Unblocking the dyslexic teen-age reader: Paul’s Gift

Abstract

The encounter with Paul occurred back in my own eighth-grade year, in public school in Poughkeepsie, New York. Paul changed my life. Without him, this would not have been written; indeed, my life's work with young people might never have begun. Back in those days, a superb New York state public school system, characterized by trained teachers and a state-wide plan of Regents examina tions, assured reading competence to the average boy and girl. I lived on the edge of the tough section of town, the factory district, and School Number 2 which I attended was in an area populated by first-generation Italian, Irish, and Polish workers. Each morning at seven o'clock a factory whistle at the DeLaval Separator plant beside the Hudson River blew in the early darkness, and factory parents trudged off to work, even as their children got ready for school. For most of these students, the American dream of a sound public education was realized as surely as their parents' dream of an American land of ease and plenty was not. Many of those boys and girls in our town, with whom I went to public school, are now competent tradespeople; one or two are physicians or lawyers; several are nurses or secretaries. This same public school system served me well. Without the slightest interest in school on my part, it pounded home the Three R's so effectively that my homework was done in a trice, and I could turn to the machines I loved. My mother knew of my mechanical interests, but never gave me electric trains or little steam engines as toys; instead, she gave me the tools to make them. And this is how a bent, a skill, an inclination, was established which can still arouse my enthusiasm.