Twenty years ago I learned a new synonym for the word frustration: dyslexia. I first saw the term in a report by a pediatrician, who cited dyslexia as an explanation for the fact that our youngest daughter Lisa, could not learn to read. The physician pointed out that the word dyslexia was often used to describe the characteristics of some children who have difficulty in school. The dyslexic child is one who exhibits all or some of a variety of behaviors such as (a) difficulty learning to read, or reading slowly and with much difficulty, despite average to above average intelligence, (b) spelling words “just the way they sound,” (c) sloppy, seemingly careless handwriting, (d) not remembering which is to the right or left and cannot make straight columns of figures in math, (e) inconsistent performance from day to day (e.g., material the student knew well on Monday, often needs to be relearned on Tuesday), (f) reversing letters, numbers, and words (e.g., b for d, saw for was, gril for girl), (g) difficulty following oral directions, (h) inability to express himself/herself orally in a well‑organized way, (i) is considered lazy or rebellious, (j) a short attention span, (k) often very artistic, musically talented, and can repair almost anything, and (l) discouraged or angry.
As parents we were relieved to know that there was a reason for our child’s academic struggles. Her superb first grade teacher, Mrs. Hazel Smith, shared our reaction and modified her teaching accordingly. By the end of first grade, Lisa was in the top reading group. Tragically for Lisa, Mrs. Smith’s astuteness and her approach to teaching proved to be totally unique. For the next five years Lisa struggled from grade to grade, hanging on by her fingernails.
At first we were baffled, then angry and frustrated, to discover that most administrators and teachers did not consider dyslexia either a diagnosis for, or an explanation of, our child’s failure to learn in school. These professionals accounted for Lisa’s inability to learn in ways that contradicted her behavior at home. Teachers suggested she could learn if she were not “lazy.” But Lisa was our only child who consistently did her chores thoroughly, without being told. Almost every report card stated that she needed to “try harder.” However, the Lisa we knew demonstrated a determination to learn far beyond her years. For instance, when she was in the sixth grade, at her request, I taught her how to sew. By the time Lisa was in the eighth grade she was making most of her own clothing. At age fifteen, she was routinely making garments I had neither the courage, nor the ability to attempt. But the most damaging (and unconscionable) “reason” for Lisa’s failure to learn, was the insinuation by teachers that she did not have sufficient intelligence to learn. Yet this child’s test scores on the Stanford‑Binet Test were in her folder, available for review by any teacher interested enough to do so. Test scores placed her in the 94th percentile, or “superior” range. The psychologist evaluating the test had further observed that Lisa’s potential was “possibly higher.”
At some point Lisa became aware of her teachers’ perception of her intelligence, and in defiance signed her papers: Lisa the Intelligent. Teachers were amused, but we, her parents wept for her, because she invariably misspelled the word “intelligent.” The condemnation and failure continued year after year until sixth grade.
Then Nancy King, a teacher of a different genre, came into our lives. This woman had the knowledge, the understanding and the methodology to enable our daughter to learn. For the first time in five years Lisa was in an appropriate learning environment. As a result, she began to learn on a consistent basis. In addition, Lisa began to “. . . learn how to learn. . .” (Slingerland, 1976, p. x). More importantly, as Lisa received this desperately needed respite from failure, her battered self‑esteem began to heal. Unfortunately for Lisa, it was too little, too late. Nevertheless the year with Mrs. King was a landmark experience for Lisa, and as it turned out, for me.
When Mrs. King mentioned to students that she needed a parent to come to school to help her teach handwriting, Lisa volunteered my help on the spot, asserting that, “My mother would love to help you teach handwriting.” Somewhat reluctantly, I agreed to assist Mrs. King. It was one of the most fortuitous decisions of my life. Lisa’s impulsive statement set into motion a series of events which would dramatically alter the course of my life.
