When they said I was “Xylesdic”, I thought it was over
By Greg Evans
Ever since I was young, I struggled in school, whether reading, penmanship, math…everything. Even the teachers recognized something wasn’t quite right but it was the early 1980s. Things were different then. Some of the teachers contacted my mother, “The poor boy is a bit dull. He can barely read and is nearly incapable of doing math.”
In my elementary school, they setup a sort of tutoring program that me, and a few of the other disinterested future journalists were put into. The gym teacher was assigned to teach it. I doubt he was thrilled about having to tutor the riffraff, but he was perfect for the stint. He was a kind and patient man.
I never knew what exactly they told my mother but I remember one day driving over to the neighboring town, where I met with my first shrink. I was maybe 11. I remember being asked a battery of questions. I assumed they were trying to figure out if I was an alien, like ET. After a while, I literally stood up, and walked out onto the street. Enough being prodded. My mother took me home and that was the end of that. It would be nearly a decade later before I had to poke that animal again.
It wasn’t until I reached NYU, and was called into the Dean’s office one day. “I have reviewed your marks and find them to be rather unique.” That’s putting gently.
“It doesn’t make sense. Your English professor tells me your writing is good, has potential. They say it’s different, it is original and shows promise, however, all your other marks are some of the worst in the class. We recommend you get tested for a learning disability.” And so I did. My mother took me out to Oyster Bay Long Island where a lady conducted a slew of tests and interviewed me like I was trying to join the FBI.
Her conclusion nearly sent me into a panic. “He has xlyesdia and DDAH.”
“What the hell?” I murmured under my breath. “How much time do I have left?” I said.
She laughed. I didn’t quite see it as a laughing matter.
“I’m dying aren’t I?” I said.
“I couldn’t tell you, I’m not a medical doctor. What I can tell you is that you have a learning disability. It’s called dyslexia and you also suffer from attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, ADHD. You can take medicine and it will help.”
“I don’t like medication,” I said. She looked at me like I said, “I don’t eat beef.”
“Listen, what you have is a part of you. If you don’t take medication you can control it through controlling yourself and your mind. It will be a lot of hard work. But, you also are dyslexic and with that on top of ADHD, you will have to work three times as hard as someone with one of the other afflictions and twelve times as hard as a regular peer. Do you understand?”
“No.”
I heard sighs around the room.
Despite my lack of interest in taking any medicine, I was prescribed numerous pills, all of which I flushed down the toilet.
What I came to terms with, over the years, was that people that have what I have, understand that nothing comes easy, not work, not remembering grocery store items, getting directions correct, and reaching any appointment on time, etc.
Thus, recognizing this deficiency, and it can be a hindrance, I trained myself to write things down, leave earlier for appointments knowing that I will get lost not once, but twice trying to locate the address; and never being disappointed with rejection in any facet of my life. So, I became more or less an optimist, and this mindset has taken me on quite a ride over the years. I always believed I could do anything. And the less I talked about my plans and goals, the more they seemed to come true. Not all of them; but many of the ones that mattered.
I found growing up dyslexic with ADHD was like living in the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit, half in the real world and half in a cartoon. I saw the world through a different lens and the trauma from having to deal with it in school, as a child, helped me to be become a humorist and monthly newspaper columnist with The Plain Dealer / www.cleveland.com, and before that, the Mooresville Tribune, and Statesville Record & Landmark; part-time in the real world, and part-time in a fantasy world. It was good time. I enjoyed every minute of writing all those columns.
So many people take medication for this thing or the next, to take their mind’s away from the monotone the realities of life, or themselves.
Us, dyslexic, ADHD people, we are practically force fed drugs since birth, however, we don’t need them. The world isn’t bland and boring for us. The moral of the story is that if you have a child, or you are a teacher with a student that seems learning disabled or they are “suffering” from some affliction like xylesdia, or DDAH, don’t take them before Judge Corwin to be burned at the stake like Bridget Bishop. You just have to work with them, not try to drown them when nobody is looking. I assure you, they are not as bored as you are. Guaranteed they will see the world differently than you, and grow up to live a pretty interesting life.