“Discovery consists in seeing what everyone else has seen and thinking what no one else has thought.”

– Albert Szent-Gyorgyi

When I was a child and I would begin to express a strong opinion about something, my mother would always caution, “Remember, there are two sides to every story.”  That was good advice, but what my mother didn’t tell me was that there were infinite ways to look at things — and sometimes, if we are very fortunate, there are “aha!” moments when our eyes and minds are opened to a whole new view of an old idea.  When we open ourselves to limitless possibilities, we also open ourselves to discovery and growth.  What my mother only hinted at ultimately was taught to me by my own child.

This lesson is fresh in my awareness right now, because we are in the beginning of a new school year.  I was a very good student in my day.  I was attentive,  I took notes for later study, I did my homework, and on test days I came prepared to show what I had learned.  It was a simple formula for success; and when I became a mother, I shared the stories of my school success with my children and encouraged them to use what I had learned as a way to find their own path to learning.  My methods worked pretty well for my older children; but when my third son reached second grade, it was apparent that something simply was not clicking for him.  Testing was done, and the results were shared with us in a rather detailed report — our son was dyslexic.  He also had difficulty processing spoken language and producing written language.  I was stunned.  Someone was telling me that my beautiful little boy — the one who could solve mechanical problems more quickly than an adult — was different in a way that might keep him from learning the things he needed to be successful in his life.

As his mother, I knew that my son was full of potential.  No test results could convince me of anything less.  And so I began to read and learn everything I could possibly find that would help me find the way to unlock that potential and see it flourish.  No longer did I have a child who came home from school, took out his homework, finished it, and went outside to play.  Now our afternoons were filled with homework sessions with Mom as tutor.  I would read over the day’s work, present it to my son, and he would stare at me blankly.  You might have thought I was speaking Lithuanian for all the recognition that I saw in his eyes.  I would regroup and reframe and re-present in a second way.  Still the blank stare would be my only feedback.  I am not proud to say that my frustration brought thoughts to my mind like, “okay…let me put this a FIFTIETH way, you little….”  I am proud that I kept these thoughts to myself and never spoke them in my moment of helplessness.

There are two sides to every story.  That had taught me that if one way didn’t work, I should find the other one that would.  As I struggled for the tenth way to explain a concept and watched my son concentrate and try to grasp what I was saying, I realized that he was more patient than his mother.  I pushed away the view of my child as a disabled person and focused once again on the potential that was locked behind a door marked “disability,” just waiting for someone to find the key.  Through our many attempts and many tears — some his, and some mine — we found the strategies that allowed a very smart little boy to express all that he knew in ways that let others see him shine.  There were many “aha!” moments along the way, and I learned as we struggled that few successes were permanent.

I like to think that this experience has made both of us better people.  We have learned to accept ourselves and others as unique and valuable people.  We see the potential that lies behind whatever struggles others may face.  Dan is now the father of a sweet little girl with physical differences; and she could not ask for a more patient, more creative, more encouraging Dad.  I hope that he learned at least a little bit of that from me as we walked side by side into the unknown territory of dyslexia.   I am thankful for the lessons my son taught me about seeing the same things and thinking about them in a different way.  Through him, I have experienced the joy of discovery in a multi-dimensional way that cannot be found in the two-dimensional way I was taught to think.

There are two sides to every story — until you look at what everyone else has seen and then think what no one else has thought.