A Safe Place for Joey (17 page)

“On this particular test, yes. He has an exceptionally high receptive language, that is, the understanding of the meaning of words; but he has great difficulty with expressive language, that is, expressing
his thoughts in verbal or written words.”

I turned next to the WRAT and said, “This is a brief test of word recognition, and spelling, and arithmetic. The grade scores on this test are somewhat inflated; that is, they come out four or five months too high, but the percentiles are fairly accurate. As you can see, Ben scored in the thirty-fourth percentile in reading, sixteenth percentile
in spelling, and eighty-sixth percentile in arithmetic. Both reading and spelling are far below the potential he showed on the WISC-R.”

“Ben’s always been good in math,” Carol Aylesworth said.

“Shush. Let her finish.”

“Well,” I continued, “obviously Ben does do better with math – which is primarily a visual, nonverbal task – than he does with reading and spelling. It is unusual
to have a child’s reading and spelling abilities so much lower than his overall intelligence. We need to look closely at the kind of spelling and reading errors he made, both here and on the other tests of reading.”

Thirty minutes later I had finished going through the rest of the tests, pointing out his slow rate of reading, his good creative thinking, his difficulty in remembering the
things he heard, his comparative ease in recalling what he saw, although there was still perceptual confusion. By “perception” I meant the way Ben organized and interpreted the raw data he received through his senses. I had shown them the Bender, the drawings, the Raven, and the Detroit and Harris. I explained that Ben was left-eyed and right-handed and that while there was dispute in the field over
the importance of this mixed dominance, it was present in many of the children whom I tutored. The Aylesworths were paying for all this information, and they were entitled to it. But more than that, I wanted all of us to understand Ben as thoroughly as we could.

“Overall,” I continued, “we see a picture of a bright boy – brighter than he (and probably his teachers) suspect. In school he
feels his classmates consider him stupid, and rightly or wrongly he feels that at home he is not pleasing you.

“Both Dr. Golden and I feel that Ben does have specific learning disabilities – some prefer the term ‘dyslexia’ – that account for a large proportion of his academic problems, and that Ben also feels anxious and insecure.”

“Anxious? What are you talking about? The boy is only
twelve years old. That’s a little young to be anxious.” There was an angry edge to Mr. Aylesworth’s voice.

“Anxious is just another word for scared,” I said. “Nobody’s too young to be scared.”

“All right. All right. But it seems to me that this just confirms what I’ve been saying all along. He’s lazy. You’ve just proved to me that he’s smart. If he’s smart, he can learn. Correct? If,
and I underline if, he works – and doesn’t diddle around up on the roof.” Ralph Aylesworth took out a pack of cigarettes, then, seeing no ashtray, laid them on the desk.

“Would you like an ashtray?”

“Do you object to my smoking?”

“No. Excuse me a minute. I’ll bring an ashtray up from downstairs.”

As I went down the stairs, I could hear Ralph Aylesworth saying, “I told you
to stop babying him. I knew he was smart.”

I set the ashtray in front of Mr. Aylesworth, watched while he shook a cigarette from the pack into his mouth. He held a silver lighter in his left hand and touched it to the end of the cigarette. He inhaled deeply and then let the smoke out in slow short puffs. The acrid smell immediately filled the room, but it was worth it. Ralph Aylesworth was
left-handed. Nothing conclusive about that, but another piece to add to the puzzle.

I turned to the parent form that Mrs. Aylesworth had finally returned, still only partially completed. “You’ve filled in Ben’s birth weight and the fact that he was a full-term baby. But you’ve left out the age when he first walked.”

“Yes … well. I know.” Carol Aylesworth smiled appealingly. “It’s just
that I couldn’t remember. You know you think you’ll never forget, but somehow I just don’t know exactly …” Her voice trailed off.

“How exact does it have to be?” Ralph Aylesworth cut in. “I know it was well before he was a year old. He was standing up, walking around in that rabbit costume you made him for Halloween, and his birthday’s not till November. I remember your mother telling everyone
about it at Christmas.”

“So eleven months?” I said. “Okay. Fine. Now about talking. When did he say his first words?”

