An unlikely success-Part 2

I had to laugh at the irony. Who woulda thought?

Who would have thought that despite holding degrees ranging from Associate, to Master of Science from three different Universities, I would still have trouble reading? Well, I do. I am even working on a Ph.D., I am an officer in the United States Navy, and I coach college football at one of the most prestigious private universities in the country, but I still have difficulty reading from time to time.

My dyslexia wasn't formally recognized by anyone until after I enlisted in the Navy. I was glad to learn there was an explanation other than stupidity for the many failures I had experienced up to that point in life. Most of my teachers all the way through school believed I was lazy because I was clearly a bright kid; I was well spoken, and I could solve complex problems as if they were the type that allowed me to think in pictures. Unfortunately, dyslexia just wasn't understood well like it is today.

Many people think--like my teachers did back then--that dyslexia means you "can't read". That is simply not true. I am actually quite a good reader--I always have been, but sometimes, when I read I don't always see the same stuff that you might see. This problem varies in difficulty. Things like lack of sleep, stress, and other factors can make dyslexia a terrible affliction, but when I am rested, I can go days or weeks without problems. The inconsistent nature of this problem pre-disposed my teachers to think that I simply didn't apply myself as consistently as I could have.


When my dyslexia acts up, letters tend to move around (or at times, they even disappear) a word like "United" can become "Untied". Like most dyslexics, I tend to think in pictures, and now understand that when you read something that "doesn't make sense", you mind strives to "make sense of it". For instance, very recently, I read a billboard that read "Blue Bonnet Migraine". Immediately, my mind began to make sense of what I had seen. "It must be a type of headache, that covers the head, like a bonnet." I thought. I read the billboard again--this time, reading that last-word-first. Only THEN did I see that it was an ad for margarine (fake butter). Now you see how changing the order of letters, or just one word in a sentence has the potential to change the meaning of an entire body of written work?

Later, when your mistakes are pointed out, you see them easily, and wonder how you missed it in the first place. Then of course, people tell you “pay attention”, or “try harder”, “don’t be so lazy”.

Imagine the frustration and self-doubt that mounts over a lifetime of failures like this, and the effect that these failures can have on self-confidence. Because reading became so frustrating for me, I developed an aversion to it, and began to believe that because I wasn't able to to understand the simple things like everyone else, I was dumb--or maybe I was mentally ill. I seemed to need help all the time, but the "help" never really helped, so I just quit asking for it. The only thing asking for help ever did for me was single me out.

When I got to freshman year in high school, I joined an organization called the U.S. Naval Sea Cadet Corps. It was sort of a Navy-oriented version of the boy scouts, and I LOVED it. The Sea Cadets allowed me to ply my talents for verbal communicating, leadership and humor. The sea cadets differed from regular school, in that there weren’t a lot of written instructions—everything was taught through demonstration. This was exactly how I learn best.

Finally, at 14 years old, I began to believe that I could be excellent at something. I gained a reputation for being an excellent leader in my unit. I was told by more than one Naval Officer I had excellent leadership and communication skills, and that I might make an outstanding Naval Officer someday.

This one officer in particular encouraged me a lot. I was not used to positive feedback, but I liked it. I had previously given up on the idea of going to college, but this officer kept talking to me about it, and made me want to try to qualify for college admission.

That fall my family moved to a small town in Wisconsin—technically for us, it was “going home”, but since I grew up in Navy towns where ever my father had been stationed, I had never been to a place like Wisconsin. I certainly did not feel at home--in addition to my educational challenges, I was now at a cultural disadvantage on top of that. These people were more sheltered and naive than anyone I have ever met, before or since. I now understand that I was a bit unusual--you dont' meet many fifteen year olds who've lived in 11 different places, and known people from all over the world. Up till we moved to Wisconsin, everyone I had ever met was just like me: Their parents were in the miltiary, and many had lived in very exotic places. Now in Wisconsin, I was the exotic one (if you believed me). If my story was just too much to wrap your mind around (and for many it was) I was a liar. I distinctly remember someone asking me what my father did for a living--when I told them he was in the Navy, I was accused of making up tall tales, and the hypothesis that I didn't even have a father suddenly became far more believeable to this collection of rube insiders.

Needless to say, it didn't take long to get lonely there, so I looked forward to leaving that town almost as soon as I got there. I believed that I would be leaving soon after graduation to go to college--the Naval Academy to be exact--so I convinced myself that I didn't care about having friends and began to pour myself into my school work.

When the first semester report cards came out in January of that year, I was proud to have made the honor role for the first time in my life. I finally felt like a first-class citizen in school, and thus, I felt like I had a reason to visit my guidance counselor. I made an appointment, and rehearsed what I would say until the day finally arrived. When my appointment began, I wasted no time--I told my advisor about my plan to go to the Naval Academy upon graduation. I asked him to help me get ready academically, and when the time came, to help me apply.

I knew right away something was wrong.

He sank into his chair, and for a second or two--he chuckled--he laughed and he shook his head. It was like he didn't know how to break some kind of bad news--something he couldn't believe I didn't already know.

As he began to speak, he was blunt, but kind. I began to understand that I was not going to the Naval Academy and I probably wasn't going to college at all. According to him, it was too late. I was enrolled in what he called a "practical learning program". He explained that college-bound students were taking Algebra or Trigonometry. I was in "Math for every day living" where we learned to plan a budget, and how to write checks.

My English credits came in classes like "Public speaking", and in my Science text book was not Physics, Biology, or Chemistry--mine had chapters like "the health effects of smoking". This was everyday stuff, designed to get you through school, but it was certainly not college preparatory work.

Now I understood:

Suddenly the improvement in my grades wasn't such a big deal.

Suddenly I wondered if that officer who talked about me getting into Annapolis was just mocking me.

Suddenly I felt like a clown dressed in that shirt and tie--that until this day--I had only worn to church.

I know he thought he was being responsible, but he almost broke me when he said, "Listen: forget about college, learn a trade, and join the work force—if you had applied yourself earlier, we might be having a different conversation".

I was humiliated. My face flushed bright red. I could feel my ears burning red-hot with embarrassment. I felt like a fool. All the preparation and rehearsing I had done for this meeting was pointless. I had to get out of there.

What do you do after someone tells you that? I'll tell you what you do:

You forget about college.
You give up on your dreams
You forget about your passions, and
You settle.

At least for a while--I'll explain next time. Thanks for reading.