My brother who is now 37 years old was diagnosed with dyslexia but only after having been painfully placed into what was then called an L.D. class (learning disabled was the term used at the time). It was an inner city school and people in his class had severe disablities that ranged all over the place, from cerebral palsy to behavior issues. In short the six months he spent in that class really hurt his idea of himself in a lot of ways. For example our neighborhood friends would not associate with him at school (because he was in the L.D. class) and after six months he was tested again and go figure he hadnt learned anything.
At that point my parents pulled him out of public school and took every penny they had to put him into a school where they specialized in dyslexia.
It helped. It didnt help hugely but it did help some, enough for him to go on to have a normal life. He remembers that his self esteem was a lot better off in the new school.
The point of telling this is that I knew, I had seen, growing up, what it looked like for a child to suffer at the hand of ignorant adults who knew so little about what we now call learning differences.
These days we take a pottery class together. He is wonderful, he also is a fabulous sculpturer. My pottery skills leave a lot to be desired but that's okay, I know my strengths.
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