Weakness to strength
As you are aware, I lived in Argentina for a few years when I was much younger. During that time, I lived with other people from North America, as well as various roommates from Argentina and the surrounding company. At one point, I ended up living with someone who had just arrived in the country and was realizing that his high school Spanish class had left him woefully underprepared to communicate effectively in a foreign language. I often explained to him that most of us had the same experience, and that the only way out was through. The solution was not shutting up, but talking more, understanding that most people are kind and patient, and that with some time and practice he too would be able to communicate quite effectively.
After a few weeks his patience wore thin and he worked himself into a bit of a tizzy, upset that “he would never be able to communicate effectively” and “this was pointless.” I cannot recall my exact words back, but I will summarize them briefly. I said something along the lines of, “Listen up, if you want sympathy because after a few weeks of minimal effort you cannot speak fluently in a foreign language, go find it somewhere else. I spent the first 12 years of my life being unable to communicate in my native language, so suck it up, stop whining and get over yourself. Lots of people have dealt with actual problems in life, this isn’t one of them” In hindsight, I probably could have been a bit more supportive, but he struck a nerve.
If you just read that and wondered what I was talking about, grab a quick seat. Most children with speech issues begin speech therapy around second or third grade, because there is a chance they will just naturally outgrow them. That was not the case for me. I began speech therapy in kindergarten and continued on through eighth grade. Three times a week I was pulled from my normal class to chew 2-3 pieces of Dubblebubble at a time, suck applesauce and chocolate pudding through coffee stirrers, and do oral “pushups” against tongue depressors. If those days happened to fall on a day with a substitute, I had to write a note explaining where I was going, or count on one of a very few friends to explain, because there was less than zero chance that a substitute teacher was going to understand my garbled mess of an explanation.
The letters and sounds that I could not pronounce included the following: C, CH, G, J, K, L, R, S, SH, T, TH, and Z. Unfortunately, as you may notice, my name includes about a third of those sounds. Life was fun when I was in elementary school.
By the end of elementary school and into middle school, I was able to be understood by more than my parents, brothers and closest friends (who truly had to have been saints to be friends with the kid who couldn’t talk). In eighth grade they “graduated” me from speech therapy, telling me it was no longer a muscle issue, instead I needed to think before I speak and do it slowly. Clearly that did not take, however I did manage to not botch my letters after further practice. To the point that one of the more embarrassing moments of my time in high school was when my Mother decided to show old videos of me as a kid to my high school sweetheart, she was blown away by what she heard. Grandma had to translate what I said, and they were both crying from laughing so hard. I believe my Mom was worried I was getting a bit full of myself, and she definitely managed to minimize that.
Reading the above, it may sound awful, annoying, or embarrassing, or any other of things. I doubt it reads like the one of the greatest things to have ever happened to me, but it is, in fact, way up there.
Because I was unable to communicate well as a child, I was not called on in class to read out loud, or answer questions, or any other number of things. Instead, I sat quietly with a book hidden on my lap under my desk, reading quietly. Other times, I just kept rereading whatever book the class was reading very slowly out loud. I believe I read The Island of the Blue Dolphins at least 6 or 8 times while my class read it and discussed it. On occasion, I would get caught and told off, but it never seemed sincere. These classes were bookended by periods before school, between classes, or waiting to be picked up, with me sitting against the wall, continuing to read.
I do not recall when I discovered chapter books, but by fourth grade I was reading Jurassic Park, Congo, and other books most nine-year-old were unable to read. When the monthly book order came out, I would get the new Animorphs and Boxcar Children, but those were only good for about 30 minutes of reading. When the sixth Harry Potter came out, we were going on a twelve-hour road trip. The book came out at midnight the night before, and your Uncle and I were already arguing over who got the book for the car. We left at 6:00am, and by that time, there was no argument, the book was done, your Uncle was reading, and I napped after staying up all night.
The ability to read quickly, and actually comprehend what I am reading, enabled serious slacking during my undergraduate studies. Now that I am back in school, although with serious time constraints due to work and children, I am generally able to get the reading done quickly, without having to revisit everything multiple times. The math slows me down, but not the reading. That cuts out hours a week from my expected study time.
On top of this, it created in me a love of books. The ability to place yourself in someone else’s shoes, or travel the world, or learn from the greatest minds of many generations, all from the comfort of your couch, bed or a train, is a marvel that has brought much joy, knowledge and relaxation into my life.
Beyond reading, the experience has given me an appreciation for clear, straightforward communication, and removed most to all sense of embarrassment at the idea of saying something that may be unconventional, out there, unique, or out of vogue. It is hard to feel silly saying something and having people disagree or seem unsure of how to respond to the content. THEY UNDERSTOOD THE CONTENT!! That was wholly foreign to me for the first decade of my life. You may think I am crazy for what I said, but I said it, and you understood it, and that beats communicating like a cave man utilizing grunts and gesticulations.
I also suspect, though I cannot prove, that the experience gave me a patience for people who are different, or struggling, that would most likely not have come naturally to me, given my propensity to overconfidence and my general lack of patience towards the world. I do not tolerate arrogant people who are idiots due to desire to learn or willingness to think well. I do tend have quite a soft spot for the awkward child or teenager, the one with a stutter, or those who just lack a certain social grace or skill. My situation eventually led to overconfidence and bravado in me in a teenager, but even then, I recognized a fellow struggler, and was careful to go out of my way to welcome those that did not easily make friends or fit in. My close circle of friends was always gracious enough to welcome them as well, and I would be willing to bet that at least a few people suffered less through the rough period known as high school because of my friends’ willingness to do so.
I promise you, as a child, if you had told me that my experience would be one of the best learning opportunities of my life, and something I would grow to appreciate and cherish, I would have, well, not told you that you were an idiot, but my eyes would have communicated that idea quite effectively. Only in hindsight am I fully able to recognize the blessing that it was.
As you grow, you will have struggles. Fortunately, so far, the ability to speak has not been one of them. At least one of you likes to throw your hands up in frustration and determine that “You just can’t.” You can; you just do not like to, and it is frustrating. I get that, but it is worth the time and effort. The extra attention and practice to overcome struggles and weaknesses has the power to convert what you think are negatives into almost super human strengths (looking at you, Knees Over Toes Guy). It definitely will not feel this way in the moment, but our perspective in the moment of difficulty is more akin to the fog of war than any clear-sighted assessment, and, as they say, hindsight is 20/20.
Practice, endure, overcome, and then thrive. Do not feel as if you are less valuable or unable to contribute. Appreciate that you get a hand dealt, and it may be a 2 7 off suit, but that the flop can change everything.
Love,
Dad