Young and dyslexic? You’ve got it going on
Benjamin Zephaniah
As a child I suffered, but learned to turn dyslexia to my advantage, to see the world more creatively.
We are the architects, we are the designers
I’m of the generation where teachers didn’t know what dyslexia was. The big problem with the
education system then was that there was no compassion, no understanding and no humanity. I
don’t look back and feel angry with the teachers. The ones who wanted to have an individual
approach weren’t allowed to. The idea of being kind and thoughtful and listening to problems just
wasn’t done: the past is a different kind of country.
At school my ideas always contradicted the teachers’. I remember one teacher saying that human
beings sleep for one-third of their life and I put my hand up and said, “If there’s a God isn’t that a
design fault? If you’ve built something, you want efficiency. If I was God I would have designed sleep
so we could stay awake. Then good people could do one-third more good in the world.”
The teacher said, “Shut up, stupid boy. Bad people would do one-third more bad.” I thought I’d put
in a good idea. I was just being creative. She also had a point, but the thing was, she called me stupid
for even thinking about it.
I remember a teacher talking about Africa and the “local savages” and I would say, “Who are you to
talk about savages?” She would say, “How dare you challenge me?” – and that would get me into
trouble.
Once, when I was finding it difficult to engage with writing and had asked for some help, a teacher
said, “It’s all right. We can’t all be intelligent, but you’ll end up being a good sportsperson, so why
don’t you go outside and play some football?” I thought, “Oh great”, but now I realise he was
stereotyping me.
I had poems in my head even then, and when I was 10 or 11 my sister wrote some of them down for
me. When I was 13 I could read very basically but it would be such hard work that I would give up. I
thought that so long as you could read how much the banknote was worth, you knew enough or you
could ask a mate.
I got thrown out of a lot of schools, the last one at 13. I was expelled partly because of arguing with
teachers on an intellectual level and partly for being a rude boy and fighting. I didn’t stab anybody,
but I did take revenge on a teacher once. I stole his car and drove it into his front garden. I
remember him telling us the Nazis weren’t that bad. He could say that in the classroom. When I was
in borstal I used to do this thing of looking at people I didn’t want to be like. I saw a guy who spent
all his time sitting stooped over and I thought, “I don’t want to be like that,” so I learned to sit with a
straight back. Being observant helped me make the right choices.
A high percentage of the prison population are dyslexic, and a high percentage of the architect
population. If you look at the statistics, I should be in prison: a black man brought up on the wrong
side of town whose family fell apart, in trouble with the police when I was a kid, unable to read and
write, with no qualifications and, on top of that, dyslexic. But I think staying out of prison is about
conquering your fears and finding your path in life.
When I go into prisons to talk to people I see men and women who, in intelligence and other
qualities, are the same as me. But opportunities opened for me and they missed theirs, didn’t notice
them or didn’t take them.
I never thought I was stupid. I didn’t have that struggle. If I have someone in front of me who doesn’t
have a problem reading and writing telling me that black people are savages I just think, “I’m not
stupid – you’re the one who’s stupid.” I just had self-belief.
For my first book I told my poems to my girlfriend, who wrote them down for me. It really took off,
especially within the black community. I wrote “wid luv” for “with love”. People didn’t think they
were dyslexic poems, they just thought I wrote phonetically.
At 21 I went to an adult education class in London to learn to read and write. The teacher told me,
“You are dyslexic,” and I was like, “Do I need an operation?” She explained to me what it meant and
I suddenly thought, “Ah, I get it. I thought I was going crazy.”
I wrote more poetry, novels for teenagers, plays, other books and recorded music. I take poetry to
people who do not read poetry. Still now, when I’m writing the word “knot”, I have to stop and
think, “How do I write that?” I have to draw something to let me know what the word is to come
back to it later. If I can’t spell “question” I just put a question mark and come back to it later.
I was diagnosed with dyslexia and it's a gift, not a curse.
When I look at a book, the first thing I see is the size of it, and I know that’s what it’s like for a lot of
young people who find reading tough. When Brunel University offered me the job of professor of
poetry and creative writing, I knew my students would be officially more educated than me. I tell
them, “You can do this course and get the right grade because you have a good memory – but if you
don’t have passion, creativity, individuality, there’s no point.” In my life now, I find that people
accommodate my dyslexia. I can perform my poetry because it doesn’t have to be word perfect, but
I never read one of my novels in public. When I go to literary festivals I always get an actor to read it
out for me. Otherwise all my energy goes into reading the book and the mood is lost.
If someone can’t understand dyslexia it’s their problem. In the same way, if someone oppresses me
because of my race I don’t sit down and think, “How can I become white?” It’s not my problem, it’s
theirs and they are the ones who have to come to terms with it.
If you’re dyslexic and you feel there’s something holding you back, just remember: it’s not you. In
many ways being dyslexic is a natural way to be.
What’s unnatural is the way we read and write. If you look at a pictorial language like Chinese, you
can see the word for a woman because the character looks like a woman. The word for a house
looks like a house. It is a strange step to go from that to a squiggle that represents a sound.
