Health: Mental & Physical, Stories

You’re not slow and you’re not stupid, you’re just dyslexic: Overcoming my inferiority complex

December 6, 2020

“Chiedza seems to struggle a little whilst reading in class and I hope she can still maintain the sense of what is happening.”

I’m dyslexic, you should know that about me.

Side Bar – I also have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). It’s very common for a person to have both and it’s important to note, because there’s a lot of crossover. But, we’re not going to focus on that today – Exit Side Bar.

It’s not something that I often advertise for fear that I’ll be treated differently, which sadly happens. When it does, the difference in treatment often taps into the slight inferiority complex that I had growing up.

See, I only found out that I had dyslexia at the age of 19. Until then, I had no explanation for my … ‘quirks’. And so, in school when I’d struggle, but watch the rest of the class sail by on what would be a seemingly “easy” topic, I’d feel slow and unintelligent – which is just sad.

Despite my rather obvious dyslexic tendencies and my parents’ best supportive efforts, due to contradicting Specific Learning Difficulty (SPLD) assessment results in year 7, both my senior schools failed to recognise my dyslexia. To add, throughout all my education I encountered very few teachers who had been educated on what an SPLD is, what to look for and how to support a child that has one.

There were many opportunities throughout my primary and secondary education for teachers to pick up on my difference. However, in all the 13 years that I had been at school, only one of them ever understood that it was because I had an SPLD and pushed for me to be retested. Though, by that point, it was kind of too late.

To put it bluntly; the education system failed me on many levels and at many turns and as years went by, the inferiority complex within me grew. But, I’m getting ahead of myself; what exactly is dyslexia?

“6.3 million people (around 10% of the UK population) have dyslexia.”

– Gov.UK

As coined in 1887 by ophthalmologist Rudolf Berlin, dyslexia – meaning ‘difficulty with words’ – is a language based Specific Learning Difficulty that is defined as affecting your reading, writing and spelling. But, that’s not all.

Dyslexia is not just language. It’s thinking, learning or arriving at conclusions differently; it’s the reason for one’s extraordinary or poor maths ability; it’s having the answers to equations, but not knowing how you got there; it’s fleeting concentration; it’s disorganisation and poor time keeping; it’s forgetfulness and an inability to understand jokes or sarcasm; it’s difficulty interpreting social cues, expressing feelings or building self-esteem.

Like other SPLDs, such as dyscalculic and dysgraphia, dyslexia is a comorbid disorder associated with Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD). Thus, the two share sensory processing issues, emotional dysregulation (i.e. meltdowns) and trouble with social skills.

So, as you can see, it can affect a lot.

Though, I note that dyslexia is not a ‘one size fits all’ condition. How it impacts one’s life is unique to the individual. For example, if you have two dyslexic children, one can be a slow reader and have the memory of an elephant, while the other reads like Usain Bolt runs, however can’t repeat the four numbers you just asked them to remember.

Another thing worth noting; it has nothing to do with your vision, nor does it impact one’s intellect. You can be extremely bright and dyslexic at the same time. I mean, look at Albert Einstein; dyslexic and yet, the most influential physicist of the 20th century.

So, you see, our potential is limitless.

“The current system is failing dyslexic pupils. Research suggests dyslexic children are more likely to suffer low self-esteem, poor motivation and concentration.”

– The Secret Teacher, The Guardian

Not having an explanation for my quirks often made me feel inadequate; a feeling that could be either intensified or dampened depending on the teacher, where the ones who did the former  really did their best to make my insecurities soar.

My year 3 teacher for example. She was rather draconian with her regular spelling tests, in which I’d regularly get 1, 2 or 3, if I was having a good day. When she’d return our marks she’d often comment on our achievement, or in my case, lack thereof. She was rarely kind to me, would often ridicule me and even made me cry on multiple occasions and because of this I feared spelling and English tests for years after. She was the perfect example of how not to treat a child. She was also the perfect example of someone who had no idea what to look out for.

My year 9 physics teacher was also ignorant, but in very different way. She had some form of awareness, though it wasn’t great. To her, children with learning difficulties were dim, had a capped level of intelligence, needed to be spoken to as if they were in primary school and were never going grow. She, like many, didn’t understand that sometimes when a child with an SPLD struggles in a subject, it’s not because their specific condition restricts them. Rather, it’s that they need to approach things from a different angle – something she was never willing to do with my dyslexic classmates. Though I wasn’t a known dyslexic at the time, she shared the same reluctance with me. I remember one parent’s evening; we had just been given our end of term results. Not to brag, but I got 72%!

