Editor's Comment:
Sam was my second interview subject. He is 22, in college, and still in the grips of despair in regard to his disability. His experience:
While this journal has primarily a research-oriented focus, the staff has a policy to occasionally publish personal accounts about or by individuals with learning disabilities. One of the purposes for publishing these accounts is to gently remind readers, researchers, and our staff that the special population discussed within these pages often encounters problems that are not covered in most research-oriented articles.— JLW
I was uncoordinated in sports and kids picked on me and called me dummy because I didn't pick up on things quickly. I always had to cover-up, fake it, lie, and make excuses when I didn't understand. Teachers and friends told me I'd never amount to anything, and the worst humiliation I faced was knowing I'd never be better than mediocre or average. If I knew then what I know now, I would have killed myself and not gone through with it. It was so bad to not be like everyone else and to sometimes not get something, ever. I learned that people generally suck and that everything is a giant pain. I'd tell my best teacher, "Thank you for taking the time to get me where I am. I wouldn't be in college right now. . . . " I'd tell my worst teacher to get another job. I'd tell other learning disabled kids to learn how to be good fighters and to hang in there; it only gets worse.
Teachers Do Make a Difference Joyce K. Brobeck
A
s a teacher of middle school adolescents with learning disabilities (LD), I often find myself wondering if all of my struggles are worth it. For 3 years I have worked with students who can barely read, who often, by the time I meet them, don't even want to read. Inevitably, they will be reading by the time I send them to high school, but many still won't like it or do it very well. Their selfimages are low in spite of the validation and encouragement I give them. The social choices they make are often selfdestructive. When they stop to visit me sometimes, on their way home from high school, I know I must have done something right, but there are still days and weeks when I am especially tired and stressed with the demands of the job and just throw up my hands and say, "What difference does everything I do make, anyway?" But I have obtained strong evidence that the difference I make is that one spark that illuminates for students the idea that they are OK, that they can make it in life and their efforts do pay off. A journey into the thoughts and feelings of successful adults with learning disabilities, through an interview process, has taught me that, in spite of frustration and exhaustion, I must not give up, not if I really want to make a difference in the lives of these children. I first interviewed John, a 32-year-old student with LD who finished college and worked successfully in the field of social work for more than 8 years. A summary of his experience:
ing a game where others knew the rules and I didn't. I was confused and constantly watched to see if I could figure it out. My teachers referred to me as dull, and my parents were accepting of my low academic ability, which inadvertently reinforced my perception of low intelligence and feeling of inadequacy and incompetence. I experienced ongoing embarrassment at my inability to respond to questions in class and even more humiliation when I had to call out my substandard scores. I read marginally until the seventh grade, writing was practically illegible until college, and even if I understood the procedures in math, I would frequently transpose the numbers or copy the problem incorrectly, so would get no credit for my efforts. I acted out because it was the one thing that drew attention away from my problems. In the fifth grade my teacher connected my acting out behaviors to other problems; I was tested, "found out I was not dull," and began to achieve. Other teachers continued to reinforce my acting out behavior. I was smart enough to see things they couldn't, and the one thing I did well was make them look stupid. In seventh grade a teacher hit me on the side of the head when I compared the way he ran his classroom to the fascist government about which he was teaching. I was proud of myself for recognizing fascism when I saw it. He was livid. If more teachers had been aware of my learning disabilities and behaviors, things could have been so much better. They could have walked through the math problems with me, and by teaching me that my problems could be overcome I could have known I was valuable and capable. My best teachers were patient and didn't humiliate me. They gave me lots of one-onone time. I'd like to see someone develop an assessment of teacher motivation and commitment to ensure expenditure of the energy I wanted to be able to perform with my peers kids need. Teachers need to realize that everyand be adept. I tried hard, but it was like play- thing they do "affects my life!"
Hearing it the way it is can be so painful. I had always hoped it was not really that bad for my students, that they were just experiencing normal adolescence. The reality is that being different is the worst thing that can happen to an adolescent. They do not understand why they are having problems and it takes a lot to convince them they are not freaks. They need to understand that much of what they experience is also experienced by their non-learning-disabled peers. A little compassion and understanding from others can go a long way in promoting a positive sense of worth. Extra time and energy can provide the fortitude these students need later to overcome their fear of failure. Everything a teacher does has some effect, and it is important to remember that we do make a difference.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Joyce K. Brobeck is a resource room teacher for middle school children and a master's degree candidate in the Guidance and Counseling Program at the University of Montana in Missoula. She completed her undergraduate work at Mansfield State University in Mansfield, Pennsylvania. Her primary interests are in teaching and counseling children and families with special needs. Address: Joyce Brobeck, School District #/, 215 S. 6th West, Missoula, MT 59801.
