Penny

I was born and brought up in Aberdeen. When I started school no one knew that I was dyslexic. I can remember my first spelling book. I was OK at the three letter words but it got harder as we moved on to four and when it got to five it was difficult if not impossible. Today I write this with the aid of a ‘spellmaster’ and computer spell-check. Life has moved on but my spelling has not. I have learned to cope with help from my very sympathetic husband and help from the Dyslexia Association Adult Group run by Jan .

School days were not happy ones and I remember in primary class being put under the teacher’s table and smacked with a ruler because I could not spell. In secondary school I was a very quiet person, not drawing attention to myself, but I had to sit right in front of the teacher as she thought I was a daydreamer. I did dream. I asked myself all the time "Why me?" "Why can’t I get it or do it?"

My parents made me do copying of italic writing, as if that would help, but to me it was a nightmare. I hated writing thank-you letters, my handwriting was so bad and it took me so long to do it. Even at twelve years old writing a postcard was a nightmare. No one could read it anyway. I left school and did a one-year course at the College of Commerce – Retail and Distribution. For me it was a skive. It was just like school. I got a certificate and I was amazed. My first job was in the Co-op chemist. I could not even count the money and when decimalisation came in I found it very hard to cope. I stayed there seven weeks and left. My mother had written a job application for me: her writing was beautiful and I got the job – as a dental chairside receptionist. I stayed two years and left. My mother went berserk because I got myself a job as a cook and this was way beneath her station. I was under pressure.

I moved around and got a very well paid job in a factory as a canteen assistant. I had to work shifts but the pay was fantastic. I left home at seventeen and did not go back. In this job I was bullied by the two girls I worked with, but I would put up with any thing for the money. I did not need to write.

I got a step up and became a shift cook. You had to fill in a record book at the end of each shift and the girls teased me unmercifully. The factory closed down, but during this time I had met and married my husband. We both had to look for new jobs; we had been there fourteen years – it was a huge shock to the brain. I continued to work as a cook, in various places, for very poor money. Every time I changed jobs it was the same problem – it took me quite some time to learn a new routine and the first two or three weeks would be awful for me.

Four years on, a friend told me that the company she worked for was planning to open a new shop. I applied for, and landed a new job – not in cooking. I was running a retail outlet for an agricultural company. For the first few weeks I was put to the main store to learn how the place worked. In this department you had to write down each customer’s name and address. I about died; it was horrendous. I wished I was dead – people watching you writing; my nerves were shattered. It was hard, but I stubbornly would not give up. When I moved into the new shop we did not need to go through this procedure, thank goodness.

I had to go on an initial training course at Bishop Burton Agricultural College in York. I was now thirty-eight years old. With the support of friends and my husband I managed to get through the first week of the course, but I had to get help.I got in touch with the Dyslexia Association – and went to Glasgow to be assessed. This cost me £100. I got my father to drive me there. It was just so amazing to meet someone who seemed to know what I would do before I did it, and why.

I was astounded. This lady told me about coping strategies. This was a very big turning point in my life. I went back to Bishop Burton College six months later and told them I was dyslexic. They added on extra time for my exam and I was allowed to take my own made-up dictionary into the exam room with me.

Well, I passed the exam and could not believe it. I had failed for so long, it took me three months to accept success. Six years later the shop was closed and I went back to cooking. The money was poor but I could hide there (no writing again). I was paid off and found another job in a dreadful kitchen. My father had died by this time and I was in the position of being able to take on the real challenge of training for a new profession.

I had gone to a chiropodist to have my feet attended to, and I though that this was something that I would like to do. I applied, and was accepted on the course. The learning was by open modules sent to me one at a time. This was different. You had to keep yourself motivated; it was OK in the winter but in the summer it was very hard to study. After two years, I got to the end and it was nearing time to go for the exam, but I found I could not recall all the knowledge.

I asked Jan for help and after trying a mind mapping method by Tony Buzan, things began to happen. I sat the exams and passed. I had to go back and do two weeks hands-on, then more exams, which I also passed. I was amazed.
It took time for this success to sink in; I was a qualified chiropodist. It was a bit frightening. I made a start with my own business and my husband had to come on the business course to learn how to do the books. Without him it would not have happened. I have been working for three years now and it can still be frightening. I have only just recently learned how to work the computer – through Jan again. It opens more doors for me but I am still a novice at it. When I have to write to doctors it scares me rigid. My husband helps a lot with the spelling and grammar.

My life has changed so much. I am my own boss. I work my own hours and I get very well paid for it and I know it will get better. After thirty-eight years of working for rubbish money I can see a future, but I still regret the time I have lost. You can’t get it back. You have to look forward if you want to have a satisfying life.

 

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