Dyslexic and Artistic Me

Whenever I try to read a book or anything with words in it, the letters float and dance before my eyes. As much as I’d like to, I can’t read. Growing up, my teachers would always ask me to stay after class to practice reading.

“I’ve already taught you a hundred times! C-A is read ka. So how do you read C-A-T?” Teacher Dianne asked in frustration as she pointed to the word cat.

She would call my mother to fetch me and my mother would repeatedly apologize to her. “I’m sorry, Teacher Dianne. I’ll make sure to make him practice reading at home.” I went home in tears almost every afternoon.

I hate reading. I’d rather listen to the audiobooks that my older sister listens to every morning. On weekends, I go to the river near our house and spend hours watching the fish and tadpoles. On weekdays, I spend most of my time sketching and drawing while listening to music.

“Stop drawing, Steve! Stop wasting your time. You should be practicing how to read.” Mama would keep all my art materials and pull out my English book from my bag. “Come here and sit at the table. Let’s do this. We have been practicing this for weeks now. Why can’t you just read like your classmates? The words in here are not even difficult.” There were tears in her eyes when she said this.

“Why are you angry, Ma? Did I do anything wrong?” I asked. She shook her head and started pointing at the words on the page, prompting me to read.

One afternoon, I saw her step out of the Guidance Office. I was very happy to see her. The expression on her face was unreadable when our eyes met. I ran to her. “What were you doing there, Ma? Why were you in the guidance office?” I asked. She smiled at me, ruffled my hair and hugged me. “Come on. Let’s go home.” She took my bag and held my hand.

I don’t know what my mother was doing in there, but I’ve been allowed to draw and paint as much as I want after that afternoon. Teacher Dianne and the other teachers have been kinder to me, too.

“Steve, why don’t you show us some of your drawings and paintings?” I was surprised when Teacher Dianne showed interest in my artwork. I flipped through the pages of my sketchbook in front of her.

“Amazing! These are great work, Steve! Is it okay if I include this in the Art Exhibit?” I didn’t know what to say, but my excitement must have been painted all over my face. Teacher Dianne showed it to the whole class and all my classmates applauded.