On Monday I went to Whitchurch School, near Ross on Wye. Small groups of children had been brought along from other local primaries fro the morning. These children were all blessed with dyslexia and other similar language gifts.
Am I being over-politically correct saying that dyslexia is a blessing? I think not. Of course in a world of type and written language it can hold you back, but that is the world as perceived by language blessed people, who tend to be in the majority and tend to be the majority in the field of education.
Of course, when I were a lad, I was just called thick and stupid and sent to sit at the back of the class. I’d love to know if I needed glasses even then and couldn’t see the board properly.
If everyone could write brilliantly, what a boring world we would live in. Where would be the master chefs, the the artists, the cushion-makers, the entertainers and the carers?
It was great to talk to the children and show them the methods I’ve worked out over the years. I noticed one or two having that, “I’m like that!” moment. I’m afraid, in the end, I couldn’t offer too much other than to work methodically through the problem and to work hard at it. That is pretty much the answer to everything. But within my methodical system, I have a large chunk devoted to the creative part. And that was what these children seemed to really enjoy, full of ideas, imagination and possibilities. There always comes a time though, when you have to stop the fun, decide what to do wit h what you’ve got and do the work. That is the hard part whether you are dyslexic or not. That is about self discipline.
When I was young, we were maybe taught self-discipline a bit more. All our teachers had been through the second world war – my history teacher had been a tail gunner in a Lancaster – his nerves were shot, but we respected him all the same. I was an army brat, went to boarding school and was in the Cubs an Scouts. The education we had was basically training us for the services or some kind of colonial duty. Maybe I learned some self discipline from all of that.
I do wonder now, when we bribe children to read, with prizes and stickers, whether that might be detrimental to the cause. Reading is its own pleasure and prize. Getting a sticker at the end distorts the aim. A prize for analysis or for reading out loud maybe but the act and art of reading should be its own reward – or you are reading a rotten book!
We came up with a great story about the ElieFly that invaded the school at lunchtime. I won’t go into all the gross detail. Suffice to say it had a neat ending when the gym wallbars were converted into the world’s largest flyswat! and quick end with a lot of middle and a beginning that probably needs a bit more work!
Thanks for a great day.