III. I Belted My Son!
A senior and well-known consultant psychiatrist in Kochi (Ernakulam)
authored an article in The Week special booklet on Dyslexia. This was
the first article I ever read on the subject. If I recall correctly, he
mentioned that he had belted his son, unaware of the learning disability
factor, a mistake for which his son was not responsible. Awareness of specific
learning disabilities like Dyslexia was not common, even among many doctors and
educators. We learned about the Child Care Centre in Kochi and waited about two
months to get an appointment for a consultation for our son. It was at the
billboard there that I first noticed this article.
The Child Care Centre (CCC)
Joash, our son, was just in the first grade. In 1998, we moved to Tiruvalla.
After discussing with a close relative, we decided to enroll him at Bala Vihar,
a primary school run by a retired college professor. The school’s slogan was,
“A small school for small children,” and I believed it would serve our purpose.
As schooling progressed, we realized that while he was learning, he did not
complete his classwork or homework. Since a colleague’s daughter, Becky, was
also in his class, we could always compare their classwork. When Becky had
written a page, Joash would have written only a line or, at most, two and a half
lines. Most of our after-school time was spent completing his classwork and
then his homework.
As a teaching faculty member, we lived in the staff quarters, and Joash
could see children playing outside through the window. He wanted to join them,
but how could we send him to school the next day with unfinished work? We would
pull the curtains and insist he finish his copying before he could play. This
often resulted in tears. If we had relaxed, the next meeting with the class
teacher would have only brought us shame. “What are you doing at home?” the
teacher yelled when we met her on the open day.
I used to drop and pick him up from school, and I noticed that his seat had
moved from the front row to the last, though the teacher claimed that seating
was rotated. One day, I arrived a bit early before the evening bell. Joash was
sitting in the last row, playing with something like a twine or an elastic
string while the teacher was teaching. At one point, his bench toppled over,
and he fell back against the classroom wall, which was only high enough to
reach bench level.
When Joash entered the house, the first thing he would do after taking off
his shoes was drop his school bag near the door, remove his shoes, and skid on
his socks through the hall as though skating. This was something he
could only do at home on the polished floor of the newly built quarters.
He seemed very active, creative, and inquisitive. Every new thing he saw, he
wanted to explore, even crawling inside the counter at a shop to check the
shelves behind the salesman. In those days, shops typically had table-high
shelves in front and behind, with a small half door through which the staff
could move. Joash could easily bend and enter for his “research.”
I realized that more than our son, we needed help to support his schooling.
So, we made an appointment at the Child Care Centre (CCC) in Kochi to have
Joash assessed and learn how to manage his schooling.
After two months of waiting, we visited the CCC. The special educator or
psychologist spent some time with us and with Joash. Their report suggested he
might be dyslexic, but he was too young to test and confirm. He was also
referred to Dr. Dilip (name changed), the psychiatrist whose article I had seen on the
notice board. I felt we were on the right path. We located Dr. Dilip’s clinic
and waited for our appointment, noticing other parents with their children
waiting for reviews.
Dr. Dilip’s consulting room looked like a study. He sat in a revolving
chair while Joash and I sat across a sofa. There was a shelf full
of reference books. He listened to my story and observed Joash keenly. He also
shared stories about Winston Churchill and Edison, who were dyslexic, and
showed me some paper clippings about them. He recalled one story where a father
asked his son to get something from “the right drawer of the table,” and the
son clarified, “Your right or my right?”
I was interested. I leaned over the glass-topped table, and Joash
sat on my right. The doctor pointed to a red hardcover book on the shelf and asked Joash to bring it. He opened the glass door and did so, and the doctor
opened a page and asked me to read a paragraph. He said Joash was typical of
ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) and also showed me a page on
ADD.
The doctor prescribed some medications and asked us to return for a review
in a month. Since I was not from Kochi, I decided to buy the prescribed drugs there.
I remember one of them was called Buscalm. Back in 1998, the internet wasn’t
common, and smartphones didn’t exist, so I asked the pharmacist about the uses
of tablets. He said it was to calm the user. For hyperactivity, that seemed
right to me. On the train back to Tiruvalla with Joash, my curiosity grew. I
decided to learn more about ADHD.
