To See Adam Smile: Raising a Child With a "Learning Disability"

Adam's eyes are chocolate brown, like coffee beans. He is tall and handsome, and his heart is as sweet and as beautiful as can be. He was born 31 years ago and was received with joy and excitement by his father and me, as well as by all the extended family.

As he grew, day by day, year by year, our love for him grew, and, as it is with parents, we watched with delight as all the wonderful aspects of Adam's personality developed. He was bright and outgoing, he was sweet and loving, and not at all shy.

When Adam was five years old and ready for kindergarten, we enrolled him in a Montesorri school. The "Montesorri" concept was new to us and we thought the open classroom would be a wonderful place for our talented little guy to develop all the gifts that we knew he possessed. We couldn't have been more wrong! In the "open" classroom, Adam became lost and confused. There was little structure (which was the way this classroom was planned so that children could be freely expressive) and our son could not function without it. Adam's teacher called us in time after time during that school year to discuss the fact that there was obviously "something wrong with him". We were told to take him to a neurologist to be sure his brain was in tact. Being young and inexperienced, we took this advice. Of course, Adam's brain was found to be perfectly fine.

My husband and I felt lost. We didn't know where to turn for help. Adam was struggling terribly and the teachers at the Montesorri school offered no assistance, or even hope. We had never even heard of a "learning disability" at that point in our lives; therefore we had no idea what to do or who to turn to for help.

When Adam finished his year of kindergarten, we decided to enroll him in a school that would offer him a more structured atmosphere. We understood that Montesorri classrooms do very well for some children, but, obviously, it was not the right place for our son. He began first grade in a very good Catholic school in our neighborhood. His teacher was very in tune to the needs of each child in her class. She recognized the symptoms that Adam displayed. Before the end of the first week of school, she had contacted us with the suggestion of having him tested for a "learning disability". He stayed in her class for the rest of that year, undergoing testing while she worked with him, sensitive to his needs in the classroom situation.

Adam, we were told when the testing was complete, was definitely "learning disabled". Something had not developed properly within his brain before he was born. One of his biggest challenges, they continued to say, was his eye and ear to hand coordination. Something would be lost between the "seeing" and the "hearing" and, as a result, his performance would not reflect that he had an understanding of what he had been told. Another symptom of this disability were hyperactivity in the form of talking. He would chatter incessantly; not quick, aimless chatter, just constant.

As Adam grew, other symptoms of his "learning disability" began to surface. Symptoms that his father and I recognized even in ourselves. In researching his condition throughout Adam's school years, I found that a child with a learning disability often times has at least one parent who has the same symptoms, but may never have been diagnosed. We traveled all the channels with Adam throughout his school years; and each year, beginning a new grade with new teachers, often felt like starting all over again from scratch. There was always an adjustment period, for Adam and the teacher(s), and, yes, the blunt truth is that there were years when there were teachers who just did not adjust (and a few who just didn't want to). And there were also several teachers who I wished would remain with Adam until high school graduation. Their sensitivity to his struggles and frustration were like a breath of fresh air to all of us. They knew how to reach the place in his heart that was wounded through the years that he spent in classrooms where he just melted into the crowd and was left to his own wandering imagination.

But this article is not meant to focus on the school system. The above is just a little bit of background to introduce you to a remarkable young man who, in spite of the way things sometimes look in the natural, has, and continues to, overcome tremendous difficulties and adversity as a result of a learning disability. It is meant to give encouragement to those experiencing a learning disability, ADD, ADHD, or anything under this vast category that causes you to feel as though you're less than anyone else or unable to achieve any ambition that tugs at your heart. This simply is not true.

During Adam's "growing up years", we came to understand that what he lacked in some areas, he certainly made up for in others. We began to notice when he was small that, although his imagination did wander, it took him to places that enabled him to be tremendously creative. I would say that creativity began to develop within him, but I believe the truth is that this creativity was always there, that it was placed within Adam by God when He created him, and that it was always meant to be the center of his personality. I have met very few who can weave a story as creatively as Adam can. His ability to create a world beyond the imagination is completely captivating. These days Adam uses this ability by writing down his stories and his ideas so that he can share this exciting gift with others. We all need a little stretch in our imaginations from time to time.

Throughout his growing up years we watched Adam go through times of loneliness, anxiety, and depression that stemmed from the rejection and frustration of growing up with a learning disability. I have come to believe over time that a "learning disability" is simply a name for something that is different. I know now that I have a learning disability. I believe that, calling it a "disability" is just another way to say that we "learn differently". Not conventionally.

To see joy on our son's face is a beautiful thing for my husband and me. My heart has broken a thousand times over the years as I looked into those "coffee bean eyes" and saw all the emotion generated from the hurt he feels deep inside. He has spent much of his life being teased and belittled by people, young people and adults, who look only at the differences in him and not at the beautiful person that he is. It could be that writing his stories is an escape route for Adam. It could be that this is his way of retreating into a world of his own. But it is a world of talent to be explored, a world of excitement for him and for all who share the journey into his imagination by reading his stories.

Joy is not something that we are supposed to have to earn. It is a free gift given to us by God because of His love for us. However, sometimes, because of circumstances beyond our control, we lose sight of this fact and joy seems difficult to attain. That makes it all the more precious when we do find it. It is that joy on the face of our son that is so precious to my husband and me now when we look into those "coffee bean eyes". To see Adam smile, knowing that his heart is filled with joy is one of the greatest gifts that we have been given.