On being a little bit dyslexic

This isn't describing just me, but people in your workplace, in the stores you shop at, your friends and online acquaintances.

For dyslexics, somedays everything goes fine, words get spelt right, sentences are formed logically, right and left behave themselves and comply with the accepted norms, numbers get written in the correct order and everything appears to go smoothly.

Nonetheless, I'm careful to proofread, far more times than usually considered necessary. Have I possibly overlooked an errant apostrophe, snuck in to irritate the lurking grammar nazi, ready to pounce with conclusions that I'm lazy, sloppy or even worse, unreliable and not to be trusted because the apostrophe is either there, or not, as the case may be. What a petty way to bestow the word 'reliable' onto someone!

A good and generally keen, willing student, but with occasional lapses in concentration, is how I suspect I was described at school.

I was lucky, I was mostly taught by competent teachers who knew how to encourage me to give my best. I learnt spelling by carefully paced, sequential instruction, each element building on the one before; there was lots, and I mean LOTS of drill, pulling words apart then putting them together again. I enjoyed prefixes and suffices and learning that English is made up of many different languages which have been absorbed through the ages. I still love words and trying to work out their meanings and where they came from by thinking about the different components.

I benefited from having teachers who were on the whole competent and confident in their ability to teach. Even so, I don't always get it right; when writing by hand, p, b, d and q can be interchanged haphazardly and with a certain flair and originality. Spelling can be problematic at times, and sometimes words simply refuse to co-operate. There can be the sense that something is wrong, but I can't see what, yet at other times I'm oblivious to any error, which can be glaringly obvious to others. (Unfortunately maths was a different story and wasn't as well handled by my teachers. I remember being hit for making errors which isn't a great way to get a child to improve.)

However I didn't have to suffer through an ignorant, antagonistic school system while trying to cope with deeply challenging dyslexia or learning difficulty.  Typically you hear: lazy, poor attention to detail, doesn't try, doesn't care, doesn't listen, scatty, should try harder, deliberately careless or the purely cruel tearing up of a child's work in front of the class whilst making scathing comments about quality and appearance of a project.

Maybe there are some little children who deliberately set out each day to do their worst at school. I've never met one though. Most children I've observed and worked with, want to fit in, want to be part of the crowd, don't choose to be humiliated when they've done their darndest to follow instructions to the best of their ability and it all goes pear shaped. They're the ones my heart bleeds for, they're left confused, perplexed, hurt, crushed ... and too often without hope.

A couple of years ago at puppy training class we were instructed to hold the lead in a particular way. I looked at the instructor, looked at my hands. All fine! Good oh, let's get on with the next bit of the class. But no, something is clearly wrong, everyone is waiting patiently. The instructor repeated the instruction, and demonstrated again. I followed along carefully. Then it dawned of me gradually, painfully, that everyone was looking at me - and I had no idea why.

My ears heard the instruction, my eyes saw what to do, but somewhere along the line, my brain twisted the instruction - I saw my hands do a perfect reflection of what everyone else was doing - yet it apparently wasn't correct and I couldn't see what was wrong. It's a horrible, horrible feeling. I knew I'd done everything right, but from the reactions of the instructor and the rest of the class it was obvious that I hadn't got it right.

Even writing about that public display of incompetence makes me feel awkward and humiliated - who knows how those people were judging me? Were they thinking I was being difficult by insisting on being contrary, or did they just think I was thick by being unable to follow a simple instruction? While in this instance it doesn't really matter, in the workplace this kind of experience can have unintended and unfortunate ramifications and is why many dyslexics remain silent about being dyslexic and take extra care and go over details ad nauseam.

Dyslexia can take many different forms. It can affect writing, reading, mathematics and spatial awareness.  It's not a one size fits all condition. Some days everything can run smoothly, others, particularly when you're tired, it can be hugely challenging and frustrating.

Some time ago, I watched a highly intelligent, competent, dyslexic engineer write down a phone number a caller was reciting to him. He repeated the numbers and wrote the same numbers down but in a completely different order, it was only when he repeated them back and was corrected that the mix up became evident to him. Because he's aware this is a difficulty for him he's fastidious about checking for accuracy.

Helpful signs in Parkes NSW

Is it any wonder that with the prejudice surrounding dyslexia that people are reluctant to share the information - one brilliant Australian university professor was fired when he spoke about how he managed his dyslexia. People have reported being overlooked for promotion and treated as lesser human beings; their intelligence is questioned, it's assumed they can't drive - if you can't read, how can you drive?  People with dyslexia or poor literacy can drive, and drive well. You don't have to spell well to navigate or to understand the meanings of signs. Just ask any person who's driven in a foreign country!