ADD and ADHD!
I went to an internet café, which was not common at the time—there were only
a couple of them in town—and I began researching ADHD. I printed a good number
of pages from my Google search to study in depth. Attention Deficit
Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is a neurodevelopmental condition characterized
by persistent patterns of inattention, hyperactivity, and impulsivity. Children
with ADHD often struggle to focus on tasks, have difficulty organizing
activities, and may exhibit excessive fidgeting or restlessness. This can make
schoolwork, which requires sustained concentration and order, particularly
challenging. ADHD is not a reflection of intelligence or ability but a
difference in how the brain processes information. As I delved deeper into my
research and discussed it with some friendly doctors we met in social
situations, I began to realize that Joash was not hyperactive as initially
diagnosed by Dr. Dilip. So, after the second visit to the doctor, which was just to continue
the medication, we decided to stop those drugs and explore other avenues for
learning that would better suit his needs.
At Bala Vihar, we met with teachers to discuss the insights from the Child
Care Centre, such as the possibility of Joash taking his final tests orally. We
spoke with the school principal, Mrs. Athyal, who mentioned she had heard of
special learning disabilities from her daughter, a teacher in Australia, but
was unsure how to manage it in her school. We also visited the Malayalam,
Maths, and EVS teachers at their homes. They understood our concerns and
promised to pay special attention to Joash’s work. During the final exam, the
EVS teacher conducted the test orally and recorded Joash’s answers, resulting
in a 94% score!
This boosted our confidence. When the summer holidays were over, I rode my Bajaj
scooter to the school, and as usual, the class results were posted on the wall.
Joash’s result was withheld, and a note requested that we meet with the
manager, Prof. Titus, a retired professor from Mar Thoma College. When I met
him, he said Joash’s answer sheets were almost blank, and he could not be
promoted. We left, wondering what to do next.
Ms. Santha Mathai had taken over as the new principal, replacing Mrs.
Athyal. Ms. Mathai had recently returned from Dehradun to settle in Kerala and
was more aware of children’s special learning needs. In the school office, we
met both Prof. Titus and Ms. Mathai. Prof. Titus insisted that Joash could not
be promoted as he hadn’t passed his subjects. I reminded him that if Joash had been
tested orally, he would have passed, just like in EVS. Ms. Mathai argued that a
primary student in Class II should not be held back due to writing issues.
Prof. Titus was upset and eventually said, “Then Miss, take care of him.”
So Joash was promoted to Class III, but we continued searching for a more
suitable learning environment for him.
Dr. Niramala, a pediatrician, suggested I meet Sreekumar, a teacher at a
concept school run by an ashram in Malakkara, Chengannur. I arranged an
appointment with Mr. Sreekumar and also spoke with Ms. Santha Mathai. Together,
we visited the school to observe their system. It was a different kind of
school, full of activities and experiments designed for students to learn at
their own pace, with teachers monitoring their progress. There were no homework
or impositions, and students only transitioned to the ICSC syllabus in higher
classes. Though we couldn’t afford the tuition and Joash didn’t qualify for
admission, this visit opened my eyes to the possibility of schools focusing
on creating a conducive learning environment.
I continued exploring other school options. Mr. Sreekumar mentioned Labour
India School in Marangattupally near Palai, which operated on a kind of
Gurukulam concept, at least for after-school hours. The school had staff
members who monitored study time and hostel life, especially for students from
NRI families. However, after a brief tour and meeting with a staff member, I
realized that this school would not suit our needs either.
Fast forward 26 years, and Joash is now thriving as the cofounder of a Medical Tech company, Mykare Health, based in Kochi. His journey from those early struggles to where he stands today is a testament to resilience and finding the right support. However, the path we traveled as parents, and the lessons Joash learned along the way, were filled with challenges and insights that shaped him. Here are a few more of those experiences, which might offer help to others facing similar situations.
To be continued...
Previous Posts:
II.The Learning Began
https://dyslexiafailed.blogspot.com/2022/07/the-learning-began.html
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