So don’t be heavy on yourself. And if you are a parent of someone with dyslexia don’t think of it as a
defect. Dyslexia is not a measure of intelligence: you may have a genius on your hands. Having
dyslexia can make you creative. If you want to construct a sentence and can’t find the word you are
searching for, you have to think of a way to write round it. This requires being creative and so your
“creativity muscle” gets bigger.
Kids come up to me and say, “I’m dyslexic too,” and I say to them, “Use it to your advantage, see the
world differently. Us dyslexic people, we’ve got it going on – we are the architects. We are the
designers.” It’s like these kids are proud to be like me and if that helps them, that is great. I didn’t
have that as a child. I say to them, “Bloody non-dyslexics … who do they think they are?”
Growing Up with Dyslexia:
Additional Insight for Teachers,
Parents and Students
By Sarah Young
My Experience with Dyslexia
Growing up with dyslexia hasn’t been easy. And just like many others with dyslexia, I also
suffer from ADD (40% to be exact). Going through elementary school, middle school, high
school, and even college; I had to figure out how I learned and what coping skills would work
for me. If I could relive my school-aged years and have the opportunity to choose between
having a “normal” brain and keeping my dyslexic brain, I would choose my dyslexic brain
even with its additional challenges. Now that I understand my unique way of thinking, I’ve
grown to love and really appreciate it. But if I could change one thing about my brain, it
would be to increase the level of control I have over the amount of focus I can give to a given
task or idea—although, I have also found ways to cope with focusing that I will share later on
in this post. If I could go back and do it all over again with the coping skills I now have, I am
convinced I would have had much better grades and a higher self-esteem during my
developmental years.
Advantages of Dyslexia
Being dyslexic has numerous advantages that I have grown to love and appreciate. The
following advantages have been especially helpful in school, life, and even in landing my
dream job:
Creativity
I am very creative both artistically and in problem solving. For example: My sister wanted
me to make some sort of carnival game for my niece’s first birthday party last October. She
also gave a few qualifiers: (1) I needed to use cardboard boxes and existing art supplies; (2) it
needed to look like Halloween meets a birthday party; (3) it needed to be colorful. These
qualifiers made it seem like a recipe for disaster but I trusted that I could make something
that would turn out great. It ended up being a cute ball toss game made up of, what some
might call: “a pile of garbage.” Click here to see what I came up with.
Ability to Hyperfocus
Like many people with dyslexia, I love to daydream. A lot of people lose the ability to
“dream” after a certain age, and even though I’m well into my 20’s, this is still a place my
mind goes for refuge. In my own mind I have no limits and I feel free regardless of the dayto-day stresses of life. As I have grown in maturity I have also gained the ability to follow
through with my dreams, which has blessed me with many unique life experiences.
Whether it be a specific daydream, hobby, or goal, I always need to have something to
hyperfocus on. It helps me to find a sense of focus that carries on throughout all areas of my
life. It becomes an anchor for the rest of my thoughts and helps me feel secure. Many people
ask me why I’m so driven and it’s honestly because of my need to hyperfocus.
Curiosity
If I don’t understand the “why” behind an idea or fact, it will go in one ear and out the other:
that’s just how my brain stores information. At a young age I must have intuitively
understood this about myself because my favorite question to ask was always “why?” I recall
many a time repeatedly asking my dad “why” after he had presented new information.
Luckily, he always had an answer for me—even if it went on for quite a while, as it often did.
Good Listener
I believe that having dyslexia makes it easier for me to read people and to understand their
intentions. This is something many people struggle with, which I didn’t realize until I was
much older because it came so naturally to me. But as I listen to someone I am able to see the
big picture and take it all in. I can listen to someone’s words while feeling with them
(empathizing) while still paying close attention to their facial expressions and body
positioning (gestures). I am able to “read between the lines” with little to no effort at a high
level of accuracy.
Challenges of Dyslexia
Having dyslexia also has its disadvantages—or challenges to overcome. The following
challenges have had the biggest impact on my grades and self-esteem as a student:
Ability to Focus
There were many times in school when the teacher would be giving instructions and I’d have
to ask my neighbor to repeat them for me. It took me a LONG time to gain control over the
way my brain focuses. I’d be sitting there in class trying to listen (I really wanted to listen)
and my mind would drift to whatever was more interesting at the time. I could control my
focus to a point but my will was often not strong enough to stay focused for a complete
lecture. Only in the last 5-10 years have I figured out ways to trick my brain into focusing
more fully during subjects that are less inherently interesting to me.
Test Taking
Testing was very hard because I’d have difficulty remembering the names of people and
places; not to mention the sequence of events. It was a recipe for disaster because this is
exactly what students get tested on! For example, my junior year in high school I took honors
English because I wanted to learn more than I cared about the grade I received. We had a test
pretty much every other day on the material we were supposed to have read. So I’d prepare
and come to the class ready to take the test. Much to my disappointment, I’d get many of the
answers wrong because the right answers were tucked away in my brain and I’d have a hard
time retrieving them. When we’d go over the answers together as a class I’d instantly
recognize the right answers once someone repeated them out loud and even remember the
passages where I read the information in the first place. It was very frustrating to know that I
knew the right answers but would still get them wrong anyway.
