There was never any question that we would send our daughter to public school. We were living in a small, diverse urban school district, and we hoped that our daughter would get accepted into one of the magnet schools of our choice. She didn’t. We had a choice. So, we enrolled her in a private Montessori school with the intent of moving back into the public school system the following year once the lottery re-opened. We never had the chance.
Once our daughter was diagnosed with a learning disability, she was ineligible for the lottery. Matter of fact, we were told that two elementary schools offered reading services, and she would be enrolled in whichever one had an opening. We decided that staying in the private Montessori school was the best decision. It wasn’t easy, but we had that choice.
After several years, our daughter was not making adequate progress in the public school system. A private school for language differences was recommended. I wondered if we could use our 529 college savings plan to pay. We couldn’t. The funds were only eligible for higher education. If we didn’t do something now, higher education was moot.
For families like ours, using our 529 education savings to pay for a specialized school is a solution. It is an imperfect solution as it leaves out the many people who are unable to put aside money in a 529 to save for their kid’s college education. For the general population, there is concern that it creates a broader class gap in education, and this is valid. So, it is with mixed emotions that I embrace this piece of the Republican tax overhaul. I see it as a short-term solution for families like ours who have documented proof that the public school is not working for them, and private, specialized schools are necessities. For everyone else, I’m not sure. #Dyslexia
It’s dyslexia awareness month. As such, I would be remiss in continuing our story without mentioning adoption, particularly international adoption. What about adoption and dyslexia, or learning differences for that matter? Where is the research, and why isn’t adoption cited more frequently as a subgroup within the broader dyslexia community? Maybe it would over-complicate a very challenging educational space, or possibly most people have no idea that such a high percentage of adopted children, especially those adopted internationally, are dyslexic. If only we knew.
Statistical and Empirical Evidence of High Rates of Dyslexia in Adopted Children
The first person who told us that our daughter would have a learning difference was our adoption attorney. Go figure. While preparing some adoption paperwork, she indicated that our daughter would not get through college in four years—if she went at all. I was insulted. How dare she stereotype our perfect child! Because she had worked with internationally-adopted children her entire career and since our daughter came to us at around the age of two, the attorney predicted our daughter would have some type of learning difference. We knew we would prove the attorney wrong, but sadly, we didn’t.
What I learned is that in 2014 alone 110,373 kids were adopted through foster care, and domestic and international adoption (Jones and Placek, 2017). Kids who are adopted are twice as likely as non-adopted kids to have learning and attention issues, and one in five has a learning disability (Morin, n.d). So, of the 110,373 kids adopted in 2014, 22,075 of them could have learning differences, such as dyslexia.
Adoption in the Dyslexia Space
With such a high percentage of adopted children eventually diagnosed with learning differences, how much of the published or ongoing research or initiatives take their many differences into consideration? Several years ago, I followed a study on language disruption, and the havoc it wreaks on children when a first language is suddenly halted, and they are only exposed to the new language (Gindis, 2004). I have also followed work that speech-language pathologists conduct on this very same issue. Yet, despite the growing awareness among professionals, we rarely hear how adoption is a factor in reading differences when we are meeting with professionals to talk about interventions for our daughter. Maybe the feeling is that at this point, it’s just too late; dyslexia presents as dyslexia, and the underlying reason is a moot point. I’m not sure I buy that, though.
Like so many areas, adoption and dyslexia are presented in different silos.
With dyslexia and adoption rarely mentioned together in mainstream studies, several questions come to mind. For example, are the brains of non-adopted kids with dyslexia and adopted kids with dyslexia organized similarly (Wolf, 2017)? Are adopted kids more likely to have dyslexia based on missed milestones and other related issues rather than inheriting the difference through genetics? It seems obvious, but experts should validate that vital point. It is hard to believe that we are the only ones attempting to connect the dots. So, why does all of this matter, especially to adoptive families? Not being a speech pathologist, reading specialist or even an adoption specialist, I offer three thoughts from the perspective of a parent with a child from Guatemala, and why it matters:
1. If we know that sudden language loss contributes to learning issues, a decision to continue the first language could be part of the post-adoption plan.
2. International adoption agencies could prepare parents better.
3. Funding sources to maintain the first language could be sought.
Maybe we just need a closer alliance or a bridge between the adoption and the dyslexia communities. Please let me know your thoughts or comments on this post. I would also welcome any information about ongoing or published research on this topic.
Progress, progress, progress. The overall impression from the tutor and some of the administrators is that our daughter progressed at Camp Dunnabeck. Mostly we hear that she is making incredible progress, but we simply need to hear the word “progress” to be relieved. It has been years since the word progress has been used relative to reading skills without the terms gradually or inconsistently preceding it. Progress. She is improving. She can get better. She can strive. We can hope. She is not just artistic, creative and athletic. She is smart-period. We never had doubt.
It’s time to go home. It’s time to figure out school for next year. It’s been six weeks of commuting and staying in rental properties in remote areas with mixed WiFi and cell service. For these past few days, we are in a studio, basement apartment two miles from the camp. It is Hudson River School of American Landscape painters breathtaking, but so secluded. I’ve had a fever each night along with aches and pains in my neck and shoulders. I’m ready to go home. I miss Tiana. I miss our cats. School starts in less than a month, and we haven’t figured out what we are doing. It’s time to make a decision. A decision doesn’t mean we can’t change paths, but we need to make a decision.
Back to our Montessori School. Isabella loves her school. We are fortunate in that with all of her learning challenges relative to reading; her confidence is still intact. At her darkest, she shouts out that she is dumb, but most of the time she is OK. When I ask her where she wants to go to school this fall she says she wants to go back to her current Montessori school. It is familiar, and she feels safe there. They make great efforts to teach her, but it is not a school for language differences, nor do they have multi-sensory reading services delivered with fidelity. It is just a good place with lots of committed teachers that do their best to encourage each child’s strengths. Our daughter needs more than that. She needs specialized services so that she can grow up to be independent and have the necessary life skills to follow her dreams.
Multi-sensory services with fidelity should be offered in every school. Most schools are not set up to deliver those services, so the solutions and costs fall to the parents to figure out, or not.
Solutions and advocacy. I have spent my career creating content for different learners. Some of my time has been devoted to creating content for non-traditional students, but most of my time has been focused on traditional or what some call neuro-typical learners. Creating so-called traditional content is not where I belong right now. I’m tired of just talking and listening. I need to be part of a plan or the action. It’s cheesy, but being up here surrounded by all this natural beauty has given me the strength and courage to share our story.
Teach My Kid to Read. I hope to grow Teach My Kid to Read into an organization. While that is being figured out I will continue to share our story and stories of other families. Continue to follow us to see how services work out this fall, and to learn about other topics related to reading and learning differences. If you would like to get involved with Teach My Kid to Read contact me at: email@example.com