I often found myself questioning my parenting abilities. It’s a common instinct to assume responsibility, especially when your child exhibits exceptional talents. My son, Leo, displayed remarkable reading skills, yet I was troubled by his struggle with writing. Despite being able to read at a level two grades above his peers, I was dismayed to discover that at the age of 7, he could not recognize his lowercase letters. His writing appeared awkward and cramped, and his spelling was nearly impossible to decipher. Words like “bake” turned into “bke” and “love” became “lvoe.” He couldn’t even spell his own last name.
Determined to help him, we dedicated ourselves to improving his writing skills. When it came to homeschooling, Leo only expressed dissatisfaction with writing assignments. Each day, he would sit at his desk, lined paper before him, and struggle to compose three simple sentences about familiar topics. We would discuss our subjects in advance, brainstorming ideas together, but it seemed to take an eternity. Frustratingly, his phonetic understanding appeared to vanish the moment he picked up a pen. Just yesterday, “sushi rolls” was scribbled as “susi rlas,” despite his ability to read complex phrases like “Department of Education.”
Eventually, as I reviewed his work—characterized by inconsistent spacing, inventive spelling, and a mix of uppercase and lowercase letters—I began to wonder if something more significant was at play. My research led me to consider dysgraphia, a condition affecting writing, and possibly dyslexia. A formal diagnosis could elucidate the gap between Leo’s reading and writing capabilities and provide us with effective strategies to assist him.
However, a diagnosis would also categorize my gifted son as having a learning disability (LD). Leo is what professionals refer to as “twice-exceptional,” a term used for gifted children who also face learning challenges. I had already experienced a wave of concern when we realized he inherited the same ADHD traits that both my partner and I struggle with. Having witnessed my own difficulties with attention, social interactions, and hyperfocus, I understood the complexity of our situation. My partner also grapples with a learning disability known as dyscalculia, which affects his mathematical abilities—he often relies on fingers to count and struggles with time estimates.
Naturally, I worried about the implications of this diagnosis on Leo’s future. While I could implement strategies to improve his writing, it pained me to think he might never find joy in it. The act of expressing thoughts on paper could become a source of frustration rather than fulfillment. Despite all the support we might provide, I feared he would continue to face challenges in this area—no parent wishes to see their child struggle.
We’ve already begun discussing his unique situation with him. Leo attends a homeschool co-op, and he is aware of how effortlessly his peers can write. He can see and compare their handwriting and their ease in generating written content. We attempt to explain that his brain functions differently—a concept he is beginning to grasp due to his ADHD. I tell him that this difference means writing is more challenging for him than for others.
“Maybe I just need to try harder, Mom,” he sometimes suggests, and it breaks my heart because simply trying harder won’t solve the issue.
“You can’t try harder,” I tell him. “You need to try differently. That’s why we’re pursuing an evaluation; it will help us discover strategies that work better for you.”
He responds with a sigh, expressing anxiety about the upcoming evaluation. Already, he has started compensating by asking me to spell every single word for him, yet he still produces misspellings like “rars” for “rolls.” Words he believes he knows often come out incorrectly, such as “lvoe” for “love” and “fa” for “the.” Now that I’m aware of these difficulties, I cannot ignore them. Each paper he toils over brings me sadness, and my frustration grows as I remain uncertain about how best to assist him. Of course, his frustration far exceeds mine.
Fortunately, his peers have yet to notice his writing challenges, and if they have, they’ve remained silent. The homeschooling community tends to foster an understanding of learning at one’s own pace, a sentiment for which I am truly thankful.
So we find ourselves in a state of anxious anticipation for a diagnosis. We desperately need that label. It would empower Leo to say, “I have dysgraphia” if someone comments on his writing or if another child makes a remark about his handwriting. This label would grant us access to tools and resources to support him. It would guide me in teaching him to appreciate writing, even if his handwriting remains imperfect.
We are determined to navigate this journey together. We will learn how to support him, and he will discover ways to adapt. He possesses resilience, and although the path ahead may not be easy, we are committed to facing it together.
For those exploring similar journeys, I recommend checking out resources like IVF Babble for support related to pregnancy and home insemination, and learn more about enhancing fertility with insights from Fertility Booster for Men. If you’re interested in home insemination options, you can find valuable information about the BabyMaker at Home Insemination Kit.
In summary, navigating the complexities of being a twice-exceptional child is a challenging yet rewarding experience. Understanding and addressing Leo’s unique needs can foster a supportive environment that encourages his growth and resilience.
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