I was born, fortunately, in a non-diagnosing time in terms of assessment
of children. Specifically, during my school years, my teachers, parents and
administrators told us (or made it understood) what we good at and what we were
not good at. These skill areas were academic, such as reading or math, motoric,
such as skill in certain sports, and social, such as the ability to sit
attentively in class or interact with our peers. I don’t believe that there
were any pupils in my elementary school that thought they believed they were
great, poor or average in everything. We
were like characters from a role-play game: strength in one aspect was at the
price of weakness in another.
Yet, with all these assessments, I cannot recall that we ever told that
we had any specific syndrome. This is probably due to the lack of awareness of
such matters as well as lack of available professionals available to make such
formal diagnoses. In some ways, we were as imperfect as the adults around us,
which was perfectly normal. The positive aspect of this medical ignorance was
that we were never told what could not do in the future. It was understood that
children develop at different paces in different areas. In other words, on a
skill percentile basis, the results of 6th grade could be very
different than those of 2nd grade. Unless parents made some special
effort, the improvement was completely organic and often painful, without
outside assistance.
To give an example, from my early report cards, comments from parents
and my memories, during elementary school, I was a serious, painfully shy
student with a quick grasp of material and a cooperative attitude, a nerd if
you wish. My weaknesses included poor handwriting, difficulty in learning how
to read (remedied by around 3rd grade), poor hand-eye and motoric coordination
and over sensitiveness. For the purposes of the record, some 50+ years later, I
am an experienced teacher with a strong presence in the classroom, a translator
and editor. I play tennis and folk dance and married (twice actually), as well
as raised a child to adulthood. So, one way or another, I have overcome all
those weaknesses and created a complete life.
The fact that I never knew that I had (and have) two diagnosable
conditions meant that I constructed no psychological barriers to my success.
The cognitive barriers still exist; certain tasks are more difficult for me
than for others, meaning I have to take more time or find different ways to
accomplish them. That statement is true for all people of all ages and thus has
no proscriptive importance. My refusal to state those conditions is precisely
due to the fact that I do not want to have my capabilities labeled on the basis
of a term. Instead, I want to be judged on what I actually do.
The implication for parents, educators, leaders and, most importantly,
individuals of all ages, whether in schools or businesses, is that formal
diagnoses, even when correct, are not predictors of current or future ability. Persons
with dyslexia have become outstanding CEOs, albeit with a different style. A
person with OCD can be a highly effective manager in all aspects.
Perfectionists can evolve into ideal problem solvers. In the bottom line, individual
choice, skill sets and circumstances determine the basis for personal success
at any time, not medical labels. Ignorance can be bliss.
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