Now here's a gentle plea from me to you. Don't be too quick to judge harshly when someone's spelling or grammar is lacking. Tactful, even good natured humor when pointing out an error is kind and generally welcome; the error can then be corrected with the minimum of fuss and embarrassment.

Give people the benefit of the doubt - dyslexics can have a tough time not only at work, but on line. Spell check is great, but can be painstaking in the cut and thrust of online communication and doesn't always work. Some people have been so hurt by their early school experience that they run a mile when they're openly and harshly criticised in forums. Some don't return. That's sad and further alienates a group of people - who could be our workmates, colleagues, friends and neighbours - who have a lot to offer.



Posted by Sue Travers
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"Teaching's a crap job."

"I've done that crap job in Japan. People couldn't pay me enough to do that again. Besides I'm wanting a real job with a good future." This blanket statement appeared in response to a post on G+ where I've found most people are thoughtful with their comments.

If there's one way to get a whole profession offside, that's it. Dismiss every job even remotely associated with teaching as "crap" and with no future. Ouch. 

Needless to say, it was tempting to retaliate in kind, but I resisted the impulse and let my thoughts settle. What did I really think? Why did I feel so insulted?

This person didn't know I was a teacher, so presumably hadn't deliberately set out to be hurtful. But she also hadn't made any effort to assess her attitude or explore what she disliked about the position she'd held in Japan. 

I had thought of offering a few suggestions: questions she could ponder, people she could talk to, articles to read, perhaps some books. But after that rude statement, I didn't feel particularly generous. 

I replied as follows: 

“You may not have realised that by dismissing teaching as a 'crap" job and stating that it's a job with no real future, you're insulting every one of us who has devoted our lives to improving outcomes for students.

Students come in all varieties - they could be disability students, adults returning to study, migrants, special education children, crusty old blokes who need some workplace training, university students and a massive range of other people who need and seek skills from teachers. Are they really all 'crap' jobs with no future?

Without teachers in one form or another, essential skills couldn't be passed on to future generations as efficiently - think of bakers, pharmacists  doctors, nurses, aged care workers, road workers, engineers to name a few. 

The effect of hearing my profession dismissed rudely and thoughtlessly as a "crap" job with no future hurts.

You may have meant to say the position you had at a specific location in Japan didn't suit you or your personality. That would have been valid, honest, understandable and shown a courteous respect for others who have enjoyed a fulfilling career teaching in one form or another.”

In hindsight, there are things I could have added or discarded. Rearranging the paragraphs would have been good. However, I doubt it would have made any difference, the writer of the flippant statement didn't return. Some people have little desire in gaining self awareness and no interest in thinking about how their words and actions affect others.  

I wonder how many others have had their career described as a "crap job"? What do you say? How does it make you feel? Do you try to explain the positives or not bother at all?

You might have been working in the field for 30+years; moved from area to area adding to your enjoyment as you shed the aspects you dislike and focus more on those which compliment your interests, strengths and values.

I’ve written about my love of working with adults and those with learning difficulties in Learning Difficulties in Adults.  I've also discussed some of the challenges of working with adults who’ve become redundant in Redundancy Hurts. I've drabbled about teaching and students during the A - Z April blogging challenge - quite a few of the drabbles are included in this list.

The benefits of my teacher training course have stood the test of time and I’ve enjoyed many challenging roles as well as struggled though a few jobs that didn't suit me.

Whilst I now work mainly in as a career counsellor in private practice, I bring the skills of a teacher with me. The word ‘teacher’ doesn’t define me or my career, but it’s part of who I am and has provided me with rich insights and opportunities.

As a study skills teacher I’ve worked with young people as well as adults. It’s been at various times challenging, rewarding, stressful, infuriating and fulfilling. As I discovered gaps in my skillset, I upgraded and refined my skills: career counselling, learning difficulties, Acceptance Commitment Therapy and further courses in counselling.

Each of these courses has been taught by a teacher. On the whole they were keen, motivated and motivating professionals, encouraging their students to see, acknowledge and build on their strengths. To dismiss the profession globally as crap does a deep disservice to the dedicated people who help others improve their self esteem and job opportunities and even reach their potential. To imply that teaching is a job of lesser value is insulting to teachers and students worldwide.

