My dyslexia diagnosis changed the way I teach

I was doing my PhD when I found out that I was dyslexic.

By that stage, I had already spent many years in education, but the diagnosis suddenly helped me understand why I had found certain things more difficult than other people seemed to. It did not mean I wasn’t capable – I was completing a PhD after all – but it helped me understand that I learned and processed information differently.

That experience has stayed with me throughout my teaching career.

Perhaps because of it, when I see a learner struggling, I tend to look a little deeper. Instead of immediately thinking they are not working hard enough or are not capable, I want to know: what is getting in the way?

There can be many answers.

A learner may have dyslexia, ADHD, autism or another additional learning need. They may have low confidence, difficulties with literacy, English as an additional language, or things happening outside college that we know very little about.

Working within a trauma-informed approach has made me particularly aware that learners do not simply leave their life experiences at the door when they enter our classrooms.

Sometimes we see the result rather than the reason.

We see poor attendance, missed assignments or a learner who has stopped engaging. But what is happening underneath?

Teachers are not there to diagnose. However, because we spend so much time with our students, we are often well placed to notice when something does not seem quite right.

As a science teacher, I might speak to a learner who can explain a difficult scientific concept perfectly well, yet their written work shows little of that understanding.

That difference should make us curious.

Teachers, however, need support too. We already plan, teach, assess, monitor attendance and progress, manage behaviour and respond to very different learners.

We cannot keep adding responsibilities without providing appropriate training and practical tools.

Teachers do not need to become SEND specialists. But we can be better equipped to ask simple questions when someone is struggling.

What have I noticed? When does the difficulty occur? Is there a pattern? What have I already tried? What does the learner say? Who else could help?

That is not diagnosis. It is simply taking the time to understand the learner.

And once a concern is raised, there must be an effective system behind the teacher. Supporting learners requires teachers, learning-support teams, SEND specialists, curriculum staff and learners themselves to work together.

I also think we sometimes concentrate so much on qualifications that we forget about the whole person.

Sport has become an important part of my own life, and it has changed how I think about education. As a competitive women’s cricket player and a qualified cricket coach, I have seen how sport can build confidence, resilience, teamwork and a sense of belonging. I would love to see more opportunities for all learners, including science learners, to experience sport and physical activity.

A learner struggling academically may discover confidence somewhere completely different. Sometimes helping a learner does not mean giving them another worksheet. It may mean helping them discover something that makes them believe in themselves again.

Too often, we intervene after things have already gone wrong: assessments have been failed, attendance has fallen or the learner has disengaged.

I know from my own journey that a learning difference does not determine someone’s potential. Being dyslexic did not stop me completing my PhD. Understanding my dyslexia helped me understand myself, and it has helped shape the teacher I became.

So when a learner is struggling, perhaps our first question should not be:

“Why aren’t they achieving?”

Maybe it should simply be:

“What is getting in the way – and what can we do to help?”