Having a Learning Disability and Being a Science Major

The idea of succeeding in college was daunting for me. I was unsure how I would handle the rigor of the classes, foster my independence from my family, and make new connections in an unfamiliar place. These uncertainties were exacerbated by the fact that I would be battling an invisible force that I had kept under wraps for the entirety of my life: my learning disability. 

I was diagnosed with dyslexia in third grade as a result of my parents and teachers voicing concerns over my stagnation and reluctance to engage with my schoolwork. I wholeheartedly abhorred school and traditional learning. Reading, writing, and especially spelling were daily struggles for me, and I resigned myself to disengage with class because succeeding took double the effort as compared to what it took for my peers. I loathed the extra help I was eventually contracted to receive in my 504 plan, a legal document that stipulated the accommodations I was granted in the classroom, because I feared that it highlighted me as being different. Throughout middle school, my intense preoccupation with being outed as less intelligent or different ignited a fire within myself to engage with my class material and I begin to understand how I processed new information. This was new territory for me. 

In high school I came into my stride and started to figure out how to cope with my learning disability. I typed everything out on the computer prior to writing anything out by hand (and this is something I still do!), watched videos on topics instead of reading about them, and realized that I had a wickedly accurate memory of spoken facts and statements, especially if they were in song format. I was able to find solace in my science classes because most students spelled science-related words wrong, and it focused on many visual representations of material, not lengthy passages to read.

But I still didn’t want anyone to know or even suspect that there was something different about me. When I began to apply to colleges with the intent of being a biology major, my fears of inadequacy began to creep up on me yet again. I surmised that real scientists were the innovators of the world and that their intelligence was unencumbered by learning difficulties. They probably spelled everything right all the time too. How would I fit into this analytical, academic community? 

When entering college, I knew that this could be a new opportunity to redefine the way I presented myself because the new people I met would have no clue that I had a learning disability. During my first semester in college, it was not public knowledge that I had dyslexia. I studied for my science classes with my newfound friends but would still send all of my English papers to my mom to check for grammatical and spelling errors.

It wasn’t until I started working as a Supplemental Instruction Leader (SIL) my second semester in college that I was confronted with a crossroads. I had unintentionally spelled a word wrong on the whiteboard for all of my students to read, and in that moment, I decided that I would be candid with my students instead of unnecessarily embarrassed. I briefly explained that I had dyslexia and instances such as this happened to me daily. From that moment on instead of cowering behind this label I used to resent, I decided that I would openly joke and be honest about this invisible yet omnipresent aspect of myself. 

I have since grown to understand that my intelligence is not defined by my ability to spell, read, and write without error. The real world offers accommodations and aids that help me progress academically without being penalized or labeled as unintelligent. I have come to realize that life isn’t so black and white. In college, I was able to redefine my view of myself and understand that I could thrive in my classes if I was willing to put the work in towards succeeding and utilize resources and aids that leveled the playing field.

Although my elementary school self would have traded anything to rid myself of dyslexia, I am wholeheartedly grateful for it now. The tenacity, humility, and wherewithal that dyslexia has taught me are some of the catalysts that have molded me into the person I am today. Now that I candidly disclose my learning disorder to others, I have come to realize that many people are invisibly struggling with something that can not be identified on the outside. Our strengths as people in this world are uniquely different. How boring would it be if we were all the same?! Embrace the differences that make you you,and don’t let labels influence your perception of yourself or how much you can succeed!