Draft in progress…

One day, at the busy end of a summer rush, my mom on the mustard-colored house phone (the landline with the endless cord) happened upon me reading items from her purse— receipts, credit cards, makeup, etc... I think I was looking for gum. Carefully retrieved and laid out on the kitchen table Revlon and Dentyne. Silently I mouthed the ingredients to a pack of cinnamon flavored gum. My mom instantly hung up the phone. The next thing I knew, I was being enrolled in a local parochial school. 

I began first grade at age 4. I was not a genius by any means. I also was not socially or emotionally ready. Turns out I was hyperlexic. Back then, in the early 80s, no one had bothered to test or evaluate me or even tried to understand my learning process. They simply decided and then would later decide to hold me back if I was not progressing. It turns out hyperlexia much like dyslexia is complex. Often with varied features.

There is some debate on an actual definition of hyperlexia, and there is a further breakdown into 3 different types. The APA Dictionary of Psychology Defines it as, “the development of extremely good reading skills at a very early age, well ahead of word comprehension or cognitive ability. Children with hyperlexia often start to recognize words without instruction and before any expressive language develops. Hyperlexia is usually found in the context of cognitive and language deficits or certain developmental disorders; some children with autism spectrum disorder, for example, may show hyperlexia. [first defined in 1967 by Norman E. Silberberg (1932–2007) and Margaret C. Silberberg]” 

I am not sure how my parents were able to skip me ahead without any assessments. Maybe it was the times, or they just knew someone. I remember sitting at reading circle with our daily reader “Pug.” There was a matching workbook that had perforated sheets. I would often look out the window and imagine Pug in rainbow colors bounding around and playing catch. I could not participate in other important social aspects of school. I could read but had a hard time making friends. I was described as shy and quiet, a dream to have in class.

I could read you a book. Any book really. Big words were fun to say. I didn’t know exactly what they meant, but I made good guesses. I spent a lot of time alone in front of the TV watching shows like Sesame Street and decodable phonics cartoons. Trying to understand the world around me. The reading part always came easily to me. It’s the other stuff like comprehension or tone that was lost. Grammar was a nightmare to puzzle out. If it followed a pattern, I would just copy it. I didn’t understand what an adverb was, but I knew where it was often placed in a sentence. I would have to re-read paragraphs many times over to fully comprehend a story. Context could sometimes be confusing. How I looked at the world was different. 

I would cry silently at night hoping I wouldn’t be held back and have to repeat the school year. I was determined to work harder. By 3rd grade, I had fallen behind. I was pulled out of classes and tutored ahead then put back in. Not once during this time, did someone explain to me why. It was mentioned that I just had a little difficulty in math. I wondered if anyone noticed that I erased my papers so much that they ripped.