Organization
As a young child I was extremely disorganized! My room was always a mess and I had
difficulty keeping track of time and school assignments. I would dread report cards coming in
the mail because I knew that I’d get in trouble. In elementary school I pretty much got all C’s
because I just couldn’t stay on top of everything. Every task, whether it was from a parent or
a teacher, seemed entirely overwhelming to me. Looking back on it now, I recognize that
there was a high level of anxiety because my brain processed tasks in terms of the big picture.
I had a difficult time breaking these tasks into bite-sized chunks appropriate for a small child
to accomplish.
Reading
I feel like English is my second language even though I don’t speak/read anything else. I
guess my first language is interpreting pictures and emotions. As an early reader, it took me a
long time to branch out away from picture books. I was afraid that without the pictures my
comprehension would suffer and that reading would be pointless and boring.
When I read, I generally don’t really read the words in their entirety. I see the word more like
a picture. I see the first few letters and the last few, and depending on the length of the word
and the context, I know what the word is. It is difficult for me when I come across words that
I’ve never read before, even if they are part of my spoken vocabulary.
My sweet parents—through no fault of their own, thought it was a good idea for me if we all
took turns reading the Bible out loud as a family. At school I had no problems reading out
loud in front of a class because I was not really reading, although I knew what the words
were and could repeat the words on the page. But when we had to read the Bible at home, it
was a struggle. I didn’t really know how to read because I was not taught how to read
phonetically in school. I had tremendous difficulty sounding out the words in Old English
because they were so unfamiliar to me. It was highly embarrassing and took a toll on my selfesteem.
Spelling
To this day I still struggle with spelling. To put a positive spin on things, I like to think of
myself as a “creative” speller. On weekly spelling tests in grade school my average grade was
a 7 out of 10 or below. Granted, I didn’t really study other than by doing the required spelling
homework. The one time I did get 10 out of 10, my teacher really put me under her wing and
helped me study. I guess that before then I figured I was just not smart enough to get 100% so
why even try. Although I never studied again in elementary school for a spelling test, this
teacher did do something very important for my self-esteem. I finally realized that if I applied
myself I could be successful.
Coping Skills
The following are just a few coping strategies that I’ve found work for me. They make for a
good starting point to find strategies that will work for you or your student.
1. Understand that the only person you can compare yourself
with is you.
Don’t compare yourself with other people. Just because someone else got an A while you got
a B does not make them “better” than you. Instead compare that B with your previous score
of a B- and realize that as long as your grade is improving, it’s a success!
2. Realize that you might need additional time.
Realize that people with dyslexia sometimes need more time to digest and process
information. With each assignment have your end goal in mind: is it to understand a concept
more in-depth or to practice critical thinking skills? As you allow yourself to take your time
you’ll end up with a better grasp of the material because, as a student with dyslexia, you’ll be
able to see concepts from multiple angles at the same time.
3. It’s okay to have a different way of completing
assignments.
I wasn’t always a decent writer. In fact, I used to hate it! I had so many thoughts and I
couldn’t figure out how to organize them in a way I was happy with. I also felt constricted by
starting at the beginning of a paper (the introduction) because that’s just not the way I think.
Since then, I have learned that sometimes I just need to sit down for an hour or so to organize
my ideas before writing. I’ve learned that it’s okay to start in the middle of a paper and
organize it later.
4. Understand that grades don’t necessarily reflect how much
you know or how smart you are.
Do not allow your grades to put a label on you. Give yourself a minimum grade expectation
(i.e. nothing lower than a B) but have your main goal be to learn. You’ll end up getting more
out of your education and let go of some of your anxiety and insecurities.
5. Take advantage of high focus intervals.
I know that I have a higher quality of focus in the early morning hours. When I had a paper
due in college, rather than staying up late to finish, I’d wake up super early in the morning to
finish up. I also learned to take an assignment with me wherever I went. Rather than waiting
around, I could pull out an assignment and work on it then. If you’re in the “zone,” take
advantage of it and keep working—power through.
6. Chew gum to regain focus.
This trick has helped me so much! If I’m in the zone and I get distracted, chewing gum is a
great way to re-set and continue working, especially when I’m writing.
7. Find a quiet place to do homework.
It sounds so simple, but having a quiet place to work makes all the difference. To this day I
still need a quiet place so I can concentrate even in my work environment. It also helps to
have consistency in where you do your homework. That way anxiety goes down because you
know where everything is and don’t have to reorient yourself to a new environment.
8. Make it your goal to find out the “why.”
When learning new information in school, especially in college, I’d have to trick my brain
into thinking that something was interesting in order to absorb that information. I would think
to myself: “Someone at some point in time thought this was interesting/useful and I am
bound and determined to find out what/why that is.” Once I found out the “why” it made it
much easier to stay on task for longer periods of time and gain a more in-depth knowledge of
the subject matter.
9. Stop taking notes on every detail.
People with dyslexia have a hard time filtering information, especially when it comes to
taking notes. In high school you may have to ask your teacher to put the slides online but in
college I never even had to ask. I could access them whenever I needed to. I know this sounds
pretty ridiculous but I first tried it out in a world music class in college, so I figured that if it
didn’t work out I’d be able to catch up anyway. I stopped worrying about taking notes on
every little thing and would only jot something down if I thought I needed to explore the
topic on my own. I noticed amazing results! Because of the way my brain processes
information, I retained most of the lectures. I could hardly believe it!
