Parenting
When I first recognized that my son, Leo, was both exceptionally gifted and faced learning challenges, a wave of self-blame washed over me. It’s a common reaction, isn’t it? You think, “If he’s reading at a higher level, then I must not have done enough to support his handwriting skills.” The realization struck me hard: my 7-year-old couldn’t recognize his lowercase letters. His writing was messy and his spelling seemed like a mystery. For instance, “Kaoak” was meant to be “cook,” and “lvoe” was his attempt at “love.” He couldn’t even spell his own last name correctly.
Determined to make progress, we dedicated time to improve his writing. Out of everything we tackled in our homeschooling, Leo consistently expressed frustration with writing tasks. He would sit at the table, lined paper in front of him, struggling to craft three simple sentences. I tried to connect the writing exercises to our other subjects, like social studies or reading, and we would brainstorm ideas together. Yet, despite our efforts, it felt like an uphill battle. His phonics skills seemed to vanish as soon as he picked up a pen. Just the other day, “avocado maki rolls” turned into “moce rars” — from a child who could read “the department of education” like it was second nature.
Eventually, I began to wonder if there was more at play. As I researched, I stumbled upon the terms dysgraphia and possibly dyslexia. A diagnosis could clarify the gap between Leo’s reading and writing abilities and provide us with strategies to assist him. However, it also meant labeling my gifted son as learning disabled (LD).
Leo falls into the category of “twice-exceptional” — a gifted child who also navigates a learning difference. I had already experienced the emotional rollercoaster of discovering he shared the same ADHD traits that my partner and I have. I understood the challenges he might face: difficulties with attention, social interactions, hyperfocus, and indecision. I also witnessed my partner’s struggle with dyscalculia, which is similar to dyslexia but involves math. He still sometimes counts on his fingers and finds it tough to estimate time or distance accurately. Thankfully, technology helps us with budgeting.
I often find myself worrying about what this diagnosis could mean for Leo’s future. While I can implement strategies to enhance his writing skills, it pains me to think he may never find joy in it. The act of translating thoughts into words might feel more like a chore than a pleasure. Despite all the assistance and techniques, he might still encounter difficulties. No parent wants to see their child struggle.
We’ve already had conversations about his differences. He attends a homeschool co-op and is aware of how well his peers write. He notices their neat handwriting and the ease with which they produce text. We’ve talked about how his brain operates differently, a concept he’s beginning to understand through his experience with ADHD. I explain that this unique way of thinking makes writing more challenging for him than it is for others.
“Maybe I just need to try harder, Mama,” he occasionally suggests. Hearing this breaks my heart because simply trying harder isn’t the solution. “You can’t just try harder,” I respond gently. “You need to try differently. That’s why we’re pursuing an evaluation — to find out how to help you approach this in a new way.” He huffs in response, anxious about the upcoming evaluation. Already, he has started to adapt by asking me to spell every single word for him, yet he still comes up with “rars” for “rolls.” The words he thinks he knows often come out misspelled, like “lvoe” for “love” and “fa” for “the.” Now that I’ve become aware of these issues, it’s difficult to ignore them, and it saddens me to see the effort he puts into his writing. I feel frustrated because I’m unsure how to support him effectively, and I can’t imagine the level of frustration he experiences.
Fortunately, the other kids in our co-op haven’t yet noticed his writing difficulties. If they have, they haven’t mentioned it. I’m grateful for the homeschooling community’s understanding and acceptance of learning at one’s own pace.
So, we find ourselves waiting — not so patiently — for a diagnosis. We desperately need this label. It will empower Leo to declare, “I have dysgraphia,” if anyone comments on his handwriting or if a peer makes a joke. A diagnosis will arm us with tools and resources to assist him. It will guide me in teaching him to appreciate writing, even if his handwriting isn’t perfect.
Together, we will navigate this journey. We will learn how to support him, and he will discover ways to adapt. He is resilient. It may not be easy, but we will tackle it head-on.
For more insights on parenting challenges and support for your unique family journey, check out this blog post on navigating the complexities of parenting. Also, if you’re considering home insemination, you can find a reputable supplier of at-home insemination kits through this link.
Summary:
This article explores the challenges faced by parents of twice-exceptional children—those who are both gifted and have learning disabilities. The author shares her personal experience with her son, Leo, as they navigate his struggles with writing and learning differences, highlighting the emotional journey of seeking a diagnosis and the hope for future support and strategies.