Free Counting to D by Kate Scott Page B

paper from me and read: “A letter to dyslexic children, from Nelson Rockefeller.”
    For I was one of the “puzzle children” myself — a dyslexic, or “reverse reader” — and I still have a hard time reading today.
    But after coping with this problem for more than 60 years, I have a message of encouragement for children with learning disabilities — and their parents.
    Based on my own experience, my message to dyslexic children is this:
    Don’t accept anyone’s verdict that you are lazy, stupid, or retarded. You may very well be smarter than most other children your age.
    Just remember Woodrow Wilson, Albert Einstein, and Leonardo da Vinci also had a tough problem with their reading.
    You can learn to cope with your problems and turn your so-called disability into a positive advantage.
    Dyslexia forced me to develop powers of concentration that have been invaluable throughout my career in business, philanthropy, and public life. And I’ve done an enormous amount of reading and public speaking, especially in political campaigns for Governor of New York and President of the United States…
    I know what a dyslexic child goes through — the frustration of not being able to do what other children do easily, the humiliation of being thought not too bright when such is not the case at all.
    My personal discoveries as to what is required to cope with dyslexia could be summarized in these admonitions to the individual dyslexic:
Accept the fact that you have a problem — don’t just try to hide it.
Refuse to feel sorry for yourself.
Realize that you don’t have an excuse — you have a challenge.
Face the challenge.
Work harder and learn mental discipline — the capacity for total concentration — and
Never quit.
    Nelson Rockefeller hadn’t quit, and he wound up vice president of the United States of America. I looked at my mom. “What if I can’t do it? What if I never learn how to — ”
    “But, Sam,” she cut me off. “What if you can?”
    I wanted to believe her. I really did. “Do you think it’s possible?”
    You’re the smartest person I know.” She grabbed hold of my head and shook it playfully from side to side. “You are smart enough to solve this puzzle.”
    The school came up with a complicated plan to divide my time between special ed, remedial reading, accelerated math, the talented and gifted program, a personal aid, and a mainstream second-grade classroom. But the section of my day devoted to the classroom was microscopic, meaning I’d be alienated from my peers, so my mom decided to broker a deal that would save the school district a small fortune and give me a fighting chance at a normal childhood at the same time.
    She hired a private tutor to teach me how to read after school, and I got to stay in class full time. My friends quietly read me anything I didn’t understand, and my teachers pretended not to notice.
    Eli drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You didn’t listen to Rockefeller’s advice. You’re hiding the truth and denying you have a problem. Sam, you’ve quit.”
    I felt like he’d just slapped me in the face. He was right. I was fifteen, and I read like someone half my age. I’d given up on trying to fit in by hiding behind my abilities and looking down on people who succeeded by conventional means.
    “Maybe I did. I met with Martha, the tutor my mom hired, three times a week for four years. I slowly learned my ABCs. And at the end of sixth grade, I graduated from tutoring reading at a first-grade level. I can sound stuff out now, if I really work at it. But all those years I was in tutoring, I was also getting really good grades in school without ever reading anything. Maybe I did give up on myself. ’Cause continuing to not read feels so much easier.”
    Eli put the car back in gear. “You’re obviously ten thousand times smarter than me, so I guess you can do whatever you want, but I don’t think you should give up. You should finish cracking that