My daughter was correct: I loved teaching handwriting, or anything else for that matter, to children (and later to adults and adolescents) with dyslexia. Eventually, I opened a private practice as a tutor and consultant for adults and children with dyslexia. It was in this capacity that I learned my second synonym for frustration: home school.
Prior to the winter of 1985, I was aware of home school as an educational option exercised only by families living in the “Bush” of Alaska. However, during the winter of 1985, I began receiving telephone calls from very frustrated mothers who were teaching their children at home even though they lived within busing distance of a public school. It soon became obvious why these parents had opted to home school their children. The parents I spoke with essentially said the same things:
My child has not been able to learn reading, writing or spelling well enough to do more than just survive in both public school and private school. According to the doctor there is nothing wrong with his/her hearing, vision or intelligence. My child has been retained, tested and psychoanalyzed. I have had a private tutor and weekly conferences with the classroom teacher. I have tried punishment, bribery and pressure. As a last resort, I tried home school. I have not been able to do any better than the schools; even in the tutorial setting of home school, my child is not learning. I have exhausted my options. What can I do?
How well I knew the question, and the despair behind it. Through further discussion with home school teacher-parents however, I realized that I misunderstood what they were really saying. I had assumed home school parents were asking for tutoring schedules and costs. They were not. Home school teachers had accepted the awesome responsibility for the education of their children, and they were not about to abandon their mission. “What can I do?” actually meant, “Can you teach me how to teach my child?”
I did not know the answer to that question, primarily because if, as the description seemed to indicate, the children involved were dyslexic, home school parent/teachers would have to learn a very technical and complex approach to teaching. I hedged on the answer for a long time. Initially, I could not envision parents as effective formal educators of children with dyslexia. To be honest, I had serious reservations about the merits of home school for any child. My greatest reluctance however, stemmed from my unwillingness to offer hope of success, when in fact I might be providing yet another failure experience for both student and teacher.
But continued contact with home school parents began to ease my apprehension, and I started to give the question serious consideration. Home school teachers had not been able to teach their children “any better than the schools” because they were using the same approach to teaching that the schools were using. Children with dyslexia cannot respond to conventional classroom methods which are successful with most students (Cox, 1983). In 1968 the World Federation of Neurology stated that dyslexia was “a disorder in children, who, despite conventional classroom experience, fail to attain the language skills of reading, writing and spelling commensurate with their intellectual abilities.” In order to teach their children with dyslexia, home school teachers would have to learn an unconventional way to teach – simultaneous multisensory instruction.
Simultaneous multisensory instruction is a non‑traditional approach to teaching language: reading, writing and spelling (often oral language as well). This method enables a student to simultaneously utilize three modalities: vision, audition, and kinesthetic-motor. Simultaneous multisensory instruction is extraordinarily difficult for the teacher to learn, and even more difficult to teach. Moreover, this approach is so complicated that perhaps only five percent1 of all trained classroom teachers who attempt to master the technique are able to do so.
To me, the odds seemed overwhelmingly against home school teachers being able to learn simultaneous multisensory instruction, until I discovered that many home school teachers and trained conventional school teachers who are successful with the approach had some of the same characteristics.
For example, most home school teacher/parents I have dealt with are superb intuitive diagnosticians. Home school teachers do not know the terminology to describe the difficulty children experience, but as Stevens (1980, p. 183) notes, “Parents do know when something is wrong with their child.” While successful conventional classroom teachers tend to use the “right” jargon, their diagnosis is often intuitive also, rather than formal. In addition, both home school and classroom teachers had assumed the responsibility for the fact that their children/students were not learning. But home school parents possessed an intangible quality that weighted the odds in their favor somewhat, one that training and education alone can never provide: a mother’s love and commitment. The students at risk were the home school teachers’ own children and these mothers refused to give up on them. Eventually, I began to consider the possibility that home school teacher-parents could learn and teach simultaneous multisensory instruction.
