I recall having a very tight-sickening feeling in my gut as the professor handed back the exams. I know it is not the
coolest thing to do, but I caught glimpses of others grades as they were handed back. From what I could tell most
people did fairly well, with grades in the 80's and 90's being the norm. The sick feeling in my gut was caused directly
by my experience with exams in this class that had been disasters in the preceding weeks. My first exam had been
in the low 50's, which was quite the shock to me, to say the least. It turned out that this exam back today was
around a 48 percent. Moments later found me outside pacing and chain smoking all the time beating up on myself
about what I did wrong. I actually did study, contrary to my days in high school in the late 1980's. No, this was
different, I wanted to be in university, I wanted to learn this subject. It was a subject that I had a genuine interest
in, and I did not want to mess this up.
I did study for this exam, I did attempt to read the material, I did take notes in class. Although taking notes was
difficult. When ever the professor would lecture, I had a tough time trying to remember how to write the first
letter of a word when I started writing. Here I was in my early-30's, I had been responsible for an F-14A Tomcat at
the age of 20, had lived in a cabin in Alaska for four years, had been in various parts of the World, had driven the
ALCAN highway alone twice,...but I could not for the life of me recall how to write a capital T. Most often I would
just print the letter and write the in cursive, but usually I was a good 45 seconds behind the lecture and therefor
missed a lot of information. Along with the substantial time lag in taking notes, I would forget to add a letter to a
word, but would remember it after the word was written and go back and write it in. Needless to say, I had a tough
time reading my own writing days later.
Reading the course material was another fiasco. I can read, I am not illiterate, that mush I do know. But
somehow, I tend to lose interest after reading for a while, I tend to daydream at the same time trying to remember
what I had just read. I tend to skip over entire words at times as well, I do the same with my writing as well, and
that can spell disaster at times. As one can imagine, the Spring Semester of 2006 at the University of Toledo was
a washout. In many ways I just got frustrated and walked away. The class that I was taking that I had written about
in the preceding page was as Anthropology class about Human Evolution, a subject that I had a keen interest in.
I was hoping to go into the Anthropology Field, something I had always had an interest in the back of my mind. The
way the class was laid out, lectures and note taking, and all written exams might not be a major barrier for a normal
university student, but for someone who is Dyslexic...it turned out to be next to impossible, at least for me at the
time.
Dyslexia...I had been diagnosed with Dyslexia somewhere around age 10-12 years of age. For someone who has
a fairly good long-term memory, I don't recall much from those times. I do remember go to Dr. Levinson on Long
Island, New York in 1982 or 1983 and going through a battery of tests and being diagnosed there as Dyslexic. My
Sister went along as well.
Being diagnosed made me eligible for "special" classes in Jr. and Senior High School. The thought of going to
classes like that at a time when one is in their early teens and wanting to be accepted by my peers so badly made
me horrified. Never the less I did not partake of extra help and soldiered on through the best I could. Granted my
school records from high school is downright embarrassing, I did good enough to graduate high school. Nine days
later, I started U.S. Navy Boot Camp at Great Lakes, Il..
Following my time in the Service, I attended university on and off. I did great in some classes, all right in others,
and downright dreadful in some. All the while not thinking about getting help for being dyslexic. I guess over the
years I had developed enough "coping skills" to just get by. That was until my experience in the Spring Semester
of 2006 hit my in the face. I then realised that dyslexia might be a major hurdle in my actually graduating university,
and making something of myself. Shortly after that, I developed a keen interest in my dyslexia, and that brings us
to what I am doing right now...
coolest thing to do, but I caught glimpses of others grades as they were handed back. From what I could tell most
people did fairly well, with grades in the 80's and 90's being the norm. The sick feeling in my gut was caused directly
by my experience with exams in this class that had been disasters in the preceding weeks. My first exam had been
in the low 50's, which was quite the shock to me, to say the least. It turned out that this exam back today was
around a 48 percent. Moments later found me outside pacing and chain smoking all the time beating up on myself
about what I did wrong. I actually did study, contrary to my days in high school in the late 1980's. No, this was
different, I wanted to be in university, I wanted to learn this subject. It was a subject that I had a genuine interest
in, and I did not want to mess this up.
I did study for this exam, I did attempt to read the material, I did take notes in class. Although taking notes was
difficult. When ever the professor would lecture, I had a tough time trying to remember how to write the first
letter of a word when I started writing. Here I was in my early-30's, I had been responsible for an F-14A Tomcat at
the age of 20, had lived in a cabin in Alaska for four years, had been in various parts of the World, had driven the
ALCAN highway alone twice,...but I could not for the life of me recall how to write a capital T. Most often I would
just print the letter and write the in cursive, but usually I was a good 45 seconds behind the lecture and therefor
missed a lot of information. Along with the substantial time lag in taking notes, I would forget to add a letter to a
word, but would remember it after the word was written and go back and write it in. Needless to say, I had a tough
time reading my own writing days later.
Reading the course material was another fiasco. I can read, I am not illiterate, that mush I do know. But
somehow, I tend to lose interest after reading for a while, I tend to daydream at the same time trying to remember
what I had just read. I tend to skip over entire words at times as well, I do the same with my writing as well, and
that can spell disaster at times. As one can imagine, the Spring Semester of 2006 at the University of Toledo was
a washout. In many ways I just got frustrated and walked away. The class that I was taking that I had written about
in the preceding page was as Anthropology class about Human Evolution, a subject that I had a keen interest in.
I was hoping to go into the Anthropology Field, something I had always had an interest in the back of my mind. The
way the class was laid out, lectures and note taking, and all written exams might not be a major barrier for a normal
university student, but for someone who is Dyslexic...it turned out to be next to impossible, at least for me at the
time.
Dyslexia...I had been diagnosed with Dyslexia somewhere around age 10-12 years of age. For someone who has
a fairly good long-term memory, I don't recall much from those times. I do remember go to Dr. Levinson on Long
Island, New York in 1982 or 1983 and going through a battery of tests and being diagnosed there as Dyslexic. My
Sister went along as well.
Being diagnosed made me eligible for "special" classes in Jr. and Senior High School. The thought of going to
classes like that at a time when one is in their early teens and wanting to be accepted by my peers so badly made
me horrified. Never the less I did not partake of extra help and soldiered on through the best I could. Granted my
school records from high school is downright embarrassing, I did good enough to graduate high school. Nine days
later, I started U.S. Navy Boot Camp at Great Lakes, Il..
Following my time in the Service, I attended university on and off. I did great in some classes, all right in others,
and downright dreadful in some. All the while not thinking about getting help for being dyslexic. I guess over the
years I had developed enough "coping skills" to just get by. That was until my experience in the Spring Semester
of 2006 hit my in the face. I then realised that dyslexia might be a major hurdle in my actually graduating university,
and making something of myself. Shortly after that, I developed a keen interest in my dyslexia, and that brings us
to what I am doing right now...
