I often found myself questioning my parenting choices. It’s a common response when you have a gifted child. If Oliver can read well above his grade level, I thought, perhaps I didn’t emphasize handwriting enough. It struck me one day, with a pang of dread, that my 7-year-old didn’t know his lowercase letters. His writing was awkward and cramped, and his spelling was nearly impossible to decipher—“Kaoak” for “cook,” and “lvoe” for “love.” He couldn’t even spell his last name!
We tackled the issue head-on. Out of everything we covered in our homeschooling, writing was the only topic that made Oliver grumble. He would sit at his desk, lined paper before him, struggling to craft three simple sentences about topics we had discussed. I tried to connect these topics to our social studies or reading lessons, brainstorming ideas together. Yet, each time, it felt like pulling teeth. The moment he picked up a pen, his understanding of phonics seemed to vanish. Just yesterday, “avocado maki rolls” turned into “moce rars”—from a boy who could easily read “the department of education.”
As I looked over his work—jumbled spacing, inventive spelling, a mix of upper- and lower-case letters—I began to wonder if there was something more to it. After some research, I stumbled upon the terms dysgraphia and possibly dyslexia. A diagnosis could explain the gap between Oliver’s reading and writing skills and provide us with strategies to assist him.
However, a diagnosis would also label my gifted son as learning disabled (LD). Oliver is what’s referred to as “twice-exceptional,” a gifted child with a learning difference. I had already felt the weight of sadness and concern when we discovered he shared the ADHD traits that my partner and I both have. I understand the struggles—attention difficulties, social challenges, hyper-focusing, and decision paralysis. I also witness how my partner deals with his learning disability, dyscalculia, which is essentially dyslexia for numbers. He still sometimes counts on his fingers and has trouble estimating time or distance. Thankfully, technology helps us keep our finances in check.
I worry deeply about what this diagnosis might mean for Oliver’s future. While I know we can help him develop writing strategies, it pains me to think he may never find joy in it. The act of translating thoughts onto paper could become a chore rather than a delight. Despite all the strategies and assistance, he might continue to struggle. As a parent, it’s heart-wrenching to see your child face challenges.
We’ve begun to discuss his differences with him. At his homeschool co-op, he compares his writing with that of his peers and recognizes how easily they produce text. We explain that his brain functions differently—he’s already familiar with this concept due to his ADHD. I tell him that, because of this difference, writing is more challenging for him than it is for others.
“Maybe I just need to try harder, Mama,” he sometimes suggests, and it shatters my heart because trying harder simply won’t suffice.
“You can’t just try harder,” I explain. “You need to try differently. That’s why we’re getting an evaluation, so we can learn how to help you find a different approach.”
He huffs in frustration, anxious about the upcoming evaluation. He has started compensating by asking me how to spell every single word, yet he still comes up with “rars” for “rolls.” The words he believes he understands often turn out misspelled, like “lvoe” for “love” and “fa” for “the.” Now that I’ve recognized the issues, they loom large, making me feel sad as I watch him struggle over his assignments. I don’t fully understand what’s wrong, which adds to my frustration—and I know he feels it even more.
Fortunately, the other kids around him haven’t seemed to notice his writing difficulties yet, and if they have, they’ve kept quiet. The homeschooling community tends to be understanding of individual learning paces, which I find reassuring.
So, we wait anxiously for a diagnosis. We need that label. It will allow Oliver to say, “I have dysgraphia,” if someone comments on his handwriting or if another child makes a joke. It will provide us with the tools and resources we need to assist him. With any luck, it will guide me in teaching him to enjoy writing—even if his handwriting isn’t perfect.
We’ll navigate this journey together. We’ll discover how to support him, and he’ll learn to adapt. He’s a resilient kid. It might not be an easy path, but we’re committed to walking it together.
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Summary
The journey of parenting a twice-exceptional child is filled with challenges, especially when it comes to understanding and addressing learning differences. As we navigate the complexities of giftedness alongside learning disabilities, we strive to find strategies that help our children thrive while embracing their unique paths.
Keyphrase: twice-exceptional gifted learning disabilities
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