There is some sort of stigma with learning disabilities, but often you can’t tell when someone has one.

BY LIANA NACCARATO

IMAGE BY CHESLEY DAVIS

 Growing up, school was a struggle for me. I remember teachers thinking I was a bad student because I didn’t get as good grades as the other students, and I would rarely pay as much attention as them. Being put on the spot was a nightmare.

Teacher: “What answer did you get, Liana?”

I would freeze, staring around the room at the other students looking at me, waiting for me to answer. I wouldn’t answer even if I did have one; I would be too embarrassed to share it in case it was wrong. I would just shrug and quietly say I didn’t know. I could see the teacher’s face like they had “won” or made a point.

Even after I had been assessed and given an IEP, I still noticed teachers’ unwillingness to understand. They would wait until the core resource teacher would come to collect all the “bad” students. I remember feeling embarrassed leaving the class to go to the “special room.” Even there I didn’t feel understood; they would treat us like we had the knowledge of a toddler. I knew I wasn’t dumb, but they made me feel like it.

One other girl understood me. Her name was Jackie.

Jackie: “I feel like this is making us stupider.”

They gave us laptops to use to “help” us. As much as it seemed like a sweet deal—what kid wouldn’t want a laptop at school?—I hated it. I hated it because it would make me stand out. Every time they asked us to use it, I would argue that I didn’t need it. I wanted to be like the “normal” kids, the ones who did not need tools to prosper academically.

I never had a teacher I liked in elementary school, but in high school, things changed. They offered me a chance to be in smaller classes that they created for students with learning disabilities. At first, I hated that idea. I felt like I was above something like that.

Mom: “I think it would be good. You could get more one-on-one help.”

Me: “I don’t know. I don’t think I need that help.”

I did need that help, and I did take those classes. Plus, it was only for the first two years. It wasn’t so bad. The teachers were nice, and everything was dumbed down. I felt like I was cheating. The work was very easy—I suspected they just thought we were dumb. For me, it boiled down to my memory and how something was explained to me. I was still embarrassed.

My friends didn’t even know I was in those smaller classes. I have no idea how I went through those two years and none of my friends knew. I always had an answer, so no one suspected anything.

Friend: “I hate how we haven’t had any classes together. I wonder why.”

Me: “I know. I hate this school.”

When it was finally time to be enrolled in “regular” classes, I was kind of nervous because I had the easiest first couple of high school years ever and was about to be snapped back into reality. Although we had “regular” classes, we still had one period of Learning Strategies with the same teachers from the smaller classes. The difference was that the Learning Strategies classes weren’t just my smaller classroom classmates, but other students who had learning disabilities in the grade. It helped me realize that a lot more people have learning disabilities and that I shouldn’t be as embarrassed as I was. There is some sort of stigma with learning disabilities, but often, you can’t tell when someone has one. It’s simply because they all look different. It can be something like dyslexia, ADHD, or even just that you need extra time and examples.

One teacher made a difference. A big difference. Let’s call her Miss A. It was time to apply to colleges. She sat me down at her computer and read me different programs for what felt like hours.

Miss A: “Nursing?”

Me: “Have you met me?”

Miss A: “Television?”

Me: “I don’t know, maybe…”

Miss A: “Radio broadcasting?”

Me: “Actually… yeah.”

Miss A: “Great. Your homework is to apply, so get it done.”

She made sure I applied. Even though I switched my program to journalism, I’m not sure where I would’ve been if she hadn’t sat there with me. I remember telling my mom and seeing her face light up with happiness.

Mom: “She really sat with you?”

Me: “Yup…”

Mom: “Wow, what teacher even does that?”

Me: “Yeah! I am applying to colleges tonight.”

Miss A was an angel. We need more teachers like Miss A in this world.

The biggest thing I learned once I got to college was that I wasn’t different, and I wasn’t at a disadvantage. I was in the same program as people who graduated on the honour roll from their high school and had previous degrees. I couldn’t be that dumb if I was in the same spot as them (it was pretty ignorant thinking, but it kept me encouraged). I decided to proceed through my post-secondary career without accommodations. I’m not sure if that’s because I was still too stubborn to accept the fact that I needed accommodations or to test my intelligence, but my professors were kind enough to give me more time when needed.

Me: “So… super last minute, but could I submit this in two more days?”

Professor: “That works for me.”

Me: “Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

I really did appreciate it; those were the professors I respected the most.

College was the first time I didn’t feel like a “bad” kid, and I’m not sure why that is or what had really changed. I guess it boils down to whether a professor is willing to sit, listen, and help, even if it is in the smallest way possible.

Me: “Uh… I’m sorry, but could you show me how to do that again?”

Professor: “Of course. It took me so long to understand this myself.”

Hearing that a professor struggled with something that I was struggling with helped me a lot. When I doubt myself, I replay that conversation over and over again.

Me: “See? Everyone struggles.”

My best advice to any teacher is to be patient. If your student isn’t doing well, figure out how to help because it isn’t our fault. We need a small nudge and someone to listen. My best advice for students struggling with a learning disability is this: don’t sell yourself short. You are smart, you are capable, and you should accept the resources available to you because it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. My last piece of advice is to people without a learning disability: we are all the same. We have the same goals, but we get there differently. If someone has an accommodation, they aren’t at an advantage to you, they are finally at the same level as everyone else.

Liana Naccarato is a Journalism student at Humber College. Her goal after graduation is to work for a fashion magazine, as fashion is one of her main interests. She has always loved to write, whether it be news articles, journaling, or creative writing, as it allows her to express herself and her creativity.

Image: Abstract Still Life (Chesley Davis, 2023)

Edited for publication by Dylan Earle, as part of the Creative Book Publishing program.

HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation and the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts.