As I look back on my thirty years of teaching writing to young minds, I can't help but smile at life's wonderful irony. You see, I was once the student who dreaded writing more than anything else. Dyslexia made every written word a challenge, every spelling test a source of anxiety. Letters would dance and jumble on the page, making 'because' look like 'becuase' and 'their' forever confused with 'thier.' Who would have thought that I'd spend three decades helping children find their voice through writing?

Understanding the Struggle from Both Sides

When I started teaching in 1989, I had a secret weapon that many of my colleagues didn't – I intimately understood the fear and frustration that comes with writing difficulties. Every time I saw a student staring at their blank paper, tears welling up because they couldn't get the words right, I saw my younger self. I remembered Mrs. Thompson, my third-grade teacher, who'd mark every misspelled word in red, unknowingly chipping away at my confidence with each stroke of her pen.

That's why I vowed to teach differently. In my classroom, we've always celebrated progress over perfection. I've been open with my students about my own dyslexia, showing them my personal strategies and the tools I've developed over the years. It's amazing how a child's face lights up when they realize their teacher still sometimes writes 'recieve' instead of 'receive' – and that it's okay.

The Real Challenges (From Someone Who's Lived Them)

1. Breaking Free from Spelling Fear

When little Sarah joined my class in the ’90s, she was gripped with fear over writing because she struggled with spelling. Her words felt like they were caught in brambles, keeping her from expressing the stories in her heart. To help her see spelling as part of a journey, I shared a few precious pages from my own childhood writing (the ones I could find—most ended up in the fire!). “Look,” I told her, pointing to my attempts at words like *pichur* instead of *picture*. “The story is what mattered most.”

We started Sarah’s journey with 'Sounds'; we focused on connecting sounds to symbols. She’d whisper new sounds as she tapped them out in simple words. And to help her shake her fear, we created a small “permission star” code: she’d place a star above any word she wasn’t sure of and keep going with her story. She loved how these stars sparkled on her pages, guiding her forward. With each step through this clearing, Sarah began to feel the magic of storytelling.

As she grew more comfortable, we explored familiar letter patterns, like “-ing” and silent “e,” and sound families like “ake.” We traced syllable patterns, clapped out rhythm with our feet, and even collected patterns she could refer back to.

By the end of the year, Sarah had completed an 11-page story about a magical dolphin leaping through the waves. Sure, ‘dolphin’ was spelled three different ways, but she had found her voice. She had learned what took me years to understand—don’t let the fear of spelling a word stop you from expressing yourself.

2. Finding Order in Chaos: Structure as a Friend

My own struggles with organizing thoughts helped me develop what I call the "Building Blocks" method. Unlike the traditional outline method that confused me as a child, we use physical blocks labeled with different parts of the story. Students can move them around, stack them, and visually see how their writing fits together.

Jake, a bright but scattered thinker like I was, connected immediately with this approach. "It's like LEGO for writing!" he exclaimed. Watching him physically manipulate his story elements before writing helped him understand structure in a way that traditional methods never could.

3. Teaching Voice When Letters Play Tricks

One of my proudest innovations grew out of my own experience with words that seemed to dance and shift on the page. Remembering how daunting it felt to get my thoughts down in writing, I began encouraging my students to express their stories in creative ways before ever touching pen to paper. Instead of simply recording their stories, I set up storytelling booths and theater sports sessions, allowing students to bring their ideas to life through spoken words, gestures, and interactions. In these spaces, students could pair up to share their stories, with one acting as the storyteller and the other as a scribe who transcribed key moments.

Emily, a student who often struggled to get her ideas on the page, discovered her storytelling brilliance in this format. As she shared her tales verbally, they came alive—vivid, engaging, and full of personality. Without the pressure of immediate writing, Emily realized the strength of her voice and imagination. Together, we would listen to her recordings, identify the themes and images that stood out, and gradually work on translating her spoken ideas into written words.

This approach allowed students like Emily to see themselves as storytellers first, free from the confines of spelling and grammar that can feel like barriers. By focusing on expressing their ideas aloud, students discovered their voices and built confidence, which carried over as we worked on putting their stories on paper. This process of storytelling and collaborative transcription became a celebration of their creativity rather than a dreaded writing task.

4. The Joy of Breaking Through

In teaching, there’s a unique joy that comes from witnessing a student discover their potential against the odds. I’ve had the privilege of helping students who struggle, just as I once did, to unlock their voices and recognize the power of their words. These are the moments that define my work—the ones that reaffirm that growth and success can look different for everyone.

One of the most memorable breakthroughs was with Alex, a fourth-grader who had difficulty reading. His struggles were a source of frustration and self-doubt, clouding his belief in himself as a learner and a writer. We spent countless hours exploring alternative ways to make reading and writing accessible, from audiobooks to multisensory tools like my “Building Blocks” method, which allowed him to interact with his ideas tangibly.

When he returned years later, during his senior year of high school, he brought with him something that would solidify the impact of our work together—his college application essay. It was a powerful, honest piece about overcoming the limitations he once felt defined him and about reshaping his view of his unique learning journey. 

"You showed me that struggling with writing wasn’t a dead end for learning," he said, smiling. "It just meant I had to find my own path." That moment, hearing Alex’s words and seeing the confidence he had found in himself, was a reminder that education is not one-size-fits-all. It’s about empowering students to find their paths, their voices, and, ultimately, their sense of accomplishment.

For students like Alex, who may have been overlooked or written off, these breakthroughs are life-changing. When they realize that their challenges don’t dictate their success, a world of possibility opens up. Watching that transformation unfold is the most profound joy I experience as an educator—seeing students who once struggled come back as confident writers and thinkers, ready to shape the world in their unique way.

What Thirty Years and Struggling With Writing Have Taught Me

My journey from a struggling student to a writing teacher has taught me that our greatest challenges often become our greatest gifts. My struggles with writing and reading, which once seemed like an insurmountable barrier, gave me unique insights into helping young writers overcome their own obstacles.

I've learned that good writing isn't about perfect spelling or flawless first drafts. It's about having the courage to put your thoughts on paper, the persistence to keep trying when letters misbehave, and the wisdom to know that everyone's writing journey is different.

To my fellow educators: our own struggles can be powerful teaching tools. Don't hide them; share them. Let your students see that challenges can become stepping stones.

And to every student who's ever felt defeated by dyslexia or any other writing challenge: your stories matter. Your voice matters. With the right tools and support, you can become not just a writer but a powerful communicator. I know, because I've lived this truth—first as a struggling student, then through thirty years of helping others find their way through the wonderful maze of words.

Remember, writing well isn't about perfection. It's about persistence, creativity, and finding your own path to expressing your thoughts. Sometimes, the most winding roads lead to the most surprising and beautiful destinations.