10. Use pre-tests to find out what you don’t know and study
accordingly.
This was especially helpful when prepping for finals. The teacher wouldn’t tell you what
would be on the final so you were pretty much expected to know everything you’d been
taught throughout the semester. Often there are tests with answer banks at the end of every
chapter. As you begin to understand what you don’t know, you’ll then have more focus as to
where you should spend your time studying. If pre-tests aren’t available, you can always pull
out your graded tests from throughout the semester and see what questions you may have
missed.
11. It’s not just about how hard you study but about how
“smart” you study.
Find out what format the test will be in. People with dyslexia tend to think that they have to
know EVERYTHING about a subject in order to do well on a test. This can be
overwhelming, which is why many students with dyslexia tend to give up and “check-out”
before a test. Depending on if it’s open-ended or multiple-choice should indicate the level of
mastery needed for a particular test.
12. If you don’t know the answer during a test, use logic to
figure it out.
Students with dyslexia rely heavily on memorization, especially during tests. Relax. If you
come to a question you don’t particularly remember reading about, use logic to answer the
question. We all know people who score very well on tests and hardly have to study. They
can get away with it because they’ve learned to rely on logic and we can too.
What Teachers Should Know
Students with dyslexia generally need more time to practice and digest new skills than other
students. Growing up, I had to figure out what to study and what drills to do on my own. It
would have been so much easier if my teachers would have given me optional drills I could
do at home. What’s great about Reading Horizons is that there are practice tests built into the
software so that students will know what they don’t know and are guided as far as what and
how they should be studying.
Teachers should also treat dyslexic students with a fair amount of patience. Instead of being
frustrated with them for their disorganization and poor time management, show them ways to
improve. Give them systems they can follow so they can be successful at completing tasks
and assignments.
What Parents Should Know
Be patient. For many dyslexic children any task can be overwhelming. When you want them
to help out around the house, i.e. do the dishes, don’t just tell them; show them. If you can
walk them through how to do a chore then they’ll be able to visualize it as a step-by-step
(more manageable) process. Instead of seeing a pile of dishes as point A and clean dishes
stacked nicely in the cupboards as point B, they’ll see point A as rinsing the dishes, point B
as placing the dishes in the dishwasher, point C as turning the dishwasher on and then waiting
for them to dry, and finally point D as stacking the dishes nicely in the cupboards. This will
lower your child’s anxiety, not to mention give you a cleaner house and more peace of mind.
As parents, it can be hard to determine how many exceptions should be made for your child
and for how long. It’s a very personal decision that I think needs to be made jointly between
the parents, teachers, and the child in question. Personally, after reaching a certain age I
chose to be treated just like everyone else. I understood that in the real world no one was
going to make exceptions for me. I also accepted the fact that I probably needed to work
harder than most to receive decent grades and I was okay with that. I knew I could handle it
or at least I was willing to try.
My Success Story
I am where I am today because of the support of my parents, concern of my teachers, and
love of my friends; and for that I say: Thank you.
As a young child I HATED school, I often faked being sick so I could stay home from
school, be with my mom, and watch TV all day instead. When I was about 8 years old I was
placed in a resource class for part of the school day. I HATED it. No one sat me down to tell
me why I was there. I knew I had dyslexia but I didn’t know how that related to being in a
special classroom. I’m embarrassed to say that, in my young mind, I labeled the other kids in
the resource class as either disruptive or slow. I wish someone would have told me that there
was nothing “wrong” with them and that they just learned differently. Because I was in that
class I thought that I must have had something “wrong” with me too and that’s why my
teacher didn’t want me in her class for the whole day. And that it would be easier on her if I
wasn’t there. As a natural “people pleaser” this was very hard on my self-esteem.
By the time I was 12, I was no longer in a resource class but I did have the ability to ask for
notes or extra time on an “as needed” basis. I still did not enjoy school except for the social
aspect. I did, however, begin to gain confidence in my physical abilities. My mom finally
agreed to put me in a gymnastics class—and I excelled. I began to compete in floor tumbling
and would often get first place at local tournaments. In fact, there were only two competitions
where I did not receive first place. Gymnastics came naturally for me and it felt great to
finally be good at something. I figured that although my grades were mediocre at best, I must
not be stupid after all because stupid people aren’t good at gymnastics.
In high school I really wanted to be a part of the cheerleading team because I thought it
would be something else I could be good at. The only problem was that my grades were at a
2.4 when I needed at least a 2.5 GPA to tryout. Up until that point, my goal in school was to
have no grades below a C- because then I could avoid getting in trouble with my parents.
Now, I finally had a reason to try just a little harder in school. I still believed that my brain
was somehow deficient but I also trusted that a jump from a 2.4 to a 2.5 GPA was something
I could do.
I always knew that I wanted to go to college because it would make my parents proud. That
was the extent of my motivation until at about age 16 when I realized that I might have a shot
at being a cheerleader in college. That was something that if I could achieve would not only
make my parents proud, but it would make me proud too. I began to hyperfocus on this goal.
