A Lifeline for the Dyslexic

Written By Patricia Rouzer

The Friendship School’s fine new exterior walls are ringed with familiar names, among them Leonardo DaVinci, Albert Einstein, and John Lennon – all geniuses. And like the 57 students who attend classes in this special private school, all were dyslexic.

Dyslexia is a language-based learning disability that is not linked to a lack of intelligence or a desire to learn. People who have it have difficulty with a variety of language skills – particularly reading. They can also display a variety of symptoms, including:

¥ a noticeable difference between their ability and their actual achievement;
¥ a family history of learning difficulties;
¥ difficulties with spelling;
¥ confusion over left and right;
¥ writing letters or numbers backwards;
¥ difficulties with math;
¥ difficulties organizing themselves;
¥ difficulty following two or three-step instructions.

“People with dyslexia simply have brains that are wired differently from those of other people,” said Teresa Ankey, Ph.D., who is Friendship’s head of school and resident life force.

“The International Dyslexia Association estimates that as much as 25 percent of the population nationwide is dyslexic,” she said, adding that society pays a terrible toll for ignoring the educational needs of dyslexic people.

Many people with dyslexia remain functionally illiterate for their entire lives. Some become chronic underachievers, barely getting through school – and life. Others, smart but unable to perform in school, become frustrated and antisocial, sometimes turning to crime.

“America’s prisons are filled with dyslexics and people with other learning disabilities,” said Dr. Ankey. “In fact, some states determine how many prison cells they will need based on the 3rd grade reading score in their state. Research has shown a correlation between crime rates and reading levels.”

“People who are dyslexic are just as bright, just as motivated and can be just as successful as people who aren’t dyslexic,” she said. The difference is that dyslexic people learn differently – just as successfully – but differently, than people with so-called normal brains. Dr. Ankey should know. She is dyslexic. So are her two sons.

To say she has a passion for her mission is to grossly understate her commitment to teaching students with dyslexia and to teaching teachers how to help them.

Formerly a professor of sociology at Frederick’s Hood College, Dr. Ankey is The Friendship School’s administrative dynamo who does not let a little problem like dyslexia get in her way. She also clearly understands dyslexia’s impact on society when it goes unaddressed.

Friendship is one of a handful of schools in the area in which curriculum is specifically geared to teaching dyslexic children. But unlike the other schools, the Friendship School offers more than a sound education for dyslexic students. Through its Margaret Byrd Rawson Institute, the school also offers special training for teachers to teach dyslexic children.

The Friendship School was established nine years ago in the basement of a private home, by a family whose children were dyslexic. [Editor’s Note: The family wished to remain anonymous.]

Word spread about the success of the home schooling and neighbors with affected children joined to establish a co-op school. Soon Friendship School moved to a local church and from there to a small Eldersburg business complex.

In April of this year, students and faculty moved into a brand new building formally known as the Merritt Dyslexia Learning Center. Located at the end of Progress Way in Eldersburg, it was built by Leroy Merritt, one of the area’s biggest contractors and himself the father of a dyslexic child.

The building houses both the Margaret Byrd Rawson Institute and the Friendship School. Merritt donated $1 million toward the building and Friendship has launched a $4 million capital campaign to pay the remaining cost of its bright and spacious new facility.

At the heart of the school is its library, a spacious and comfortable area where children can relax and read. Outside the library door, facing the school’s front entrance hangs a “literacy bell.” Beside it is a plaque that reads, “Because you believe in us, we believe in ourselves.”

Each time a student finishes reading a book he or she is allowed to ring the bell–in recognition of their joy in reading and their hard-won language skills.

Surrounding the library are well-lit, intimate classrooms and tutoring rooms – as well as an art room, a gymnasium and a multi-purpose room. In that room, there’s a stage where kids who once were unable to participate in dramatic productions because they were unable to read a script, now proudly tread the boards.

Children who come to Friendship are often initially withdrawn and quiet, the result of being “different” from their non-dyslexic friends in the public school systems. Some have been bullied; others are severely frustrated by a bright mind that cannot seem to meet its intellectual potential.

Friendship School teachers use the Orton-Gillingham approach, a multidisciplinary, multi-sensory, phonics-based teaching method individually tailored to meet each student’s needs. But it is not all about hard work. Children at Friendship also enjoy art, drama and physical education as well.

Classes, which run from Grade 1 through Grade 8, often include less than a dozen students. In addition, every child receives individual tutoring each day from an Orton-Gillingham trained teacher.

Tuition for one year at Friendship is $21,000; however, Dr. Ankey is quick to point out that many students receive financial aid. And few parents of Friendship School scholars would argue that the life benefits of an education there far outweigh the monetary costs, Ankey said.

For the most part, when students graduate from Friendship, they return to public high schools, their learning skills well established. They consistently succeed academically and assimilate socially when mainstreamed in high school, Dr. Ankey said.

“Many of our students are on the honor rolls in their high schools. They go on to college,” she said. “They are outgoing and gifted leaders.”

No one really knows what causes dyslexia, although it is thought to have a hereditary component. In turn, dyslexia appears to afflict males and females equally.

Once unknown and undiagnosed, today dyslexia is gaining recognition.

