aliceinexile

[aliceinexile]

Don't call me stupid.

A couple of years ago I watched a very interesting documentary on BBC3 about dyslexia. It was hosted by Kara Tointon, a former soap actress, and astutely titled: “Don’t Call Me Stupid”. I've always liked to think of myself as fairly knowledgeable when it comes to dyslexia, it runs in my family and I've watched both my brother and cousin struggle to varying degrees. My cousin wasn't diagnosed until his first year at university and after taking the test, and upon seeing his result, his lecturer's flabbergasted response was: "I have no idea how you've made it this far." So when I embarked on my teaching career that was one of the many things at the forefront of my mind. I was adamant that I wouldn't be that teacher who failed to notice something so glaring; I wouldn't be the one to let a child down.

I have quickly come to realise that kids, teenagers in particular, are so very, very clever.

Case and point: Child A. At the beginning of my first year as a qualified teacher I was given an S1 class along with my colleagues –consisting of children who ranged from 11-12 years old- and it was like being given a blank slate. Whilst the links between primary schools and secondary schools have no doubt improved over the years, you still get very little in the way of a profile for these children. So they enter high school with virtually nothing to their name, unless they happen to have been diagnosed with an Additional Support Need (ASN) or are a Looked After Child (LAC). The former can range from anything like dyslexia to dyspraxia to autism and back. LAC children can be in foster homes, group homes or simply be living with a relative who isn’t a parent. (The latter is very murky and unless the child themselves discloses their living situation, you don’t have a clue what it is). Anyway, Child A entered the class bright eyed and bushy tailed along with his peers. I took great joy in watching my little S1 students grow over the following weeks, challenging themselves with language techniques and critical essays and discussing characterisation and themes. After a couple of months though, I became concerned about Child A’s progress. A look through his jotter revealed very little at all. His first “official” piece of work (an essay on a text) was like reading –as his mother later described it- hieroglyphics. Now, bear in mind that these kids are given an essay frame to start with, and much of it is ‘fill in the blanks’ style sentences. It’s extremely disconcerting if a child can’t do that and there’s no apparent reason for it. Cue myself, digging through the ASN register, searching for his name. Nothing is there. I go to another teacher, who sees him just once a week, and the first thing she says when I mention his name is: “Well his spelling’s appalling”.

A trip to the ASN department followed, with photocopied work to brandish at the head of department, and a brief discussion took place. I voiced my concerns, the department head listened and a decision was subsequently made to test him. I should probably mention that not every child who finds spelling difficult is going to be dyslexic. However, in addition to this, Child A also couldn’t write at length, struggled to remember basic instructions and could be easily distracted –all of which are hallmark signs of dyslexia. So Child A was tested and a week later I was informed of his reading age. He’s 12 years old and reads at the same level as a 5 year old. It took me two and a half months to notice this. Me! His English teacher! Someone who seems him 4 days every week!

Naturally, I started to beat myself up. How long had he been struggling? Hating the class? Feeling like he was being left behind? Then one of my older, wiser and more experienced colleagues took me aside. She pointed out that I had a class of 33 children; within that class I had 9 pupils with identified ASN who needed varying degrees of assistance, on top of which I had a further 4 classes (all containing 33 students), not to mention I was coaching 3 netball teams and co-producing the school musical. “You can’t see everything,” she told me, “Did he ever ask you for help?”  The answer to which was no, he didn’t. I started to think about it and realised too that he was never one of the eager beavers anxious for a tick in his jotter or a few words of praise after completing a worksheet. His jotter was often “misplaced” or “at home”. When homework was collected in his was always mysteriously missing. He had very cleverly been throwing me off the scent, in such subtle ways that I hadn't even noticed.

Of course the outcome of this situation is still to be seen. He’s now getting in class support, differentiated tasks and goes once a week with a group to work on basic literacy skills. Has his ASN been identified early enough? I hope so. My first instinct, upon his diagnosis, was to jump to conclusions. How did I not notice? How did his primary school teachers not realise? Why didn't his mother ever contact the school?

The answer is simple. Kids are smart.

[aliceinexile]

The reality of being a teacher. 

[aliceinexile]

"So these two guys are gay for each other, yeah?"

A 3rd year pupil's response to chapter one of "Of Mice and Men"

[aliceinexile]

"I hate this book. It's not even in English!"

A 6th year student on "Romeo and Juliet".