I would spend most of my free time in stunting or gymnastics classes and came to really
excel in it. As a result of hyperfocusing on this goal, my grades also improved. I started high
school with a 2.4 and graduated with a 2.8 GPA. I learned that as long as I had a goal or a
dream I could hold onto, my focus in all other areas of life would improve.
I was a cheerleader at Salt Lake Community College for two years where I also had the
opportunity to be the lead speaker for the “Know Greater Heroes” program there. I was able
to speak in front of auditoriums full of elementary students to teach them the importance of
staying away from drugs and violence. A lot of people are terrified of public speaking, but
dyslexia enabled me to see an auditorium full of children (the big picture) instead of 2,000
individual students. I grew to love public speaking because it is something I can be very good
at.
It wasn’t until I transferred to the University of Utah that my main goal became pursuing my
education. It was a difficult transition for me because pursuing my physical talents is what
carried me through school in the first place. But I knew that my program was highly
competitive and that I’d really have to apply myself in order to be accepted, let alone
graduate. It was possibly the most difficult thing I have ever put myself through but also one
of the most rewarding.
My last year in college my self-esteem was higher than it had ever been. At least I knew I
was 'special' in terms of creativity, presentation, and physical ability but still thought of
myself as having an average or below average I.Q. I would often wish I was talented in areas
that actually mattered (according to my narrow-minded point of view), I had no idea that my
talents could actually transfer over into my academic and future occupational career. I was so
used to fighting what appeared to be an uphill battle when it came to academia. I was used to
the fact that I had to work harder than most for the same or similar grades on assignments to
that of my peers.
It wasn’t until a caring teacher encouraged me to participate in a scholastic competition that
my point of view changed. She told me that she thought I would be perfect for it. Luckily, my
teacher was someone I regarded enough that I decided to give it a try. It was the Daniels Fund
Ethics Consortium, where we split up into teams and were given an ethical business dilemma
(case) and then had to present our solution to a panel of judges. To my delight, our team won!
In preparation for the next phase of the competition, my team spent about 20 hours per week
on the case on top of jobs and regular school work. During which time we had access to the
Business School’s law professor to help us along in the process. I remember thinking: “Wow,
my school values me enough to give me countless hours of access to the law professor, not to
mention pay for me to fly out to Colorado! I must be smart; I must be someone ‘special.’
Again, to my delight, our team (the University of Utah) took third place out of eight schools
in the regional competition!
At the end of my final semester in school I earned straight A’s (including some A-’s, but
who’s counting). And I graduated from the David Eccles School of Business with a 3.2 GPA
and my name engraved on a plaque hanging in the Spencer Fox Eccles Business Building for
my contribution in the 2014 ethics competition. Shortly after graduation, I was hired on as the
new Marketing Content Manager for Reading Horizons. I love what I do because my hard
work goes towards helping people just like me who struggle(d) with reading. I appreciate my
life experiences because they make me more effective in my marketing efforts. I now know
that I am smart and that my unique way of processing information isn’t a disability but an
asset.
Growing up with dyslexia: How I
learned to succeed
A high school senior with learning difficulties inspires hope by telling his
personal story of using determination and drive to overcome his
challenges.
by: Richard Olney | June 2, 2015
Throughout school, I’ve been troubled with being very intelligent and at the same time
having to rely on others to do my schoolwork. I’ve needed hours of help to express my ideas
in a form the education system — one that works so well for many but wasn’t really made
for me – would accept.
Identifying My Problems
In first grade I discovered there was an enormous difference between what I knew and how
I functioned in school. How could those jumbled letters mean anything? Why didn’t the
words sound like the letters? Why couldn’t my hand form the letters correctly? Why did
people laugh at my spelling? My parents told me it was because I had dyslexia.
My grade school teachers didn’t know what to do with me. I wasn’t labeled a poor student
because I understood and dictated information at a more advanced level than I could read
and write. The best thing they did for me was put me in a program for highly capable
learners. This labeled me as “intelligent” rather than “slow learner.”
Other kids teased me because of my difficulty in the classroom and motor problems on the
playground. I became a loner, shy and afraid to step forward, afraid of being hurt.
The special education teachers tried everything, but they couldn’t come up with a system to
help me read better. I began to feel more like a guinea pig. They tried to teach me Braille
and suggested I learn Morse Code. Some of these things might have worked if I had had the
patience to keep them up.
Things got better in fifth grade when I had a teacher who treated me with respect and
inspired me — giving me much of the drive for excellence I now have. She recognized I
could be smart but still struggle with things. She worked with me the entire year, helping me
build my confidence. Finally, my peers began treating me with respect, too.
Finding My Motivation
My life took a shift in seventh grade. When I was younger, I lived in a world of fantasy and
imagination — with action figures and books. I met a group of friends similar to myself –
intelligent, imaginative, and good-natured — and through them, I learned a game called
“Dungeons and Dragons.”
For the first time in a long time, I had friends I could trust and relate to. They introduced me
to something that would be key to my development. I became their dungeon master, and as
such I had to read tremendous amounts of material to prepare the adventures I led. How
was I to read it? My parents wouldn’t read it to me. My tutors couldn’t help me. It had
nothing to do with school.
