Without turning this into a confessional, when I look back on my schooling here are a few things I know:
- Math was far my strong suit. I probably needed tutoring, particularly as I had to suffer through geometry, algebra and calculus. So, did that mean I had “dyscalculia” (i.e., a math disability)?”
- My penmanship was awful. My grandmother, a very old school second grade teacher, gave me penmanship lessons. (They obviously didn’t take, as evidenced by my persistent scrawl.) So, along with my “dyscalculia,” did I also have “dysgraphia?”
- My reading skills were reasonably strong, so I couldn’t own dyslexia (phew!).
- I don’t think I was emotionally dysregulated, but who knows. My parents are no longer around to tell that side of the story.
- While I think I got along with most of the kids, I was probably “dysmissed” by some along the way. (Ok, I am taking poetic license here with a made up word.)
Aa long time ago in a galaxy far away, there were no “dys’s.” They were not part of our parlance.
Now the “dys’s” are front and center, occupying a great deal of parental speculation and concern, as in, “Do you think my child has dyscalciulia? (or whatever).
Are we better off now or the way it used to be? I think arguments could be made on both sides.
Having assessed thousand of kids at this point, I often find it difficult to confidently determine where a weakness leaves off and a “dys” begins. (e.g., It may be objective that the child is not reading well based on normative tests, but is it dyslexia?)
A weakness does not necessarily make it a disability. Weaknesses are always part of a spectrum ranging from mild to more significant (severe).
Welcome to my murky world.