How to Let Go of Your Anxiety About Dyslexia

She was the picture perfect second grade teacher. Her dress was the color of butter cream frosting on a birthday cupcake. Heck, her entire dress looked like a cupcake as it included taffeta and gauze.

I dropped my son off on his first day of second grade and handed his teacher Mrs. Connors all the supplies that were on the school list. She smiled at me and my son ran into the classroom. I felt so happy he was in good hands.

At the end of September, spelling test began in his classroom. Since my son had a diagnosis of dyslexia and the school was aware of his diagnosis, I thought there would be accommodations for him.

His form of dyslexia wasn’t reading backwards. Instead, he had difficulty with reading fluency, letter/vowel sounds, and spelling was his kryptonite.

I reached out to Mrs. Connors to discuss how we could help him through the weekly spelling tests. She wanted to see how he did without giving him accommodations, and then work from there.  

I reluctantly agreed because I didn’t want to hold him back in any way. His diagnosis was new, and he was getting tutoring so I thought her “wait and see” method would work. 

So, the studying began. We made flashcards on Monday when we received the new list of twenty words. The first few weeks weren’t that bad.

He was getting 70% of the words spelled correctly, but these were easy one to three letter words. We spent 30-60 minutes a day studying the spelling flash cards on top of all his other homework. 

The year went on and the flash cards kept going. We carried those cards everywhere we went. It became my mission in life to help him pass his spelling tests. Our mantra became C’s get degrees.

When I look back at that time I cringe at my stress and worry about twenty spelling words. I started to parent from a place of anxiety, and it was not pretty. 

By February, the spelling words had gotten so hard that Mrs. Connors agreed to drop the number of words to fifteen. Fifteen words, twenty words, it didn’t matter, he just kept failing the tests.

It was heartbreaking to watch his soul crumble. In March, we had a meeting so we could discuss the situation. 

We reviewed his progress and regression over the year. I explained what we were doing to help him learn his spelling words.

I reviewed our weekly ritual of making flashcards, a Quizlet, and that we practiced every day for at least 30 minutes. We also had him write the words out five times every single day, and he received private tutoring twice a week. He was still failing each test. Mrs. Connors listened to me as I was getting teary-eyed. 

I thought she was listening. But this is when I realized some people can’t hear what you are saying. You know they are listening; they nod their heads, they say little things like- “yes,” “I see”, “go on”. But you don’t feel heard or understood by the end of the conversation. 

After my explanation and lots of tears, she said “He’s such a good boy, let’s just keep going with the tests and see what he can do.” I looked at her and she also had tears in her eyes.

I recognized then it was too much for her to admit defeat. She didn’t want to give up on my son because she believed he could do it. 

At first, I was mad at her, but then I realized she was incapable of helping him in the way that I thought he needed. So, I did the next best thing. I helped him. 

I got rid of the weekly spelling drills. We made flashcards on Monday of only five words and completed the homework. Other than that, I stopped all spelling studying.  

He continued to fail every single spelling test for the rest of the year. Mrs. Connors continued to test him without accommodations

His tests came home and because he failed them, I had to sign each and every one of them. I'm not going to lie, those were tough signatures to write.

Mrs. Connors continued to be confused as to why he kept failing. In her confusion, I became more clear and level headed. 

A switch went off in me and I started to parent differently. I chose to help my son see spelling tests were not a reflection of his true abilities. We had long talks about how spelling will probably always be a problem for him, but when he’s older he can just use a phone to help him spell.

I explained his form of dyslexia to him so he could understand how his brain worked. I told him he didn’t have to pass his spelling tests, and it didn’t matter. I told him not to worry about it and just do the best he could. I told him Mrs. Connors isn’t mad at him, and he would pass second grade no matter how many spelling tests he failed. 

I let my kid play outside instead of practicing spelling.  

I forgave Mrs. Connors for not being able to understand what my son needed and no longer expected her to understand his situation. I became an advocate for him because that was the only thing I could control. 

Some people in life will never understand our personal situations, but they can still love you. That is the gift Mrs. Connors gave me.

She loved my son even though she didn’t understand his dyslexia. She was the one scratching her head every week when she graded his spelling tests.

She was incapable of understanding his reading problem and it wasn’t out of malice. It was a mixture of love with a heavy dose of denial.  

Second grade drugged on, and June rolled around. We went on vacation to see my aunt in Toronto and visited Niagara Falls.

When we were driving around the Falls, my son spontaneously started reading street signs out loud. Sometimes he got the words right and sometimes not. I began to laugh thinking back to the dreaded spelling test year. 

In that moment, my perspective on those tests shifted. He didn’t pass the tests, but perhaps that wasn’t the point.

The true test was that he wasn’t afraid to keep trying. Those tests taught him grit and my attitude to allow him to fail without consequences gave him the confidence to keep going. 

Also, constantly being surrounded by words in all different ways, gave him something. Maybe he couldn’t spell the words, but his reading got better ?  

Maybe that was Mrs. Connor’s plan all along? 

Maybe in the middle of all those failed spelling tests, my son had learned how to read? 

As he kept trying to read the street signs, it was a good personal moment for me. I let go of the frantic anxious thoughts about his dyslexia diagnosis.

I realized for the first time that he really was going to be ok. Tests are a gauge in a rigged system for people who learn differently. Tests are never going to be a true reflection of his abilities, and it was best to learn that early on in his school career. 

If more accommodations were made could he have passed the tests? Maybe, but second grade was a year of reality and truths for both me and my son. 

I realize now Failing Was The Lesson. 

My son learned he could excel in other subjects and still pass his grade. He became a better reader just by practicing spelling.

He learned test scores don’t define him as a person. He learned perseverance and started to gain more confidence in reading what he could. He learned his family loved him no matter what grade he came home with.  

So, I say thank you to Mrs. Connors. Thank you for the lesson to look beyond the spelling tests and into the eyes of my son. To see him as the bright, inquisitive, witty, and kind boy who happens to be really bad at spelling.

Thank you for teaching me not to worry about the little things on the parenting journey. 

Big Hugs and Love,

Americ