Then very early one morning, around 5:00 am, I heard a little voice coming from the living room. I quietly tiptoed down the hallway, before poking my head into the room. I saw Nicholas sitting cross-legged, dressed for school, and reading a book. Tears ran down my face as I watched him achieve something that once appeared impossible.
“There is no correlation between ease of learning to read and IQ.”
This motto should be on every wall in every school and in every principal and diagnostician’s office. This knowledge is often hidden through the never-ending testing and impacts mindsets, teaching, and student learning.
My journey began in Brisbane, Australia, in January 1994, when I sent my five-year-old son, Nicholas, to school. He had been in kindergarten and preschool. During these more play-based settings, he appeared to be doing okay. Yet it was his slow verbal responses and his withdrawal that put me on edge.
It only took the first grade teacher one week before she called me.
“I’m sorry, Lois, but he is just so slow! He stares into space most of the day, and I don’t know how I’m going to teach him,” she said matter-of-factly. Sadly, it would be my first encounter of many.
Her words only confirmed his behavior. His fingernails were bitten to the quick; his pants smelled of urine daily. He seemed in another world—another dimension—when I’d ask him about anything. It would take years before I found out about his social isolation.
My son’s first year in school was terrifying, with standardized testing confirming he could only read ten words, displayed no strengths, and had a low IQ.
However, the following year (1995), our family had an opportunity to move from our Australian homeland to England with my husband’s work for six months. This opened up the chance to homeschool Nicholas. I wanted to work in a quiet, one-on-one setting. I purchased a series of phonics books that proposed “Success for All.” They proved to be an abject failure.
I reached out to my mother-in-law. “Lois,” she said, “put away what is not working, and make learning fun.”
Her words caused me to stop, rethink, and reimagine teaching.
From working with Nicholas, I knew he could do two things: rhyme words and see patterns. With such thoughts, I began to write simple poems, using both his known strengths. The first poem caused a transformation in our classroom. I read the poem to Nicholas, opening the conversation for stress-free, repeated readings as we discussed the meaning of the poem, found rhyming words, and engaged in art activities. We recited them, he illustrated each one, and his excitement for learning grew.
It was writing a poem with the rhyming words “cook, look, and book” which transformed his education. Thinking about Captain Cook, the last of the great explorers who completed the mapping of Australia, I wrote:
Captain Cook had a notion there was a gap in the map of a great big ocean.
He took a look, without the help of any book, hoping to find a quiet little nook.
We recited this poem, but it was looking at old maps that tapped into Nicholas’s curiosity. Finding a map dated around 1550 intrigued him as there was a “gap in the map.” Australia was not there.
“Who came before Captain Cook?” he asked.
“That’s easy,” I replied. “Christopher Columbus.”
“And who came before Columbus?”
I stopped. Nicholas’s question gave me a glimpse, a peephole, into his mind. I imagine it, filled with pictures. Taking those complex pictures and putting them into words took visible effort. His thoughts appeared to go around and round before he found the right words, then put them in the correct order followed by speaking them. My listening also took effort. I would stop all activities, gain eye-contact, and listen attentively.
His curiosity drove our lessons; teaching and learning felt exciting. I sensed Nicholas’s knowledge grow, even explode.
While there was overall improvement on his reading, I felt progress could be measured in millimeters. He was, in fact, learning; it was just slow. Yet his interest in history, his engagement in our lessons, and his questions said to me: Nicholas does not have a low IQ. After completing our six-month stay, we returned to Australia. I was delighted with Nicholas’s growth, and he returned to school to repeat second grade.
Shortly into the new school year, I stopped by the diagnostician’s office, optimistic about Nicholas’ achievements.
“I just thought you might like to know these past six months were amazing! Nicholas had such an exciting time learning,” I said.
“Well,” she said, “I’m pleased to hear that. Because I’ve spoken to the reading teacher, and she tells me he has gone backward.”
The smile dropped from my face.
“Oh,” I replied, “my teaching was a little different. Nicholas learned about Captain Cook, and he asked to see Captain Cook’s original maps.”
“Well,” she said, “he’s the worst child I’ve seen in twenty years of teaching.”
I stood there stunned, my body turned to ice. With no response, I walked to my car with my tail between my legs.
As I drove home, I reflected on the past six months—the fun and joy of learning, with the contrasting diagnostician’s words. Like a race car driver, I turned my car around and headed back to school, my anger seething. I didn’t yet have the motto, “There’s no correlation between learning to read and IQ,” but I should have. Instead, I entered the diagnostician’s office with conviction.
“Well, if he is the ‘worst child you have seen in twenty years of teaching,’ then don’t expect him to learn like everyone else!”
And that was the day I steeled myself to continue teaching as I had over the last six months, until my son learned to read and write like every other child in school.
And that is what happened.
I sent Nicholas to school while I spent my days thinking of what else was required to help him. In the afternoon, we worked on appropriate learning activities together. These sentences cover hours of learning.
Then very early one morning, around 5:00 am, I heard a little voice coming from the living room. I quietly tiptoed down the hallway, before poking my head into the room. I saw Nicholas sitting cross-legged, dressed for school, and reading a book. Tears ran down my face as I watched him achieve something that once appeared impossible.
This was the first steps toward a remarkable achievement some twenty-odd years later. In 2013, Nicholas was awarded a scholarship to study in the Department of Applied Mathematics to complete his D.Phil. (Ph.D.) at Oxford University. On May 12, 2018, he joined the ranks of graduates to become Dr. Nicholas Letchford. D.Phil. (Oxf) B.Eng. (UTAS) Hons., B. Sc. (UTAS) Hons.
When children struggle with learning to read, let’s never forget: “There is no correlation between learning to read and IQ.”
Works Cited
Letchford, Lois E. Reversed: A Memoir. Acorn Press. USA. 2018.
I hope you reported this back to his obviously inept, uncaring teachers in Australia ! Great job, Mom !
Thankfully, it was only the first grade teacher and that diagnostician who were so negative. Nicholas remained at that school and all other classroom teachers were fabulous. Thanks for commenting!
Wow… I am powerfully moved by you and your son’s story. Not because it is astonishing or unusual in my experience (anymore). Rather, because it is representative of the seed that I see within my own students and others. Sometimes I cannot even see the seed; I just sense it. And because this story is representative of the journeys of so many others with whom I have been fortunate to come into contact.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you Eric! I love your “Sometimes we cannot even see the seed; It is just a sense!” I currently reading the book Curiosity by Mario Livio. Livio talks about how curiosity impacts the brain, thus impacting working memory and memory in general. Tapping into Nicholas’ curiosity, changed his world.