“Dyslexia is actually very easy to test for,” said Dr. Ankey, adding that one of her dreams is to have pediatricians routinely screen their young patient for the disorder early so that these children can receive the right kind of instruction.

In the past, people with dyslexia often made their livings doing manual labor, jobs in which their inability to read and write well did not radically affect their work. In today’s technology-obsessed society, undiagnosed dyslexics have far fewer career choices.

But opportunities seem limitless for the students who attend the brand new Friendship School.

On the wall behind The Friendship School’s reception desk hangs an oil painting of a smiling elderly couple. It looks like a loving depiction of someone’s cherished grandparentsÉand in a way, it is. They are, quite literally, the grandparents of successful dyslexic education: Margaret Byrd Rawson and Roger Saunders, for whom the school’s institute is named. They were pioneers in the diagnosis and successful training of people with dyslexia.

Rawson lived in Frederick County. During her teaching tenure in the 1920s, she became interested in two young boys who could not read and developed teaching methods to meet their needs. A friend of Dr. Ankey’s, she started a cooperative school and remained a researcher and advocate for the dyslexic.

Saunders was a diagnostician who developed a test to screen for dyslexia. A long-time friend and colleague of Rawson, he died last year.

Friendship School welcomes children from Carroll, Howard, Montgomery and Baltimore counties. Surprisingly, its growth is slow, Dr. Ankey said. The pace is not slow as a result of a shortage of potential students, but from lack of Orton-Gillingham certified teachers.

Dr. Ankey is working aggressively to develop agreements with area public school systems to bring teachers to the Institute for training.

The Friendship School will eventually accommodate 100 students, the maximum it can handle while still maintaining the intensity of concern that is the basis of the school’s remarkable success.

“Our students benefit from working in a small learning community where they get a lot of individual attention,” said Dr. Ankey.

“We are really pleased to be in Carroll County. It is in many ways a very progressive and welcoming place,” she said. “We have wonderful relationships with the community and the public school system here. We couldn’t be in a better place.”

For more information about Friendship School, visit its web site: www.friendshipschool.org.

The Struggle to Read

When Jami Schwartz recalls her son’s first school years, her clear blue eyes cloud with tears.

Despite Jeremiah’s hard work and Jami’s dedicated support, nothing helped the handsome towheaded boy grasp lessons seemed to come easily to his classmates. His struggle was deja vu for Jami, who literally felt his excruciating pain.

“My sister was a straight ÔA’ student who got a full scholarship to college and became an oncology nurse. I worked hard in school, but I barely got by,” recalled Jami.

All through school Jami suffered her teachers’ comparisons to her bright, accomplished older sister. Only 18 months younger, Jami learned early that they expected the same level of academic achievement from her that her sister so easily attained.

Their expectations were unfulfilled.

Jami had nightmares about school. She clearly remembers her father’s gentle but painful suggestion as high school graduation neared that perhaps college wasn’t for her.

“I was so lost. I used to think, ÔWhy am I so stupid?” she said. Years later, when her gregarious, intelligent son began to tearfully ask the same question of himself, she was devastated.

Like Jami, Jeremiah is dyslexic. By the time he turned nine, his more precocious classmates were reading anything and everything they could get their hands on. Despite his hard work, Jeremiah couldn’t read so much as a traffic sign.

“When we would drive down the street, Jeremiah wouldn’t look upÉhe couldn’t read the stop sign. He was hurt and embarrassed,” she said.

Her son’s sunny demeanor turned dark as one unsuccessful school year turned into another. He begged Jami not to make him go to school. Jami knew she had to do something to help her son.

Acceding to his pleas, Jami began home schooling Jeremiah. But after two months it was clear to them both that he was doing no better at home than he did in the classroom. Embarrassed by his inability to learn, he was fast becoming a social recluse, playing alone inside the house to avoid his friends in their Montgomery County neighborhood.

His backpack sat by the front door, unused. Jeremiah’s very soul seemed to shrivel. Fearing for his emotional stability and the waste of his obvious intelligence, Jami turned to the Internet to find help; she found Friendship School.

As they drove from Montgomery County to Eldersburg for a trial visit to the school, Jeremiah renewed his pleas to Jami not to
make him go to school.

Arriving at the school’s former location in a dreary Eldersburg business park, they were both taken aback. “If you love me, you won’t make me go in there,” Jeremiah begged. Despite her misgivings, Jami was firm. “I thought to myself, ÔIf this doesn’t work, what am I going to do?”

Over the year and half that Jeremiah has attended Friendship School, he has blossomed. He is reading and writing – and loving it. Academically he is achieving at a level Jami could only have dreamed about.

“That first day, when he came out of the building he asked me if he could stay. For the first time in his life he loves school – he doesn’t fear it. He has found a place where he fits in.

“Jeremiah has confidence. He knows he can learn and he knows that he is not stupid,” Jami said, smiling. “He is just exploding. He is such a different child.”

Jami spends 20 hours each week on the road ferrying Jeremiah to and from Friendship School, and the $21,000 per year tuition undoubtedly makes a dent in the family budget. There is no doubt in her mind it is worth every sacrifice.

“Knowing the difference Friendship School has made in Jeremiah’s life, I’d happily pay twice the tuition and drive twice the distance,” she said, smiling. “My son loves school.”
– Patricia A. Rouzer