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Manchester, Ohio —
At the age of five, I struggled a great deal in kindergarten. I really could not do a lot of the work my classmates could do. I know coloring shouldn’t be that hard, right? Well, it went way beyond that. Nobody knew how much difficulty I was really having. I simply could not do what the teacher needed me to do.
Mrs. Ethel White, at Nolley Elementary School in Manchester, was my teacher. She has since remarried and her last name is now Stokes, but she is still Mrs. White to me. I may have been cute, but I was a handful. Letters didn’t look right. Duplicating a diamond or a square was pretty much impossible for me. I had no spatial sense and I really was unable to communicate verbally, very well.
Neurologists were brought in because of Mrs. White’s concerns. Testing was done and the doctors said that I had brain damage in some key areas of the brain. I had no depth perception, had serious comprehension and retention problems and my eyes did not converge (meaning my eyes simply would not work together). My left eye worked and my right eye worked, but instead of seeing one object, I would see two. If I saw a line I would draw next to it missing the line completely. If I went to grab something, I normally missed it. I often reversed what I was trying to draw or write and I had serious verbal communication problems.
Neurologists believed that my brain issues were irreversible and significant enough that they could hinder my ability to ever be where my peers were and they feared that I might not even graduate high school.
The doctors didn’t take one fact into account when they diagnosed me. I had a tremendous drive and determination. I did everything in my ability to understand the material at school. I worked double time learning to read and learning even how to button shirts, which I could not do on my own, until I was in the older grades.
I had to wear a patch on my left eye at home to help with the converging problem. My dad made me a balance beam for me to walk on every day to help with coordination and I had eye exercises that I had to do daily.
Since I did not understand a word I read, I would read into a tape recorder, listen to it and rewrite the material until I understood it. I studied for hours. I had a hard time retaining material, but I just worked and worked until I would remember. I should have gotten A’s for the amount of hours I put in, but I was happy that I was passing with C’s.
At the age of five, I struggled a great deal in kindergarten. I really could not do a lot of the work my classmates could do. I know coloring shouldn’t be that hard, right? Well, it went way beyond that. Nobody knew how much difficulty I was really having. I simply could not do what the teacher needed me to do.
Mrs. Ethel White, at Nolley Elementary School in Manchester, was my teacher. She has since remarried and her last name is now Stokes, but she is still Mrs. White to me. I may have been cute, but I was a handful. Letters didn’t look right. Duplicating a diamond or a square was pretty much impossible for me. I had no spatial sense and I really was unable to communicate verbally, very well.
Neurologists were brought in because of Mrs. White’s concerns. Testing was done and the doctors said that I had brain damage in some key areas of the brain. I had no depth perception, had serious comprehension and retention problems and my eyes did not converge (meaning my eyes simply would not work together). My left eye worked and my right eye worked, but instead of seeing one object, I would see two. If I saw a line I would draw next to it missing the line completely. If I went to grab something, I normally missed it. I often reversed what I was trying to draw or write and I had serious verbal communication problems.
Neurologists believed that my brain issues were irreversible and significant enough that they could hinder my ability to ever be where my peers were and they feared that I might not even graduate high school.
The doctors didn’t take one fact into account when they diagnosed me. I had a tremendous drive and determination. I did everything in my ability to understand the material at school. I worked double time learning to read and learning even how to button shirts, which I could not do on my own, until I was in the older grades.
I had to wear a patch on my left eye at home to help with the converging problem. My dad made me a balance beam for me to walk on every day to help with coordination and I had eye exercises that I had to do daily.
Since I did not understand a word I read, I would read into a tape recorder, listen to it and rewrite the material until I understood it. I studied for hours. I had a hard time retaining material, but I just worked and worked until I would remember. I should have gotten A’s for the amount of hours I put in, but I was happy that I was passing with C’s.
With all the hard work, my brain learned to compensate. My left eye had taught itself to turn off so I could see one object at a time.
Doctors said I would not be able to play baseball. I practiced until I was hitting home runs.
Verbal communication has always been difficult for me. I was always quiet and just found different ways to communicate. I learned as a small child, if I wanted someone to really understand what I was trying to convey, I wrote it on a piece of paper. Now, writing is what I do for a living. I have written a book, am working on two others, and write for newspapers, including The Suburbanite.
The neurologists did not believe I would go far educationally. I received my master’s degree in 2005, with an A average. My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Ethel (White) Stokes, came to my graduation party. She wrote me such a beautiful note telling me how proud she was of me.
She follows every article I write and tells me that I am a name she always looks for in The Suburbanite. She called me, recently, to tell me how much she loves my writing and to tell me she is proud of me. She sent a note to my editor, Tammy Proctor, and in that note she let her know she was Ann’s teacher and she is proud.
I am thankful for and appreciate Mrs. (White) Stokes for the difference she has made in my life. Not just the fact that she cared enough as a teacher to find the disabilities and made sure something was done about it, but she stayed proud and continued to encourage me. She did not drop out of the picture when I went into first grade. She has consistently stayed in my life and has let me know that she has been proud of my hard work and determination all these years.
Thanks Mrs. Stokes. I know you’re reading. This one’s for you.
