Your task is to read the first two pages of a chapter of a textbook. The letters move, simulating how someone with Dyslexia might see them. After you have completed reading the text, click start to take a timed quiz to test your understanding.
One hundred years ago, in
November 1896, a doctor in
Sussex, England, published
the first description of the learning disorder that would come to be known as
developmental dyslexia. “Percy F.,...
aged 14,... has always been a bright and
intelligent boy,” wrote W. Pringle Morgan in the British Medical Journal,
“quick at games, and in no way inferior
to others of his age. His great difficulty
has been—and is now—his inability to
learn to read.”
In that brief introduction, Morgan
captured the paradox that has intrigued
and frustrated scientists for a century
since: the profound and persistent difficulties some very bright people face in
learning to read. In 1996 as in 1896,
reading ability is taken as a proxy for
intelligence; most people assume that if
someone is smart, motivated and
schooled, he or she will learn to read.
But the experience of millions of dyslexics like Percy F. has shown that assumption to be false. In dyslexia, the seemingly invariant relation between intelligence and reading ability breaks down.
Early explanations of dyslexia, put
forth in the 1920s, held that defects in
the visual system were to blame for the
reversals of letters and words thought
to typify dyslexic reading. Eye training
was often prescribed to overcome these
alleged visual defects. Subsequent research has shown, however, that children with dyslexia are not unusually
prone to reversing letters or words and
that the cognitive deficit responsible for
the disorder is related to the language
system. In particular, dyslexia reflects a
deficiency in the processing of the distinctive linguistic units, called phonemes,
that make up all spoken and written
words. Current linguistic models of reading and dyslexia now provide an explanation of why some very intelligent people have trouble learning to read and
performing other language-related tasks.
In the course of our work, my colleagues and I at the Yale Center for the
Study of Learning and Attention have
evaluated hundreds of children and
scores of men and women for reading
disabilities. Many are students and faculty at our university’s undergraduate,
graduate and professional schools. One
of these, a medical student named Gregory, came to see us after undergoing a
series of problems in his first-year courses. He was quite discouraged.
Although he had been diagnosed as
dyslexic in grade school, Gregory had
also been placed in a program for gifted
students. His native intelligence, together with extensive support and tutoring,
had allowed him to graduate from high
school with honors and gain admission
to an Ivy League college. In college,Gregory had worked extremely hard
and eventually received offers from several
top medical schools. Now, however,
he was beginning to doubt his own
competence. He had no trouble comprehending
the intricate relations among
physiological systems or the complex
mechanisms of disease; indeed, he excelled
in those areas requiring reasoning
skills. More problematic for him
was the simple act of pronouncing long
words or novel terms (such as labels
used in anatomic descriptions); perhaps
his least well-developed skill was rote
memorization.
Both Gregory and his professors were
perplexed by the inconsistencies in his
performance. How could someone who
understood difficult concepts so well
have trouble with the smaller and simpler
details? Could Gregory’s dyslexia—
he was still a slow reader—account for
his inability to name body parts and tissue
types in the face of his excellent reasoning
skills?
It could, I explained. Gregory’s history
fit the clinical picture of dyslexia as it
has been traditionally defined: an unexpected
difficulty learning to read despite
intelligence, motivation and education.
Furthermore, I was able to reassure
Gregory that scientists now understand
the basic nature of dyslexia.
Over the past two decades, a coherent
model of dyslexia has emerged that is
based on phonological processing. The
phonological model is consistent both
with the clinical symptoms of dyslexia
and with what neuroscientists know
about brain organization and function.
Investigators from many laboratories,
including my colleagues and I at the Yale
Center, have had the opportunity to test
and refine this model through 10 years
of cognitive and, more recently, neurobiological
studies.
Mirror writing is a symptom of dyslexia.
In fact, backwards writing and reversals
of letters and words are common in the
early stages of writing development
among dyslexic and nondyslexic children
alike. Dyslexic children have problems
in naming letters but not in copying
letters.
Eye training is a treatment for dyslexia.
More than two decades of research
have shown that dyslexia reflects a linguistic
deficit. There is no evidence that
eye training alleviates the disorder.
More boys than girls are dyslexic.
Boys’ reading disabilities are indeed
identified more often than girls’, but
studies indicate that such identification
is biased. The actual prevalence of the
disorder is nearly identical in the two
sexes.
Dyslexia can be outgrown
Yearly monitoring of phonological skills
from first through 12th grade shows
that the disability persists into adulthood.
Even though many dyslexics
learn to read accurately, they continue
to read slowly and not automatically.
Smart people cannot be dyslexic.
Intelligence is in no way related to phonological
processing, as scores of brilliant
and accomplished dyslexics—
among them William Butler Yeats, Albert
Einstein, George Patton, John Irving,
Charles Schwab and Nicholas Negroponte—
attest.
The phonological model crystallizes
exactly what we mean by dyslexia:
an encapsulated deficit often surrounded
by significant strengths in reasoning,
problem solving, concept formation,
critical thinking and vocabulary. Indeed,
compensated dyslexics such as
Gregory may use the “big picture” of
theories, models and ideas to help them
remember specific details. It is true that
when details are not unified by associated
ideas or theoretical frameworks—
when, for example, Gregory must commit
to memory long lists of unfamiliar
names—dyslexics can be at a real disadvantage.
Even if Gregory succeeds in
memorizing such lists, he has trouble
producing the names on demand, as he
must when he is questioned on rounds
by an attending physician. The phonological
model predicts, and experimentation
has shown, that rote memorization
and rapid word retrieval are particularly
difficult for dyslexics.
Even when the individual knows the
information, needing to retrieve it rapidly
and present it orally often results in
calling up a related phoneme or incorrectly
ordering the retrieved phonemes.
Under such circumstances, dyslexics will
pepper their speech with many um’s, ah’s
and other hesitations. On the other hand,
when not pressured to provide instant
responses, the dyslexic can deliver an
excellent oral presentation. Similarly, in
reading, whereas nonimpaired readers
can decode words automatically, individuals
such as Gregory frequently need
to resort to the use of context to help
them identify specific words. This strategy
slows them further and is another
reason that the provision of extra time is
necessary if dyslexics are to show what
they actually know. Multiple-choice examinations,
too, by their lack of sufficient
context, as well as by their wording
and response format, excessively penalize
dyslexics.
But our experience at the Yale Center
suggests that many compensated dyslexics
have a distinct advantage over
nondyslexics in their ability to reason
and conceptualize and that the phonological
deficit masks what are often excellent
comprehension skills. Many
schools and universities now appreciate
the circumscribed nature of dyslexia
and offer to evaluate the achievement
of their dyslexic students with essays
and prepared oral presentations rather
than tests of rote memorization or multiple
choices. Just as researchers have
begun to understand the neural substrate
of dyslexia, educators are beginning
to recognize the practical implications
of the disorder. A century after W.
Pringle Morgan first described dyslexia
in Percy F., society may at last understand the paradox of the disorder.
Quoted from:
Shaywitz, Sally E. “Dyslexia.” Scientific American, vol. 275, no. 5, 1996, pp. 98–104. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24993452. Accessed 4 Nov. 2020.