Archive | March, 2026

Overcoming My Dyslexia

27 Mar

Recently someone I know opened her own consulting business for people who have dyslexia, posted a meme about dyslexia on her Facebook page.  I innocently shared it and announced that I had dyslexia.  My post went crazy with people telling me they didn’t know. And private comments from people. How could I have dyslexia and still get a master’s in journalism.  Another friend asked me at lunch how could I be dyslexic and be so good at Scrabble and Words with Friends.  Finally, a former student of mine said, you should write about this and let people know you can be successful even with a learning disability.  So here is my story.

I always had trouble pronouncing words.  As a child, I had such a bad speech impediment, that people really could not understand me.  My Mom, an elementary school teacher, who had to quit when she got pregnant with my brother, became my most important advocate.  In the days when there was not a lot of remedial help, my Mom arranged for me to start weekly visit with a speech pathologist when I was only 4 years old.  My weekly visits continued through eighth grade. Yes, I was pulled out of class once a week at school from kindergarten through eighth grade. That should indicate to you how bad my speech impediment was to understand. 

I did get better. But I had a rocky road ahead. And my Mom never allowed me to give up.

When I was 13, and still had some problem speaking, a friend of my grandmother’s told me that I spoke so funny that I should be on Laugh-IN.  My grandmother was furious. But it did not matter. It made my fear of speaking even more pronounced.   I refused to answer the phone.  I fought like crazy not to leave the house.  I was so embarrassed. I just got quieter, although I was already very shy and quiet.

At a family bar mitzvah, my Dad’s first cousin, David, who had a stutter, was sent to talk to me.  He told me how he learned to control the stutter and the tricks he used to be able to speak without fear.  He stressed that he graduated college and ran a company, and I could be whatever I wanted to be.  He was an advocate as well. At all family events he would check in with me.  I still use some of the tricks he taught me, which I will describe later.

But a war between Mom and me started.  It was tense.  My MOM insisted that I answer the phone and speak to people.  She could be standing next to the phone and would yell to me to answer.  Standing next to me while I spoke. I hated the phone. (Funny now because I am on the phone a lot!)

Our biggest fights were when the family was going out to dinner.  I hated going out to dinner. There were giant battles.  My sister remembers the battles, but I realized once during a family discussion that she had NO idea what they were about.  I knew my MOM was going to make me order my own food.  Doesn’t sound hard to most people. But for me reading the menu out loud to say what I wanted was terrifying.  And my parents would NOT order food for me.  I had to do it.

My nightmare was going to a restaurant and ordering food.  Another activity that seems so funny now, because I am at restaurants several times weekly with friends for lunch or with my husband for dinner. 

People who know me now would just laugh in disbelief.  I was so shy and fearful to speak.  But I had several really good friends in my elementary years,  Vicki and Dorothy and Lisa, who always understood what I was saying and are still my friends. Having them made my life bearable.  I wil say when I got to high school, I did much better. I was in all the Honors classes, so I had a small group of students who were always with me, and did not know about my fears.

What is my dyslexia?  I can read silently.  I understand everything that I am reading.  I have a extremely large reading vocabulary.  I write.  I speak on the phone, now. I speak in public.  I taught high school.  I trained Girl Scout leaders locally and NCJW presidents at a national convention.  I no longer flinch when I have to speak out loud.  My MOM’s voice is always in my head telling me I can do it.

But I don’t fit into the normal definition of dyslexia.  I have phonological dyslexia, also called dysphonetic dyslexia.  My dyslexia is only apparent when I have to read out loud or speak.  Officially it is a disorder connecting letters to their corresponding sounds.  I have a difficult time sounding out new words.  I recognize the shape of words.  I do not know how I did it.  But I see a word, I know the word. I am a great silent sight reader.  But at times I am unable to read the word out loud, that is the rub, so to speak.

Words I do not use often, I cannot say out loud.  I have a process.  I have alternate words always in my mind because sometimes I word I have used weekly, suddenly I cannot say them.  For example, multisyllabic words are more difficult for me than one or two syllables.  But even though right now I know how to say “multisyllabic,” tomorrow I might not.  So instead, I will say, I have a problem with words that have many syllables. This is because I have a problem with breaking down words with many syllables in order to pronounce them.