Side Bar – before you ask, yes, I recall the exact mark. Another thing you should know about me; I’m that person who will remember the exact date and time that you crossed me, the colour of your shoes and the cologne you were wearing. But I’m not crazy, I just have a really good memory, okay? 😊 – Exit Side Bar.

Both my mum and I were buzzing, but all my teacher had to express was disappointment. She explained that the way in which I absorbed information and arrived at answers was ‘different’ to everyone else and that she was ‘disappointed’ that I had failed to do it in the way that she had taught – which, for the record, is one of the most obvious tells in dyslexic students.

“I could be a little Einstein!”, I told her as I snatched my test from her hands. “My potential is limitless!” I said; flipping my hair and stomping out the room.

Okay, that didn’t really happen. No, instead I just took it. It was a weird moment for me, because finally I had found success in my difference, but there she was telling me that I hadn’t.

Another teacher who was determined to tell me that I hadn’t? My A-level Chemistry teacher who, instead of waiting until parent’s evening to chastise me for my alternate methods, would simply tell me at regular intervals during class that I was going to fail his subject if I didn’t sort myself out. The inferiority complex truly reached its peak then.

“I do not always feel that Chiedza has the necessary focus and drive, because she is capable of very good results and these are not always evident.”

Much like every story has its villains, there’s a hero here too.

As I mentioned before, despite the long list of teachers who failed to spot the dyslexia, there was one who did. She was also one of my Chemistry teachers, though she was nothing like Mr Crush Your Spirits. No, Miss G was kind and attentive. She took note of my mannerisms and expressions and made the effort to familiarise herself with my quirks. She never told me off when I’d get restless or affirm thoughts of failure when I did things differently or didn’t understand. She took the time to sit down with me in class and explain things in a way that I’d comprehend. It was a small effort on her part, but one with an immeasurable impact on my self-esteem.

I can honestly say, that not all my teachers were like the mean 3 referenced today. A lot of them did their best to support me, but this moment truly goes out to Miss G. For the first 15 minutes of her class I’d always be lost. But she took the time, every lesson without fail, to silently affirm to me that I wasn’t slow and I wasn’t stupid and that I was capable of everything that my classmates were. I just needed to be taught differently.

17-years-old, four different schools, easily 30 – 40 different teachers and yet, only one has ever told my parents that I needed to be tested for an SPLD; Miss G. Though by the time she understood what I had, I was half way through my A-levels and it had to wait until university.

As a result of too little targeted support and stringent tests, I worry many will enter secondary school believing themselves to be failures. But I don’t feel I’m in a position to give these children the level of help they need or deserve.

– The Secret Teacher, The Guardian

For years I’ve been asking myself: how does someone go through their entire education with undiagnosed dyslexia? And I only ever arrive at one answer: an ill-equipped education system that was not built to, nor has it effectively adapted to support people like me. Even when a teacher tries their best to help, they don’t have the tools, they don’t have enough knowledge on the issue, they don’t have the time and indeed, some just don’t have the patience.

“Chiedza’s marks will not be confirmed until August but I see no reason why she will not have achieved an excellent grade.”

Despite my negative experience with dyslexia at school, I am pleased to say that we have come full circle. Where not knowing that I had dyslexia once made me feel less than, knowing it, has made me feel kind of invincible. Now when the inferiority complex is triggered I tell myself: “if you can get through school having not had the adequate support, you can do anything!”

And truly, I can. If I, a girl who could never spell, reads like a tortoise and stays grammatically incorrect, can start a blog and build a wonderful community of tea drinkers – shout out to you guys! – using the very same quirks that once hindered me, I can do anything.

I’m finally channelling my inner Einstein and I must admit, it feels really nice – though some people believe that William Shakespeare was also dyslexic so… maybe it’s my inner Shakespeare 🤔.

Either way, watch this space because we’re just getting started…

Side Bar – the amount of times I’ve misspelt ‘dyslexic’ while writing this. Smh, Rudolf really could’ve chosen an easier word 🙄 – Exit Side Bar *Sips Tea*

1 thought on “You’re not slow and you’re not stupid, you’re just dyslexic: Overcoming my inferiority complex”

  1. Hi Chiedza, I thoroughly enjoyed sipping through this “my” tea. Surprisingly at my age, over 50, don’t laugh, I swear I think I may have had some of that concoction called dyslexia. When I used to get teased and laughed at my poor reading abilities, I would just throw at these people, my Maths results. They would shut up immediately and that kept my confidence souring. Thanks for the diagnosis. Keep up the brilliant blog!!! Uncle Ben

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