“That was later,” Mrs. Aylesworth said, seemingly encouraged by the fact that she wasn’t expected to remember an exact date. “He made lots of noises, but we couldn’t understand any of them. Remember, Ralph, how we used to say he’d made up a language of his own?”

Ralph Aylesworth ground out his cigarette with his left hand and glanced at his watch.

“It’s after seven. We’ve been here over an hour, and I’m still not sure what’s the matter with Ben or what we’re supposed to do about it.”

“I did tell you that I believe Ben has specific problems that make it difficult for him to learn by ordinary classroom methods,” I said. “But I also need to
know what he was like before I knew him. I need you to tell me that. Did he have any high fevers, broken bones?”

“No, he was a very healthy baby,” Mr. Aylesworth said. “In fact, one thing I’ve got to be thankful for is that the whole family is healthy. Never had to call a doctor in our lives – only see them for checkups.”

Mrs. Aylesworth nodded. “That’s right. The only time was when
we were first married – and I got so sick you had to call Dr. Johnstone, and he put me in the hospital because my fever was so high and I was vomiting so much that he worried about dehydration. But then,” she stopped and smiled, “it turned out to be nothing. Well, nothing more than being pregnant with Ben.”

I sighed. “Look. I know it’s late. And learning disabilities is a vague term – I
realize that. And it’s vague because a child’s brain is not an easy place to explore. Until recently, the only means for internal examinations of the brain have been painful and dangerous. Certainly you can have Ben examined by a neurologist, and I can give you the names of two excellent pediatric neurologists and, in fact, would suggest you see one. I would also recommend an examination by a pediatric
audiologist, just to cover all bases. I would also recommend that Ben see someone twice a week who understands children with learning disabilities and knows how to teach him techniques to improve his reading and spelling. Ben badly needs to catch up and start having some success in school.”

Ralph Aylesworth stood up. I thought perhaps he was leaving, but instead he lit another cigarette
and walked across the room.

“Learning disabilities? What the hell does that mean?” He picked up a pad of white paper from a corner of the desk and tossed it in front of me. “Here – draw me a picture in black and white of what’s wrong with Ben’s brain.”

I pulled the pad toward me and stared at Ralph Aylesworth. Who did this man think he was to order me around in my own office? I started
to say this, but then Ben’s pale, handsome face imposed itself on the pad, and I forced myself to be quiet. Ben needed his father. I had to help Ralph Aylesworth understand that it wasn’t just a question of making Ben try harder. Well, I couldn’t draw a picture of Ben’s brain, but maybe I could make some lists. I wrote:

Overall Possible Causes

1. Genetic.
   
2. Organic.
   
3. Environmental.
   

Specific Signs of Ben’s Learning Disabilities

1. Mismatch between intelligence and academic performance.
   
2. Difficulty or delay in acquiring language – slight stutter.
   
3. Mixes up or can’t remember words.
   
4. Reversals – writes d for b – reads “was” as “saw.”
   
5. Poor auditory memory.
   
6. Poor sound-symbol relationship.
   
7. Mixed dominance.
   
8. Poor perceptual and organizational skills.
   
9. Poor graphomotor skills.
   
10. Large gap between excellent spatial knowledge and poor verbal and written expression.
    

Additional information

1. More males than females have these kinds of learning problems.
   
2. 45 per cent have close relatives who have learning disabilities.
   

What to Do

1. Examination by
   a pediatric neurologist.
   
2. Examination by a pediatric audiologist.
   
3. Supply educational therapy.
   
4. Supply emotional support.
   

This took about five minutes. Mrs. Aylesworth sat folding and unfolding her hands; Mr. Aylesworth paced back and forth across the room, stopping by the desk only to snuff out his cigarette and light another.

When I’d finished I put the pad
back on the desk and pushed it to the other side.

“Maybe this will help.”

Mr. Aylesworth glanced at the pad briefly, but never missed a stride. Mrs. Aylesworth leaned forward and looked at the list.

“Well, read it,” he barked, pacing to the far side of the room.

Mrs. Aylesworth cleared her throat and read: “Causes: one – genetic; two – organic; three – environmental …”

Mr. Aylesworth put out his cigarette and sat down, shading his eyes, looking at the pad.