If the person who made the above remark chooses to retrain, I wonder who they think will present the course? Will they be grateful for the opportunity to learn something new or build on an existing skillset? Will the course open up job prospects, provide entertainment in the form of a hobby, dance or exercise class or help her learn to cope with loss or bereavement?

By using the word "crap" a whole conversations has been closed down.  The opportunity to share, support and learn has gone. 

So while teaching might not suit everyone as a rewarding career it should be a valued and valuable profession. It's far more than a job and it can have a good future.

Who teaches circus skills?
Who passes on the knowledge of mosaic, how to train animals,
make The Big Top, costumes or railways?

Words are powerful, they have the ability to close down or open up dialogue. Which do you choose?

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Learning difficulties in adults.

This is a re-write of a post from 2010.

I often think about all the inspiring, creative, intelligent and above all courageous people I've had the privilege of working with over the years.

There were the street kids, with drug and alcohol issues, the kids and adults with learning difficulties, the kids (now men and women with their own children) who'd been expelled from school the instant schools could get rid of them, and who were returning to study, absolutely terrified of suffering in the system again, the mums returning to study after being at home for years and feeling they'd lost their inner being - didn't know who they were any more, the young teenage mums unsure about how they'd be accepted.  Successful men who felt like failures.

I'm going to share the story about my involvement with Ricky, who has given me permission to use his real name. I wish I had a 'before' and 'after' picture of him to share. You'll see why soon.

Ricky consulted me in my role as study skills teacher at a post secondary college, located in the city of Dandenong which has a mix of over 150 different nationalities, many of them refugees proudly wearing their traditional dress around campus. He'd been advised to seek help as he was struggling hopelessly with the written aspects of the course he'd hesitantly enrolled in to improve his job prospects. 

Facing his fears
I'm not a particularly threatening looking person, I'm short and have been described as approachable, warm and "motherly". But Ricky was terrified. Terrified of me, terrified of the situation he'd got himself into, terrified I'd laugh at him and his difficulties. Terrified of being in such a foreign environment - in a library in an educational facility. But he came along anyway. Courage? You bet!

I've never seen anyone shaking with fear before, but shake Ricky did. It was clearly visible from a distance. I'm sure if he'd been a bony kind of person I'd have heard them clattering.

Why was Ricky in such a state? Here was a mature man, lovingly married, deeply involved in his church, steadily employed, kind and compassionate. Over the few months we worked together he shared some of his story.

He was "a failure", "hopeless", "useless", "a loser". He'd been told from a very young age that he'd never make anything of himself. These words were used on a little kid by both his parents and teachers.

Who says "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me?" Wrong, wrong, wrong. Cruel words, vicious words, undermining words, can affect people for life, can suck hope from them for ever. Words are powerful, and need to be used with respect for the power they have.

"When did you get lost?"
I asked him when he'd begun losing his way at school. It's a question I often ask, and regularly the answer is grade one or two.

"Grade one" was Ricky's answer.

Can you imagine what that's like? Not understanding what's going on in class, seeing your mates doing things you can't, being bewildered, confused, perplexed, week after week, month after month, year after seemingly endless year. Constantly feeling stupid and ashamed when you find the courage to ask, yet again, if the teacher could please repeat an instruction or explanation. Heaven help the child with an irritable, impatient teacher - they naturally give up asking for help. No wonder these kids feel like failures. 

So there I was with Ricky in that first session. His first 'confession' - "I've never been in a library" (apart from walking through one to meet with me). "Easy peasy" I say, "let's discover this one now!" And so it went from there, exploring, discovering, celebrating. It was exciting!

And as happens when working with an enthusiastic student, the learning went both ways. I was humbled by his tenacity, in awe of his dedication to learning, and grateful that we'd been assigned to each other. In short, I was privileged to have met and worked with such a student.

Oh, and you may ask: if Ricky was such a good student, why hadn't he managed at school?

Learning difficulties
Ricky had an undiagnosed learning difficulty. He has an unusual hearing loss, he's not deaf as such, but hears sounds differently (auditory processing disorder or APD). In addition, he is dyslexic. He wasn't (and isn't) dumb. He just couldn't follow what was happening in class the same way as other kids - he needed a different teaching style.

And the before and after picture? From a quivering mess on that first meeting to our final session; confident, assured, walking tall, and proud of his ability to present a report for his course and workplace.