In July of 1986, I put the possibility to a test. With the assistance of a colleague, Barbara Robek, I held the first workshop to train home school parent/teachers. The program I selected was one developed for use in public schools (West Elementary School), which I modified for home school parents. Although some of my original apprehension had been alleviated, I still approached the venture in fear and trembling.
However, as the workshop progressed it became apparent that my fears and doubts about the skillfulness of home school teachers were unfounded. They achieved a level of competency far beyond what I had even considered remotely possible. I cautiously cheered their success. Experience had taught me that a competent performance in a workshop, does not a competent teacher make.
The workshop did not end, as do most workshops, with an evaluation of instructor performance. That evaluation would, in effect, be written by the students of the participating parent/teachers. The sign of positive evaluation would be straightforward: Children who had previously experienced academic failure would begin to succeed. The measure of that success would be determined by the home school parent/teacher answering either a yes or a no to the question: “Can you teach me how to teach my child?” From those home school teachers who chose to use simultaneous multisensory instruction, the response, was a loud and resounding “yes.”
Since July of 1986, 70 home school have attended workshops on simultaneous multisensory isntruction. Through contact with a home school coordinator, I have monitored the progress of approximately half of the teachers and their students. All of the children involved have made significant gains in the areas of reading, handwriting, and spelling.2 Several of the students have shown dramatic changes. In one instance, a boy who began the school year as a non-reader (despite two years in the first grade), concluded the year reading at third grade level. Another child’s writing improved to the point that after one year of home school she was able to attend private school the following year. Two years later, this girl is a seventh grade honor student.
Once there was tangible evidence of the ability of home school teachers to learn a multisensory approach, it became apparent that home school teachers needed a method more appropriate for their specific needs. I have addressed this need throughout the development of Simultaneous Multisensory Instruction for Home School Teachers (Fuller, 1988).
At this juncture I can only speculate about the difference home school might have made for my daughter, Lisa, even without simultaneous multisensory instruction. She is a competent, capable adult; manufacturing and marketing her own line of custom sportswear. But Lisa became a successful adult despite public education, not because of it.
Tragically, schools do not simply fail to teach children with dyslexia how to read, write and spell, but blame the children for the failure of the system. The resulting emotional damage, persists into adulthood. Although Gould (1981, p. 28, 29) was discussing biological determinism, he could have been describing the anguish of a child or adult with dyslexia when he said, “We pass through this world but once. Few tragedies can be more extensive than the stunting of life, few injustices deeper than the denial of an opportunity to strive or even to hope, by a limit imposed from without, but falsely identified as lying within.”
Lunacy is often inferred, if not assumed, as the only plausible explanation one could offer for choosing to teach a child at home. But for some children who learn differently, home school is not an option, it is an imperative.
Endnotes
1 This percentage represents my personal opinion only. It is based on my experience as an instructor in summer workshops for public/private school teachers.
2 As of this writing, the home school coordinator is compiling data for formal analysis.
References
Cox, A. (1983). Programming for teachers of dyslexics. Annals of Dyslexia, 33, 221‑242.
Fuller, N. D. (1988). Simultaneous Multisensory Instruction For Home School Teachers. Unpublished manuscript. Available from Alternative Learning Systems, P.O. Box 873004, Wasilla, Alaska 99687.
Gould, S. (1981). The mismeasure of man. New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc..
Slingerland, B. (1976). A multi‑Sensory approach to language arts for specific language disability children: A guide for primary teachers. Cambridge, MA: Educators Publishing Service, Inc..
Stevens, S. (1980). The learning disabled child: Ways that parents can help. Winston‑Salem, NC: John F. Blair, Publisher.
West Elementary School. (no date). Project Success for the SLD Child. Wayne, NE: Wayne‑Carroll School District.
World Federation of Neurology. (1968). Research group on developmental dyslexia and world illiteracy.
HOME SCHOOL: FOR SOME AN OPTION, FOR OTHERS AN IMPERATIVE
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