When Carol Aylesworth had finished reading the page, he coughed and said, “Causes? Genetic? What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” I said. “There have been a number of studies done that show there is a tendency for dyslexia – or learning disabilities – to run in families.” I hesitated and then
added, “And that it occurs more often in the males of those families.”

The room was absolutely silent until Mr. Aylesworth spoke. His voice was steady, but very low. “Are you trying to tell me that I gave this damn thing to my son? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No,” I answered. “I said it was one of the possible –”

I stopped. Tears were running down Mr. Aylesworth’s face.
He sat without moving, without sound, without expression, while tears flooded his eyes and poured down his cheeks. I couldn’t believe it. This assured, successful, dominant, demanding man was crying in my office.

Mrs. Aylesworth fumbled in her purse and proffered a tissue. He pushed it away and stood up and took a pristine, folded handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his cheeks and
eyes. He unfolded it, turned away, and blew his nose. He sat back down and bent toward me, the handkerchief still between his hands, his voice unsteady now.

“Did you know I couldn’t read? Is that why you made that list instead of drawing? To prove it?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just didn’t know how to draw a picture of what you were asking. I was trying to be as clear as I
could be.”

“Well, now you know. I can’t read more than five or ten words on that whole page. I’ve never been able to. But I can talk. Unlike Ben, I guess. Although almost everything else you said about him you could say about me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand. How can you be president of –”

Mr. Aylesworth interrupted. “I just told you. Because I can talk. I talked myself
a high school degree, although I never finished. I talked myself a college degree and an MBA besides. Nobody ever checked. And it has been a living hell, wondering if, when, somebody will find out and call me on it.

“But, besides being able to talk, I can sell and I can make money. I made more sales my first year out than anybody had ever made in that company, and after that it was easy.
I just climbed the ladder, moving from one company to another, and finally to president of Zyloc. I had my résumé, my sales record, recommendations, and increasing money and power, and I had Helen.

“Helen is my secretary. She was an English major at college. I hired her the day she graduated, and she’s been with me ever since. When I moved, Helen moved with me. She never married. Zyloc,
Inc., is her life. Everywhere I go, Helen goes. In fact, until a couple of months ago, she was the only one who knew I could hardly read and couldn’t write even a simple letter. Helen reads to me and I dictate to her.

“But when all this damn business about Ben came to a head, Carol began to fuss about my being home more, spending more time with Ben. Of course, there was no point to that,
because I didn’t know what to do with Ben. He was acting crazy. Did you know he actually had my pajama top on up there on the roof? He wouldn’t talk to me, and it seemed to me that Carol was contributing to the problem by babying him, doing his work for him. He was enough of a sissy as it was.”

Carol Aylesworth and I watched silently as Ralph began his steady pacing once again.

“So
then,” he continued, “Carol got it into her head that I was having an affair with Helen.” He shook his head. “Helen has about as much sex appeal as Grandma Moses.”

“Well, you did take her every single place you went. Chicago. Los Angeles. London. Brussels. What was I supposed to think?” Carol Aylesworth said defensively, her voice whiny, the way Ben’s had been in the beginning.

“I
took her, for Christ’s sake, because she had to cover for me. Anyway, I hadn’t told Carol before,” Ralph Aylesworth continued. “I knew a hundred tricks with Carol. I told her I had poor eyesight, so she had to read the street signs if we were going someplace new. Money – she took care of all the bills. The finest restaurants – the captain attended to our order personally, I never used a menu. And
every day I sat behind a newspaper and turned the pages for at least a half hour.

“Well, she knows now. In fact, there are three of you who know now. You, Helen, and Carol.

“In some ways it’s a relief. And I suppose I knew all along that Ben was having some of the same troubles I did, but I didn’t want to admit it.

“You talk about scared,” Ralph Aylesworth said. “I can remember
screaming at Ben when he first mispronounced ‘spaghetti.’ How was he ever going to learn to read if he couldn’t even get his words straight?”

I nodded. I could see how terrifying it would be to this man who had acquired so much surface success at such cost to think that the same kind of tortured life awaited his son.