Ricky was a man with courage to face his worst fears and overcome them. There are many other Ricky's out there, men and women whose lives can be turned around, who feel like failures and discover they aren't. The discovery that they can learn and be productive members of society affects their immediate families and can change the course of their family history. The debilitating and costly affects of stress and depression can be offset as these students realise their worth.  Our communities benefit, as does our society as a whole. It's a small investment with a massive payoff.

Update
This is one of the outstanding programmes which I'm told will be severely curtailed due to the vicious funding cuts to the TAFE sector by the Victorian Baillieu government. For less than $2000 (the approximate cost of my sessional work with Ricky) a student who had low self esteem, had no idea how to write a report and little possibility of advancing in his workplace was transformed to a confident, able and desirable employee. It's not that I was brilliant, I'm not.

It's simply taking time and working from where the student is and translating knowledge into a form that they understand. It's being a mediator, a gate opener. It's being caring, respectful and trusting in their ability to learn.

People who are at the bottom of the ladder, who have challenges that often simply require one on one assistance for a few hours a week for a couple of months to achieve remarkable success, are again relegated to the scrap heap in the name of cost cutting and efficiency.

The doors are firmly closing on many people, and education seems to be increasingly only for those with the understanding of how to access it, and the financial ability to afford the steeply rising fees.

This destruction is being carefully packaged and slickly presented in the name of progress. And the people of Victoria are meant to go along with the pretence that the removal of courses and services is an improvement.

Are there adults in your life with leaning difficulties? How do they manage? Were they supported adequately at school, at work?

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A teacher's legacy

The following rant is my grumpy reaction to David L Macaulay's recent stream of consciousness post where he talks about a teacher: "He bawled at me to look at my tables book and I buried my head in it, so deeply that I wasn't coming up for air. Suddenly the light was cut off again and I realized in horror I had missed the cue to put my book down."  You'll find the whole post here: (Brits in the USA).


I felt quite distressed when I read this, and was compelled to respond.  In no way am I implying that what follows is a reflection on David, his life or experiences.

Working as a Study Skills teacher I've supported many students keen to gain the education they missed when they were young. I've heard countless heart-wrenching stories from mature adults dreadfully hurt and wary of the school system, which in their experience was unsupportive. Then there are the refugees, finally finding safety far from their country of birth, confused, misunderstood and perplexed about our local culture and language, yet desperately trying to fit in and find a productive role to play in their new home.

I acknowledge that there are extremely challenging students that teachers face daily. Some are certainly very, very difficult kids. It's no excuse though. We need to do better. Better teacher training, more appropriate resources, better facilities ... the list goes on and on, forever maybe, but our education systems desperately need to improve to benefit all learners.

Governments in countries where it's affordable, need to be generous is their response to the needs of children and schools; the individual students, their families, their classrooms, our diverse communities, and our countries will reap the benefits - not just for one generation, but for many years to come.

The following quote from the  Winter 2011 edition of 'Brain World' captures beautifully the awesome power of a teacher. As I've noted before (here) and which you can read in many articles, such as this one appearing in Life's a Poodle, the power of a teacher can be used for good or ill.  It sometimes seems that too many teachers become complacent (or were always ignorant) about their impact on fragile lives, and this forgetting has ramifications for years to come.

"I have come to a frightening conclusion." writes Haim Ginott, in his book Between Parent and Child: The Bestselling Classic That Revolutionized Parent-child Communication (Three Rivers Press, 2003). "I am the decisive element in the classroom. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. As a teacher, I posses tremendous power to make a child's life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated, and a child de-humanized or humanized."

I'd like that quote to be writ large and for all teachers to read it before they enter a classroom; to reflect again at the end of each day, asking "How well did I perform today?" "How can I improve tomorrow?" and if they need help and support to achieve that aim, for that help to be readily, generously and uncritically available.

and in another part of the magazine:

Parents and teachers make learning more memorable for children not by threats of punishment but by bonding their thinking and learning with their emotions. There are two consequences of punishment - both negative- that should be kept clearly in mind:

First, when stressed, people show a heightened amount of activity in the amygdala... During these stressful episodes, there is a reduction in higher-order ... activity... in the regions of the brain responsible for generating complex intelligent solutions.

The negative impact of fear on learning
Basically, you can't think clearly if you've got a large, powerful person standing over you, threatening verbally, and being intimidating by their sheer furious presence or shouting. Equally frightening can be vicious, under the breath threats uttered in a hissing tone. 