The drive to take some personal control over my disability had to come from outside of
school. In my case, school helped me compensate for my problems but didn’t force me to
overcome them. I had to believe I could overcome my own dragons, just as I had to slay the
dragons in the game. Finally it was my own challenge.
I chose technology to gain my independence. I obtained a scanner capable of optical
character recognition. This allowed me to scan a book into my computer in a text format and
then have a speech synthesis program read it to me. Because of so many errors in the
scanned version of the text, I had to follow along in the hard copy and was forced to begin
overcoming the difficulty of reading.
Continuing the Challenges
In high school, I finally managed to convince my parents and school to take me out of me
special education classes. I still spend almost twice the time my peers spend on their
homework. My dad puts in countless hours a week helping me, as well as paying for outside
support from college students. Still, I can’t really read or write cursive, or read for too long at
one time.
I use technology in school, but it’s not the total solution. Voice activated technology doesn’t
operate fast enough for me to keep up with school, so I still have to rely on people for help.
If I dictate to a human being, it’s easier to edit and write as I go. Still, each year the
challenges become less, even though they aren’t eliminated.
As for my social life, it’s also improving. Last year, I realized I didn’t like being a loner. So I
made a conscious decision to change who I was. I would remake my outward shell but keep
my core intact. I started to go to school plays and games and tried to change the way I
interacted with people. It’s been a long struggle to rebuild my courage. My journey hasn’t
been easy, but I’m succeeding in becoming more socially adept- at least so far!
Looking Forward
In the past, I found my ability to express intellect and imagination was limited by dyslexia.
But my disability has helped me think outside of the usual ways people look at or approach
things. Despite the pitfalls and roadblocks, I always manage to push forward and find other
ways to grow as I explore my world. And I’ve developed a drive and determination to
succeed that’s invaluable. There is still pain at times, but I look forward to leaving home for
college and the new challenges I’ll face in the future.
From Dyslexia to Dreams - A Parent's Story
By: Raymond Gibbons
Like every parent of a dyslexic child, we have a story to tell. We are fortunate that our
story seems to have a happy ending. John is currently U.S. Junior Modern Pentathlon
Champion and en route to compete in his fourth World Championship. He has a decent
chance to compete for the USA in the 2012 London Olympics. As importantly, he has just
successfully completed his first year in business studies here in England at Northampton
University. The road has not been easy, but the dream is alive.
At nine, John was already four to five years behind in reading. His teachers said he was
inattentive and disruptive. We were totally unaware that he was dyslexic until one of his
teachers explained, almost in passing, that this pattern of behavior was relatively
common in dyslexic children. No one had ever thought to tell us he was dyslexic, and
there had been no obvious signs of problems outside school. His coaches at the local
swimming club had found him extremely hard working and easy to deal with. At, home
he had seemed bright and eager to learn, if not the early reader we had hoped for.
Once the problem had been identified, my wife I faced some tough choices. We decided
our best role would not be to provide our son with learning assistance ourselves, but to
source and manage the help he needed. We were not wealthy, however. And, having
been brought up in the U.S., I was not familiar with the "way things are done" in
England. My ignorance certainly placed the burden on my British-born wife to work the
system.
John's state-run primary school was only able to offer a few hours of supplemental group
reading sessions a week and transferring John to an independent (private) school was
beyond our means. My wife was able, however, to find a tutor who specialized in
learning difficulties who was able to see John for two hours, three times a week during
school hours. John's headmaster courageously bent the rules to allow him to leave
school and, while my wife had to leave work to shuttle John back forth, John responded
well to the tutoring. Within two years he was able to achieve a score of Average on the
standard tests administered to primary school students in the UK. And, believe me, that
was an achievement.
We were also fortunate to have friends and family members who had experience with
dyslexia to offer us support and advice. My sister in Nashville, for example, suggested
we take him for an eye exam as soon as possible. We did, and the doctor who treated
him specialized in assessing dyslexia and related problems. He not only corrected John's
vision problems, he offered insights which greatly increased our understanding of John's
particular form of dyslexia. In particular, he stressed that this was a life-long problem
and we would need to develop long-term strategies to build on John's strengths in order
compensate for his weaknesses.
Perhaps the major decision we made was based on that advice. John was, like many
young boys, a real sports nut. He was a particularly good swimmer but, we asked
ourselves, would the time he was spending swimming be better spent on extra work for
school? At end of the day, we decided that his most important need was to feel good
about himself. He needed some shield against the "stupid" taunts he was getting from
other children. John's obvious strength in swimming gave him a healthy bit of "street
cred" with his classmates. And, achieving results in the pool gave him belief that real
effort could produce results outside the pool as well. Moreover, the pool work boosted
his overall fitness and was something he enjoyed enormously.
Perhaps most fortunately of all, we found financial support to be able to send John to an
independent upper school with a very strong special needs program. While attending this
school, he found his real vocation in sports - the pentathlon. It was not an obvious
choice, since he had never previously ridden a horse, much less held a pistol or epee.
And he was competing against boys who were receiving substantial financial and training
support.
But, for everyone who tried to get him or us to lower expectations, we found another
who was prepared to believe. His special needs teacher, for example, dusted off his
fencing kit after a 30-year layoff to help him during lunch hours. And for every teacher
who advised against continuing his studies at university, there was another who made
him believe in himself and work to achieve what he was really capable of. It hasn't all
been success. He started studying sports therapy at university, but found the Latin
terminology and emphasis on rote learning were playing to his weakness. Fortunately,
by shifting to business studies he has found a course much more suited to his strengths.
