harder than her peers. I would scream out of frustration with that teenager. She spent literally days memorizing a spelling list to only just barely pass the test on Friday. I would hold the hand of that high schooler who was brave enough to explain her learning disability to the new teacher. To only have the response of the teacher be “Well maybe you should memorize the entire dictionary”. 

I would also go back in time and talk to my parents. I would encourage them to keep fighting for me even when it is hard. I would ask my younger mom to continue to have me do my spelling words, even when it would be easier to give up. I would tell my younger dad to keep reading to me. Because that’s what causes me to be a well read adult. I would tell them that because of the ways they fight for me I know how to fight for myself as an adult. Dyslexia will always be a part of me but because of those specific moments I now have the coping skills to be successful. 

My relationship with education was so different back then. But because I went through all of that I am now able to stand here a month away from graduating grad school. It has been a fight. There have been several times where I wanted to give up.I am so grateful that my parents always encouraged me to keep going. If you have a child with a learning disability, promise me you will fight for them even when its hard. Even when it would be easier to give up. If you have dyslexia know that I know how it feels. But also know that if I was able to make it this far so can you. 

Written by the soon to be Jona-Lynn Rowe M.Ed