During one of my study skills classes with a group of adults who I'd been working with for some weeks, we, as a group decided to do a role play. I introduced and explained the scenario above, and after extensive discussion and gaining the permission of the entire class, including the student who'd volunteered to play the child being growled at, we role-played this scenario: 

I (on the short side) stood over the seated adult male student and shouted at him (not loudly, I'm not good at and don't enjoy role plays). He was a large bloke. Standing, he towered over me. After this short, pretend outburst, the group, including the "victim" discussed their reactions at length. 

The effect is sobering. A short person, in a position of perceived power, is intimidating, even when the students are adults, and even when the group is prepared and knows what's going to happen.

The observers in the class discussed how they also felt afraid, not only for the victim, but on the off-chance they would be targeted next. They wanted to fade away. This group trusted and respected me. Imagine if they had reason to fear me.

Angry parents
The parents among them were convinced they'd remember this class when they wanted to shout at their own children. They said they really understood how frightening they'd appear to their children when they're angry - the impact was so powerful, and they felt so powerless.

I want teachers, parents and employers to remember this: No one learns well when they're being yelled at.

Pay attention!

Second, students and children are frequently and unfairly admonished for "not paying attention". Their little brains are processing over four billion bits of information every single second! So they are paying attention to a myriad of things; the teacher, the parent or the lecture just don't happen to be among them at the moment. However, once the content is made personally relevant, we have their undivided attention."

And remember, we're not talking about kids who have a difficult home life here, just regular kids, no learning difficulties, no dyslexia, no ADD or ADHD, or Auditory Processing Disorder or Autism Spectrum Disorder - nothing out of the ordinary. How much more difficult is learning for the kids who need additional help and understanding?

We can do so much to support students in their learning. Huge amounts of research have been conducted into how to create a learning environment that supports all students. We know how to improve outcomes for all students - and cutting funding isn't the way. 

Sadly, I'm not confident of positive change to our education system any time to soon.

John Medina's "brain rules" has lots of accessible, relevant, easy to read nerdy stuff about the brain, or visit www.brainrules.net

For a great read on schooling in Pakistan and how vital schooling is in underdeveloped countries, (indeed for the whole world) borrow or buy "Three  Cups of Tea. One Man's Mission to Promote Peace ... One School at a Time" Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin.

  

I think I'm off my soapbox for now, but I need a 'post rant' cup of tea.

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Digital lives and an unfulfillable wish.

"Come on, don't reject my pleas so cruelly. Together we can do this. It'll be interesting, you'll see and then we won't seem like such fossilized dinosaurs in this wonderful digital world."

It's like living in a foreign country where you know a few words and hesitantly use them, pronunciation incorrect as it turns out ... and mostly in the wrong context. Where everything is alien and unattainable.

"Don't be so cold and unyielding, rejecting all my entreaties.
Come on brain! Without you, I'm nothing. You're meant to be on my side. Please help.

I want to be a digital native!!"



A Drabble is a story told in 100 words. No more, no less.

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Reading, Learning Difficulties & the joy of Post Graduate courses

Words can't describe my feelings toward your father, a respected teacher.

Never cared enough to teach you to read, locked you away when you cried, until the authorities discovered the dreadful abuse you endured, and removed you to a safer place.

At 16, rejected by the education system as too difficult to manage, you were welcomed where I worked.

Your bewilderment at the written word spurred me to action, to learn to teach reading.

Too late for you though, you'd been moved on.

I'd have enjoyed working with you. I'm sorry it didn't happen, but thankyou for changing my life.

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A drabble is a story told in 100 words. No more. No less.

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This drabble is based on a true story of a teenager who'd been removed from the family home due to abuse, and describes why I undertook postgraduate units to learn to teach adults and dyslexics to learn to read. Our society treats people who struggle with reading as lazy, incompetent, dumb or half witted and as if they're less than second class citizens.  There's always a story behind the difficulties they face, and sometimes it's having an abusive parent and missing years of schooling.


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The courage of a gentle man.

Writing a previous blog on change got me thinking about all the wonderful, inspiring, creative, thoughtful, ethical, warm hearted and above all courageous people I've had the privilege of working with over the years.

There were the street kids, with drug and alcohol issues, the kids with learning difficulties, the adults with learning difficulties, the adults who'd been kicked out of school as soon as schools could get rid of them and who were returning to study absolutely terrified of suffering in 'the system' again, the mums returning to study or preparing to enter the workforce, the teenage mums unsure about how they'd be accepted, the mature blokes confessing that they hated their jobs and who were desperate for a new direction.