There has been a good deal of luck involved in his success. He was lucky to have talents
which could be developed to compensate for his weaknesses. He was lucky to have
parents committed to his success. We were lucky to find a great deal of advice and
support. But I sincerely believe he and we have deserved some of that luck by pursuing
a successful strategy. We did not get bogged down in weaknesses, but found strength in
success and I hope sharing our story can help others deal with the kinds of difficulties
faced by dyslexics.
Borstals… Bring on the Clowns! By Alex Cavendish
The latest ITV offering on the subject of our failing criminal justice system is Bring Back Borstal, a sort
of dysfunctional Big Brother where bad lads in their 20s wear short trousers and play up in front of the
camera. I watched the first episode and quickly realised that this was twaddle masquerading as
serious comment on how we could better deal with our young offenders.
Kent: where it all started
Perhaps the worst aspect of the whole show – and I use that term intentionally – is that what was
portrayed on television bore little or no relation to the reality of borstal institutions, either back in the
1930s or up to the time of their abolition and replacement with youth custody centres in 1982. It was
also somewhat disconcerting to see a former prison governor – now a respected academic
criminologist – David Wilson, fronting the performance and thus risking giving it some misguided
League for Penal Reform and really should know better.
Fortunately, I was never a borstal boy myself, although I have veneer of intellectual credibility.
Professor Wilson is also a former trustee of the Howard a close family member who was a governor
grade at two very well-known borstals in the 1970s – both still exist as dysfunctional Young Offender
Institutions (YOIs) and are regularly panned in alarming reports by HM Inspectorate of Prisons. I’ve
listened to my own relative’s horror stories of the bullying, self-harm, suicides and how lads who ran
away were punished. By all accounts, the regime back then was pretty nasty, brutal and – for some –
short, as they ‘escaped’ by killing themselves.
A real borstal in the 1940s
Although he was an ex-serviceman himself who had joined up as a teenager, my relative really didn’t
approve of what he saw going on in his own establishments – both the brutality of some of the staff,
as well as the macho culture of violence and exploitation that prevailed among the inmates. By then it
really had become a violent, dog-eat-dog world where the ‘taxing’ (levying of protection money) and
bullying of the weaker boys was thoroughly institutionalised. He told me on many occasions about
how the bigger, tougher lads – dorm captains or ‘daddies’ – actually imposed much of the informal
and violent discipline in the dormitories with the tacit approval and collusion of the housemasters.
"I'm the daddy now!"
I remember that after he had watched the infamous borstal film Scum, directed by Alan Clarke, he
observed that although it had been somewhat sensationalised, he recognised many of the typical
characters, especially the ‘wing daddies’ who terrorised the younger, weaker lads. Totally
disillusioned by his experiences, my relative opted for early retirement before borstals were converted
into youth custody centres.
I did, however, have three personal insights into borstals prior to my own time inside, where I also met
a fair number of borstal ‘graduates’ – now men in their 50s or older, most of whom had extensive
criminal records behind them. When I was still at school, one of my close friends had an elder brother
who was regarded as a bit of a ‘bad lad’. In his mid-teens he smoked, drank, took soft drugs and was
a bit of a bully. He was eventually expelled from his school.
I only really remember him well from visiting my friend’s home on one occasion when I was about
seven or eight. He hit me hard round the ear for nothing other than the pleasure of hearing me cry. He
really wasn’t a nice person and during his mid-teens he ended up in trouble with the law for various
minor offences until he finally pinched a car and went joyriding. He was sent to a borstal in the early
1970s – I believe it was Guys Marsh, although I’m not certain 40 years on.
His brother rarely spoke of him, but after his release I knew that he’d returned home to his family. He
had been damaged by his borstal experience, which I later discovered had included being subjected
to severe abuse (whether by other youths or members of staff I never found out). He resumed
drinking heavily and shortly afterwards was found drowned in the local harbour. It was never
established whether this had been due to suicide or an accidental fall when drunk, so the coroner
returned an open verdict. He was around 23 years old when he died.
Boys at North Sea Camp in 1935
My next exposure to borstal boys was back in the late 1970s when I was a teenager myself. I was
working as a volunteer on an archaeological excavation that was going on right next to what was then
the borstal farm. A work party of boys from the institution was assigned to help us move large piles of
earth in wheelbarrows under the supervision of two grim-faced officers who scowled at us almost as
much as they did at the youths under their direct charge.
I spent a couple of days working alongside these lads and had some chance to chat with them during
breaks. They seemed very subdued. They all had roughly cropped heads – the infamous ‘bad borstal
boy’ haircut – some had fading black eyes, visible bruising or scabs on their hands and arms and all
appeared to be very wary of the two screws watching over them. I asked them about how they were
finding borstal. “It’s f_____ horrible, mate,” they whispered.
Their main interest in me was whether I smoked and had any tobacco to share with them, but they
also wondered why the hell I was doing manual labour without having to be forced to work. I must
admit that I found myself feeling very sorry for them, especially as they were around my own age.