Volume 23, Number 1, January 1990
11 Downloaded from ldx.sagepub.com at MCMASTER UNIV LIBRARY on June 28, 2015
Sam was my second interview subject. He is 22, in college, and still in the grips of despair in regard to his disability. His experience:
While this journal has primarily a research-oriented focus, the staff has a policy to occasionally publish personal accounts about or by individuals with learning disabilities. One of the purposes for publishing these accounts is to gently remind readers, researchers, and our staff that the special population discussed within these pages often encounters problems that are not covered in most research-oriented articles.— JLW
I was uncoordinated in sports and kids picked on me and called me dummy because I didn't pick up on things quickly. I always had to cover-up, fake it, lie, and make excuses when I didn't understand. Teachers and friends told me I'd never amount to anything, and the worst humiliation I faced was knowing I'd never be better than mediocre or average. If I knew then what I know now, I would have killed myself and not gone through with it. It was so bad to not be like everyone else and to sometimes not get something, ever. I learned that people generally suck and that everything is a giant pain. I'd tell my best teacher, "Thank you for taking the time to get me where I am. I wouldn't be in college right now. . . . " I'd tell my worst teacher to get another job. I'd tell other learning disabled kids to learn how to be good fighters and to hang in there; it only gets worse.
Teachers Do Make a Difference Joyce K. Brobeck
A
s a teacher of middle school adolescents with learning disabilities (LD), I often find myself wondering if all of my struggles are worth it. For 3 years I have worked with students who can barely read, who often, by the time I meet them, don't even want to read. Inevitably, they will be reading by the time I send them to high school, but many still won't like it or do it very well. Their selfimages are low in spite of the validation and encouragement I give them. The social choices they make are often selfdestructive. When they stop to visit me sometimes, on their way home from high school, I know I must have done something right, but there are still days and weeks when I am especially tired and stressed with the demands of the job and just throw up my hands and say, "What difference does everything I do make, anyway?" But I have obtained strong evidence that the difference I make is that one spark that illuminates for students the idea that they are OK, that they can make it in life and their efforts do pay off. A journey into the thoughts and feelings of successful adults with learning disabilities, through an interview process, has taught me that, in spite of frustration and exhaustion, I must not give up, not if I really want to make a difference in the lives of these children. I first interviewed John, a 32-year-old student with LD who finished college and worked successfully in the field of social work for more than 8 years. A summary of his experience:
ing a game where others knew the rules and I didn't. I was confused and constantly watched to see if I could figure it out. My teachers referred to me as dull, and my parents were accepting of my low academic ability, which inadvertently reinforced my perception of low intelligence and feeling of inadequacy and incompetence. I experienced ongoing embarrassment at my inability to respond to questions in class and even more humiliation when I had to call out my substandard scores. I read marginally until the seventh grade, writing was practically illegible until college, and even if I understood the procedures in math, I would frequently transpose the numbers or copy the problem incorrectly, so would get no credit for my efforts. I acted out because it was the one thing that drew attention away from my problems. In the fifth grade my teacher connected my acting out behaviors to other problems; I was tested, "found out I was not dull," and began to achieve. Other teachers continued to reinforce my acting out behavior. I was smart enough to see things they couldn't, and the one thing I did well was make them look stupid. In seventh grade a teacher hit me on the side of the head when I compared the way he ran his classroom to the fascist government about which he was teaching. I was proud of myself for recognizing fascism when I saw it. He was livid. If more teachers had been aware of my learning disabilities and behaviors, things could have been so much better. They could have walked through the math problems with me, and by teaching me that my problems could be overcome I could have known I was valuable and capable. My best teachers were patient and didn't humiliate me. They gave me lots of one-onone time. I'd like to see someone develop an assessment of teacher motivation and commitment to ensure expenditure of the energy I wanted to be able to perform with my peers kids need. Teachers need to realize that everyand be adept. I tried hard, but it was like play- thing they do "affects my life!"
Hearing it the way it is can be so painful. I had always hoped it was not really that bad for my students, that they were just experiencing normal adolescence. The reality is that being different is the worst thing that can happen to an adolescent. They do not understand why they are having problems and it takes a lot to convince them they are not freaks. They need to understand that much of what they experience is also experienced by their non-learning-disabled peers. A little compassion and understanding from others can go a long way in promoting a positive sense of worth. Extra time and energy can provide the fortitude these students need later to overcome their fear of failure. Everything a teacher does has some effect, and it is important to remember that we do make a difference.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Joyce K. Brobeck is a resource room teacher for middle school children and a master's degree candidate in the Guidance and Counseling Program at the University of Montana in Missoula. She completed her undergraduate work at Mansfield State University in Mansfield, Pennsylvania. Her primary interests are in teaching and counseling children and families with special needs. Address: Joyce Brobeck, School District #/, 215 S. 6th West, Missoula, MT 59801.
Volume 23, Number 1, January 1990
11 Downloaded from ldx.sagepub.com at MCMASTER UNIV LIBRARY on June 28, 2015
