I never understood quite how ridiculous and impenetrable English can be until seeing it through the eyes of my son, who has dyslexia. He is proud of it, fascinated by it, and intrigued by what we call his special powers. He knows they allow him to see the world, and see through perplexing problems in novel ways, and that it puts him in an elite club with the likes of, among others, Einstein, Walt Disney, Thomas Edison. Yet reading is a challenge. And we are proud of him, and inspired by him for not shrinking from it. This blog is dedicated to him.
Its name and title entry came to me via our youngest son, who at four years old, asked me, "Daddy, are you an awful?" "An awful what" I asked. "Like Gaywee Gwinkow," he said (referring to my children's play, which he had once seen, and often heard me read). "Oh!" I said, "Yes. An author!" "That's what I said," he said.
I am no brain scientist or cognitive development specialist to know whether these silly rhymes and pictures actually do aid the spelling dismayed. I would be delighted to learn that they do. I am merely a writer playing with words in ways that deepen my respect and awe for all those for whom reading does not come easily, in a language rife with exceptions to its own rules, full of puzzles that shouldn't work, but for arbitrary reasons do.
In the comment section below, I welcome reactions, and suggestions of head-scratching homonyms you'd like me to try creating something with, in dedication to someone whose persistence in the face of our peculiar language is an inspiration to you.
Its name and title entry came to me via our youngest son, who at four years old, asked me, "Daddy, are you an awful?" "An awful what" I asked. "Like Gaywee Gwinkow," he said (referring to my children's play, which he had once seen, and often heard me read). "Oh!" I said, "Yes. An author!" "That's what I said," he said.
I am no brain scientist or cognitive development specialist to know whether these silly rhymes and pictures actually do aid the spelling dismayed. I would be delighted to learn that they do. I am merely a writer playing with words in ways that deepen my respect and awe for all those for whom reading does not come easily, in a language rife with exceptions to its own rules, full of puzzles that shouldn't work, but for arbitrary reasons do.
In the comment section below, I welcome reactions, and suggestions of head-scratching homonyms you'd like me to try creating something with, in dedication to someone whose persistence in the face of our peculiar language is an inspiration to you.
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