Hmm, on re-reading the above paragraphs, I'd have to admit that some of my clients haven't been quite so ethical, and perhaps warm hearted is a bit of a stretch too, but courageous? Yes absolutely!

I'm going to share the story about my involvement with Ricky, and he's given me permission to use his real name. I wish I had a 'before' and 'after' picture of him to share. You'll see why soon.

Ricky consulted me in my role as study skills teacher at a post secondary college. He'd been advised to seek help as he was really struggling with the written aspects of the course he'd enrolled in. You can't really tell from my photo, but I'm not exactly a large person, in fact the phrase "suffering from ducks disease" has been applied to me all too often *sigh*.

I also like to think that I'm not a particularly threatening looking person. But Ricky was terrified. Terrified of me, terrified of the situation he'd got himself into, terrified I'd laugh at him and his difficulties. But he came along anyway. Courage? You bet!

I've never seen anyone shaking with fear before. And shake Ricky did. It was visible from a distance. I'm sure if he'd been a bony kind of person I'd have heard them clattering.

Why was Ricky in such a state? Here was a mature man, lovingly married, deeply involved in his church, steadily employed, kind and compassionate. Over quite a few months he shared some of his story.

He was "a failure", "hopeless", "useless", "a loser". He'd been told from a very young age that he'd "never make anything of himself". These words were used on a little kid by parents AND teachers. Who says "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me?" Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I asked him when he'd begun losing his way at school. "Grade one". It's a question I often ask now, and regularly the answer is grade one or two. Can you imagine what that's like? Not understanding what's going on in class, seeing your mates doing things you can't, being bewildered, confused, perplexed. My heart breaks for these kids.

So there I was with Ricky in that first session. His first 'confession' - "I've never been in a library" (apart from walking through one to meet with me). "Easy peasy" I say, "lets discover this one now!" And so it went from there, exploring discovering, celebrating. It was great!

And as happens when working with an enthusiastic student, the learning went both ways. I was humbled by his tenacity, in awe of his dedication to learning, and grateful that we'd been assigned to each other. In short I was privileged to have met and worked with such a student.

Oh, and you may ask: if Ricky was such a good student, why hadn't he managed at school?

Ricky had an undiagnosed learning difficulty. He has an unusual hearing loss, he's not deaf as such, but hears sounds differently (auditory processing disorder or APD). In addition, he is dyslexic. He wasn't (and isn't) dumb. He just couldn't follow what was happening in class the same way as other kids - he needed a different teaching style.

And the before and after picture? From a quivering mess on that first meeting to our final session; confident, assured and walking tall.

There was a man with courage to really face his worst fears and overcome them.

The Mask

It’s happened a few times now.

Everything appears to be going well. The students are contributing enthusiastically, writing when asked, chatting in pairs when that is requested, and contributing to the brainstorm of ideas I’m hurriedly writing on the board.

I thoroughly enjoy working with adults who are returning to study. So often they are unreasonably nervous. They don’t yet know how competent they are, so they feel quite entitled to be quivering with uncertainty. My job is to assist them to accept that they’ve 'got what it takes' and to unearth the skills they don’t yet know they have.

We discuss how adults learn, the different learning styles, and when time permits, we also squeeze in some light-hearted quizzes. It’s all in the service of unpacking the mystery of expectations at the tertiary level, and ensuring success is attainable.

Sometimes however, things go a little askew. You see, when discussing learning styles, it quickly becomes apparent that many adults I work with have grown up in the “sit still, do as I say, and don’t ask questions” classroom.

As you can imagine, for someone who is for instance a kinaesthetic learner, this hasn’t worked to their advantage, and their schooling has been less than ideal. Some struggle on suffering in silence, some withdraw completely, and others act up and get kicked out at the earliest opportunity.

I’ve learnt to keep a tissue box on hand when presenting this particular workshop. It’s not that I’m a meanie, and bring students to tears. But often there’s a release of pent up tension that results in weeping, and on occasion outright sobbing.

Tears of grief, tears of sadness at schooling wasted because teachers haven’t known about or have been unable to accommodate different styles of learning. Sometimes this is due to ignorance, often there were too many children in a class, and occasionally… well, some teachers had lost their passion for teaching, and possibly should have changed careers.

But often the tears are those of relief. Some adults are so relieved to discover they aren’t stupid. It’s a revelation for them to discover they simply learn differently. They feel validated, reassured, and empowered. They are ready to forge ahead with new tools and a different perspective.

What a privilege not only to help adult students realize that learning can be fun, but that academic success is within their grasp.


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