Ella Folsom
Photography by Greer Diaz
If you’re reading this, you are brilliant.
Growing up, I always felt like the dumbest in the room. I couldn’t read as quickly as other kids, I couldn’t do math as well, and I had trouble understanding what I was learning in class. I always had good grades, so I knew it wasn’t a lack of effort, but I found myself spending 10x longer on every school assignment I completed, leaving me exhausted and defeated constantly. I found love in sports, excelling on the soccer field and dominating in track and field, and art and writing allowed me toc creatively express myself, all of which helped me gain confidence and feel like I was good at something. But academically, I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, and automatically assumed I was just born stupid.
When I went to middle school and was thrown into the rigorous Bay Area private school system, I felt even worse. My peers excelled, while I sat staring at blank exams wondering how kids were already finished. The feeling destroyed me, leaving me crying over homework and becoming a concern to my parents. My mom finally decided to take me to a learning specialist in 8th grade, something that at first made me feel like I had some sort of incurable problem. I spent days in a led lit room while an old woman fired factual questions at me, made me identify shapepatterns, and had me play with blocks. I felt like a science experiment, or a kid in a play pen. She sent me home with a diagnosis of dyslexia, but nothing more.
I went to high school in worse shape, understanding now what was wrong with me but never knowing how to fix it. Junior year I went to a new learning specialist, as SATs were coming up and my parents grew concerned of my ability to get into college, knowing how terrible of a test taker I was. I spent much of this round of learning testing on the verge of tears, getting flashbacks to the first time when I was only 13. However, after hours of analyzing my brain, I was told that not only did I have dyslexia, but I had an auditory processing disorder and a deficiency in my rote memory (remembering facts without context). The specialist told me I had an above average IQ, I just needed the resources to show it. Because of this, I received 50% extra time on every exam, and I learned how I could use visual and tactile learning to help me understand concepts. I killed my ACTs and got into an amazing college.
I think the moral of my story is that being different doesn’t mean you are damaged. It doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you or that you can’t succeed like everyone else. If you find things that give you confidence, never give up, fight for yourself in every aspect, and surround yourself with a support system, you have every right and ability to excel like your peers. I was lucky to have all of those things, and very fortunate to be able to receive my diagnosis. I hope that if you are reading this, you know you are not alone, you are brilliant, you can do anything you put your mind to, and I believe in you.
Ella F., University of Wisconsin
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