I do not think my MOM knew the name for my dyslexia, but she knew I had something.  So my MOM worked on Phonics with me. She had books and papers that I worked on and she worked with me to pronounce them properly.   Now they call it Phonemic Awareness Training.  My MOM just knew what to do.

Spelling and math were not my thing.  But I learned to spell well enough.  And when spell check became available, my life got so much easier.  Math, I was great in math. I innately understood theory.  However, numbers were a problem.  I still check my math very carefully to make sure I have them right.  Learning a new home address is difficult.  When we moved six years ago, it took me a year to get our new address number correct.  It has five numbers in it.  UGH!!

My Dad was dyslexic.  He dropped out of college in 1949.  There were no special accommodations for students then.  My dyslexia is genetic.  One of my cousins and my Dad had it. But mine is a bit different than my Dad’s type.  And to be honest, as I write this, I realize that my daughter probably has a mild case of it as well.  Math was always difficult for her. But she has done just fine. My son does have dyslexia and dysgraphia, When he was diagnosed, I quit my job to make sure I did for him, what my Mom did for me.

I graduated college Magna Cum Laude as an English major with a minor in political science.  Then I got my master’s degree in journalism from Mizzou. I taught high school journalism. I had good jobs.

Having dyslexia is not always easy.  But I NO longer feel embarrassed when I cannot say a word.  If you stand near me when I am reading out loud, you may hear, “I can’t say that today,” and I just change the word.

To any one with dyslexia, I say, “DON’T GIVE UP!!” Get the help you need and the accommodations that work for your issue.  Believe in yourself.  Or as my MOM would say, “Practice, practice, practice, eventually it will work.”

A Visit To A Grave Provides Closure

10 Mar

Zissel’s Grave

Recently when visiting my daughter in Israel, we went to the cemetery in Holon to search for my grandfather’s cousin’s grave. I have written about (Lieb) Zissel Feuer many times.  Because, although I met him when I was 19, I really did not know his story. I saw his several times over a two-year period when I was in college. But it wasn’t until I really began researching my family that I found out exactly the role he played in both the family and for the Jewish survivors who had lived in Mielec. (You can read about him in some of my other blogs.)

For me, he was an elderly relative that my grandmother asked me to visit. (He was about the age I am now.)  I went to see him whenever I was in Tel Aviv. I always went to the bakery across from the Shuk HaCarmel, and he was always there when I went. He would walk me back to his apartment where we would visit for a bit. I took my parents to meet with him. And I brought my grandmother to see him as well. He was the connection to those who perished.

The last time I was in Israel then, I was 22. Keeping in touch with an older relative was not high on my list at time in my life. And, although I kept in touch with others.  Zissel, I did not. But I always remembered him. And I had stories about my visits with him.

I did not go back to Israel for 25 years. Raising a family, working, living my life. I did not have time for that.  But in 2005 I returned. And since then, I have been back multiple times to visit cousins and friends, and my daughter and her family. Because that trip to Israel in 2005 awakened a yearning for her to live in Israel.

Last year, I reconnected with other family members who live in Israel and were related to Zissel as well. They told me that although Zissel had no immediate family of his own, he was their family and he was always with them for the holidays.  That made me happy. I always wondered if he had a place to go. 

I felt like I needed to say goodbye to Zissel. And tell him how much I appreciated my times meeting with him and for what he had done for the survivors of the Jewish community of Mielec. So I asked my relatives where he was buried.

In February, my daughter and I went to see his grave. I was surprised to see that his name in Hebrew on the tombstone said Judah Lieb Zissel. While he was listed in the directory as Lieb Zissel.  I don’t know why.   I just wondered if it had to do with the Shoah. His grave says:

Here is a charitable man, a survivor of the Shoah. Who dedicated his life to good deeds and supported Torah institutions in the USA.  Lieb Zissel, the son of Matityahu HaCohen Feuer. He died on Shabbat, the 20th day of Adar.    

Only the holiest die on Shabbat. To Jewish people it is a sign of righteousness. Supposedly the souls go straight to their rest.

I left him a stone. Yes, I did put a heart on it. There were other stones there as well. I am glad I went. I felt like I was completing the circle, finishing something that needed to be done.  My daughter told me we could come to visit him whenever I came to visit her. I might do that.  Zissel was an important part of my history.

Today is his yahrzeit. I am writing it on the 29th anniversary of his death. May his name and memory always be a blessing.