Though I had taken classes in Psychology and my whole life been of aware of learning disorders, I never quite understood what they were until I started teaching. I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that no matter how many times I went over the alphabet with one of my fifth grader's, she still couldn't pronounce or write the letters properly. This frustrated me. I have first graders who know English better than she does. I wasn't sure if it was me and the way I was teaching or if it was her. So, I consulted the teacher:
"Listen, my student is so stubborn. She doesn't even try. She cheats and opens her notebooks when I ask her questions."
The teacher told me she has a learning disability. She said she has short term memory loss. Okay, I get it. But that is no excuse-- my student doesn't practice and this isn't going anywhere.
I started to reflect inwards. I thought about how when I was at the height of my depression, certain family members just did not get it. They thought I was lazy and that the chemical disorder was something I could turn on and off . But it wasn't. I remember feeling like the black sheep that was looked down upon as a hassle.
It's hard to believe that a certain condition exists when you are an outsider looking in on something that you already have a biased view toward. And I'll be honest, I still don't totally get the complexity of a learning disorder. But I do know what it is like to be misunderstood for a behavior that is beyond my control. And I do know that the most I can give my students is the benefit of the doubt. I can view their disability with compassion and be empathetic towards their own struggles. I can sit them down one on one and give them the attention and respect that they deserve-- regardless of high or low achievements.
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