My final personal experience inside a borstal was to actually visit the local establishment several
times in 1980. This came about because I was a member of a youth club that was asked by the
governor to come in and spend some time – mainly playing board games and table tennis or reading
– with some of the younger borstal lads.
A young Ray Winstone in Scum
Just going into the establishment was daunting, including being body searched by staff and getting
dire warnings about not smuggling in any kind of contraband – tobacco, money or sweets. “Or you’ll
find yourself on the wrong side of this wall doing time with these toe-rags”. No-one even mentioned
drugs back then. I do remember that we were specifically instructed never to ask any of the borstal
lads what crime they were in for.
We definitely didn’t get a very warm welcome from the screws on duty – I think they resented the idea
of yet more teenage boys (no girls allowed on these visits for obvious reasons) being foisted on them
to supervise during association periods. Again, the lads were very quiet during these sessions and
scared of even looking up. I played draughts with one who asked me in a whisper whether I smoked,
which I didn’t. It seemed that the main obsession was getting tobacco.
Still from ITV's Bring Back Borstal
It wasn’t a ‘normal’ youth club atmosphere by any stretch of the imagination. I once got told off by a
screw for putting my hand in my own pocket in case I was passing contraband. It wasn’t a nice
experience for a law-abiding teenager like me.
I think the highlight of the evening for the inmates was getting a mug of weak orange squash and a
biscuit. Again, I found myself feeling sorry for these drably uniformed kids as most of them were aged
15 or 16, although some looked a lot younger.
We repeated this grim experience three or four times before the experiment was discontinued. I
suspect that the screws put a stop to it, probably citing security concerns, although I also think that
they didn’t want nosey outsiders – like us – who they couldn’t control talking to the inmates in their
charge during association periods.
Another view of borstal
So, prior to ending up inside an adult prison myself, that was the extent of my own knowledge of our
borstals. Probably a bit more than the average member of the public, but hardly extensive or in-depth.
I’d also read Brendan Behan’s famous autobiographical account Borstal Boy, as well as having seen
the 1962 film of the Alan Sillitoe novel The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, which made
borstal seem like being at a minor public school – which seems to have been the original idea when
the first institution at Borstal in Kent was set up back in 1902.
Years later, while in prison, I met fellow cons who had ‘progressed’ through the entire criminal justice
system: approved schools, borstals, detention centres and finally adult jails. Some of them were
willing to discuss their experiences, but others didn’t want to for reasons I can only guess. However, I
did get the impression that many of the real horrors had been inflicted by fellow borstal boys on each
other, rather than by the screws or other staff.
Violence and intimidation seemed to have been rife, along with extortion (‘taxing’). Few felt that they
had emerged from the experience better people than they were when they were sentenced to ‘borstal
training’, although a couple did recall that they had enjoyed the sport, especially really violent games
such as British Bulldog or Murderball (a kind of no rules basketball). Clearly, since all the people I was
talking to were back in prison – some serving life or very long sentences – the deterrent effect, if any,
of their stint in a borstal had been limited.
Volunteers on Bring Back Borstal
What did become clear, however, was that detention centres in the 1980s were where much of the
real physical, mental – and sexual – abuse seems to have taken place under cover of the Thatcherera ‘short, sharp shock’, introduced by the Conservative government in its Criminal Justice Act (1982).
This provided for young offenders aged 14 to 21 to be sent to the new detention centres for up to four
months for minor offences. It remains to be seen whether more of those who experienced this regime
will start to disclose the extent of the alleged abuses that were committed.
I think that the real disappointment I felt after watching the new ITV Bring Back Borstal show is that it
was a missed opportunity to really explore what interventions would help young offenders turn their
lives around. Hearing snippets from some of their life stories during the show you might conclude that
the sort of methods being proposed by ‘let’s pretend borstal governor’ David Wilson were far too little,
too late for many of these adult males, some of whom were already dads themselves.
These borstal ‘boys’ were actually troubled young men, some of whom had already been in a YOI or
adult jail. Treating them like 1930s teenagers was never really going to achieve very much.
Borstal 'governor': Prof David Wilson
The sense of unreality was compounded by the fact that these were all volunteers who could get on
their toes as soon as the going got a little bit tough – and several did so, much to the obvious
exasperation of Professor Wilson who one suspects might have liked to have had the power to keep
them all there by force until the end of his little ‘experiment’. As we all know, real incarceration just
isn’t like that. There is no choice to go home from prison because a screw yelled at you or tipped you
out of bed early in the morning. Imprisonment is all about not having choices and being forced to
comply or face serious consequences... including real physical pain.
Scene from ITV's Bring Back Borstal
Moreover, all this nonsense was being recorded on camera, thus providing an ideal opportunity for
every class clown to continue playing up, secure in the knowledge that his mates back home would
be having a good laugh with him over a few beers when the show was eventually broadcast. All of this
really writes itself and, to be honest, the whole experiment seems doomed from the start. I really can’t
see how it can get any better in future episodes.
This was a missed opportunity. We are in desperate need of a very well-informed debate about youth
justice in the UK – and about the lack of positive adult male role models for many troubled boys and
young men – but sadly this fanciful punishment-fest TV show wasn’t it.