How Learning Disabilities Changed My Life

Mrs S held up my notebook on display for the entire class of giggling grade II students. I stood next to her, blood rushing to my cheeks, my hands clenched into fists by my side.
 

She took her own time to point out my untidy handwriting, the points where the paper was torn because I had applied too much pressure on the pencil and the incomplete work in the previous pages. She examined my drawings and wondered aloud what they were supposed to be. She wound down her long speech by telling the students that this was an example of what they should not follow.
 

Then she threw the book on my desk and told me to stand by the blackboard for the remainder of the class.
 

My struggles with dyslexia and dysgraphia began at an early age. Coupled with high-functioning autism, my academic proficiency seemed nowhere near my peers. My first school began to apply pressure on my parents to remove me from their rolls and advised them to place me in a special school. This was after my parents had got back to the school with a formal diagnosis and a list of suggestions from the child psychiatrist for including me in the mainstream classroom. The principal simply told us that it was difficult for them to do anything extra for me in a class with 30 students.
 

My childhood was spent between school and therapy sessions in different parts of Delhi. At home, my parents began implementing different ways to help me learn to read, comprehend and write. It would take me hours to do homework that might have taken another child 5-10 minute to complete. I hated going to school. I would avoid writing as my wrist and fingers would hurt by writing just a few words. Reading was a chore. I wished it all away. The only thing I ever enjoyed doing was Math. It was direct, logical and made total sense to me.
 

It could have been easy for my parents to take the easy way out and throw their hands up. But luckily, my parents never gave up on me. My mother would teach me spellings by making me move to the sound of each letter and using a sing-song voice. She would make subject worksheets based on my favourite themes like Ben-10 and Power Rangers, just so I would lose the resistance to begin my work.
 

I would feel useless. Every time I rebelled against doing my assignments, I would feel the frustration building up inside me. I would remember the jibes of the teachers, the snide remarks at school, the way my classmates avoided taking me into their game and anger would bubble up. Evenings and weekends, the times I had to complete my pending classwork and homework, were an endless stream of tears, tantrums and melt downs. My parents would stand solidly next to me, patting my back, hugging me or just holding my hand. After I calmed down, I would mostly fall asleep and that was that!
 

My parents would sit me down and tell me that it wasn’t my fault and they would find a different way to make my school work more enjoyable. They would talk to me about how brains work and how some brains, like mine, were just wired differently. They talked about strategies they had googled, telling me ways in which I could train my brain to be more open. I would understand what they said perfectly. When they would finally hand over the homework to me, I would begin in all earnestness. It would take me 2 minutes to lose it all over again.
 

My parents struggled to get the school to accept photocopies pasted in the notebook instead of me writing down everything. That eased the burden quite a bit. The school counsellor would try hard to get me support using the recommendations from my therapists. But she was up against the school’s idea of what a good student should be like!

 

Finally, a move to a different and more sensitised school in grade V, made a marked difference to me personally. For the first time, I felt accepted by my peers and teachers. With my frustrations at the previous school gradually receding and with new friends by my side, I felt more confident of addressing my academics by myself.
 

I was taught theory subjects by a special educator and slowly things began to fall in place. I learnt a few things about myself too. I had no problem understanding concepts and explaining them. Writing them in an acceptable format was the issue. Later, I came to know later that this was Dysgraphia. I wanted to remain in class with my friends and not be taken out for remedials or special education. The only way out was to become a part of the mainstream classroom.
 

I was advised open schooling to shield me from the academic rigours of mainstream school. I rebelled against the misconception that my disability hindered my capability and I worked hard to prove them wrong.
 

As they say, necessity is the mother of invention. When there is a goal to motivate us, finding the way becomes mandatory. I guess my understanding of the world around me began to change and I learnt to accept myself for who I was.
 

My parents had given me a full disclosure of my diagnoses of autism, dyslexia and dysgraphia. They would always tell me that my diagnoses was to help me do my personal best in everything I did and should never be used as an excuse to not do what I disliked. I felt more motivated and mentally better equipped to deal with my ‘issues.’ I decided to follow my parents’ advise. If I wanted something, I must be the one to do something about it.
 

I learnt to harness my resilience to navigate my goals. I rationed my social media activities and explored experiential learning styles to stand up to my learning disability. I understood that I could not retain information I did not understand well. I kept a relentless focus on concepts and began annotating my textbooks for better understanding. I created flash cards and looked up YouTube videos for conceptual clarity. I focussed on task completion and submitting work on time. I progressed from writing my answers in points to ensuring they were in complete sentences and then moved on to begin writing it in the format the education board required. I took feedback seriously and worked on it. It was not easy and results were not instantaneous but I did progress significantly.
 
Encouraged by my progress my teachers motivated me to take up challenging courses. My perseverance paid off when I exceeded their expectations in the national examinations, SAT Math and AP Calculus. A subject topper in computer science, I also completed several certified courses in Python, data science and machine learning from reputed universities like Stanford and Michigan.
 

Over the years of being called a special child, I now know that I am not the only one. As I look around, I see others struggling to be understood in different ways. I personally know the issues and the roadblocks to acceptance and self-realisation. I have seen many of my friends with other invisible disabilities struggle with their problems. Many parents refuse to divulge details of the diagnosis even to their own children thinking it would erode their confidence. They don’t talk about it as they fear being stigmatised by their extended family and friends. For me, talking about my issues is liberating and empowering. The more I talk to others about it, the better I understand myself. I am able to look not just at the problems my learning disabilities gave me, but also at possible solutions. I know today, that even if every problem does not have a solution, I can find other ways to cope with it.
 

This was the main reason that I started to talk about my life story. I want open discussions, so others understand that we are right there with them, working hard at being productive citizens. Having disabilities does not make us useless. It often gives others a different perspective of things they take for granted. Neurodiversity must be embraced in society so no child who is neurodiverse feels guilty, neglected or useless. As a self-advocate, I promise myself that I shall continue to work towards enabling a more inclusive and neurodiverse society.