There are long waiting lists for few resources in the treatment of dyslexia in Ireland. One couple who feel the system here has let them down tell of the alternative therapy they sought in Britain for their daughter
For many children with learning disabilities, the return to school this week is painful. Classroom activities and lessons intensify their sense of frustration and anguish, and sap their confidence and self-esteem.
The parents of Kelly Meagher (9) began to notice she was having difficulties with learning material when she entered first class. Before then, she had trouble identifying the letters that go with their sounds, and with ordering things sequentially - hallmarks of dyslexia, a learning disability characterised by difficulty in decoding sounds and the symbols we use for words and numbers.
As Kelly's father, Conor, had suffered both academically and socially from his dyslexia when he was in school, Kelly's parents were determined not to let her to suffer in the same way. In 1999, Kelly started first class, and "from then, we realised that her progress wasn't in keeping with her peers," Oonagh Meagher recounts. "But the school didn't have a problem with that. They thought she had reading difficulties, and it would take time, but she would eventually get it."
After a year and half of frustration, the Meaghers approached the learning support teacher, who told them there was a problem. Kelly would need to be assessed urgently, but there was an 18-month waiting list within the school system. The Meaghers weren't willing to wait and they paid to have her assessed privately - for which there was a shorter waiting list. The assessment confirmed their suspicions - Kelly was dyslexic - and recommended she remain in mainstream schooling, as she was getting on in her other subjects, such as maths.
But by the time Kelly had entered third class "her progress deteriorated", Oonagh says. "They were starting to work with sequences and symbols, and Kelly couldn't manage them. And it was starting to affect maths, geography - everything." The Meaghers joined the National Dyslexia Association which, in addition to providing moral support, supplied them with lists of workshops and tutors. "We couldn't get her into any of the workshops. There weren't a lot of them, and they were all well booked out." They found a private tutor for Kelly, but the tutor and the learning support teacher "had two completely different ways of treating the problem", Oonagh explains, "and Kelly was getting upset". In addition, in moving from second to third year, Kelly's class had been amalgamated with another, and she was now vying with 33 other children for help and attention.
Along with her academic performance, Kelly - a lively, outgoing, talkative girl - changed in character and demeanour. "At a parent-teacher meeting, we heard that Kelly was one of the quietest kids in the class," Oonagh recalls. "They said she was 'socially immature' and hypersensitive. That really hit me with a bang." Because of this, and the fact that Kelly really needed to repeat her third year, the Meaghers struggled to find a different school for her. They were lucky to obtain a place in a new school recommended to them by Kelly's tutor as particularly good in attending to children with special needs.
To bolster Kelly's performance, they also began to bring her to a DDAT centre in Cardiff for treatment. A relatively new clinic in the UK, treating patients for about three years now, the DDAT centres "look at the cause of dyslexia and treat the cause - the others just treat the symptoms", according to Susan Hart, development consultant at the centre. "These children are usually very bright. They notice others doing well and become very frustrated." DDAT - the acronym stands for dyslexia, dyspraxia and attention deficit disorder therapy - is run by millionaire Wynford Dore, whose dyslexic daughter had attempted suicide. The therapy works on the basis that these learning disabilities derive from a delay in the maturation of the cerebellum, the part of the brain that co-ordinates and regulates muscular activity.
"Instead of teaching ways around the problems," explains Hart, "after assessment, we give patients exercises, which they have to do for 10 minutes each day". They are now beginning to work on projects with local education authorities and the education action zones within the British education system, and plan to publish a report detailing the findings of research on their therapy and methods this autumn which, Hart predicts, will contain "incredibly good news".
DDAT is not the first therapy to base its treatment of learning disorders on physiology and exercise. The Institute for Neuro-Physiological Psychology in the UK, for example, was established in 1975 by Dr Peter Blythe, with centres in many countries in Europe. Trudy McDonald, a neuro-developmental therapist working in Dublin, in conjunction with the INPP, describes it as working with "the same ideas, the same theory, but slightly different exercises". Dr Blythe had been looking at the balance mechanism and discovered it affected not only learning but also the auditory and eye muscles, all of which are closely linked neurologically.
Last year, a Department of Education task force on dyslexia published its recommendations in a report. According to task force member and education consultant for the Dyslexia Association of Ireland, Alan Sayles, it looked at the problems of dyslexia and how they were being dealt with, and made recommendations to the Department. He advises parents to be "very wary" when considering alternative treatments for learning disabilities: "Most don't have the scientific research to back them up. Before parents invest emotionally and financially in these treatments, they should find out as much as they can about them."
McDonald seconds this: "You should make sure the therapist has been well-trained. A parent has to be very careful of anyone they entrust their child to." Sayles believes schools should conduct psychological screening from the age of three to detect possible future difficulties: "The earlier you catch the problem the easier it is to help". There are four special schools, three in Dublin, one in Cork, that deal with learning disabilities, with classrooms to hold 11 students to one teacher. The Department of Education offers other services to provide for students who are geographically unable to avail of these. But in general, Sayles says, resources for the treatment of dyslexia and other learning disabilities in Ireland are "very patchy".
PARENTS have rights under the Education Act, Sayles emphasises, and schools have to respond to the problems of their children. "Everyone has the right to appropriate education. People with learning disabilities have needs that schools must address. Parents need to get more politically aware and demand these things."
Unfortunately, students usually follow the "wait and fail" route. "I'd like to see a scenario in which you don't need to be assessed to be served," says Sayles. "At the moment, the system doesn't allow that. You have to wait until you really fall behind."
This was not an option the Meaghers were prepared to explore. "I'm really angry that we have to take the initiative all the time," Oonagh complains. "The primary system really let us down. And I don't feel we should have to pay out of our own pockets for this. If we couldn't afford to help Kelly, where would we be? None of our expenses are redeemable for taxes or anything. I can't understand why you cannot get tax relief on these private lessons for your child."
Kelly starts school again this week, and her parents are hopeful that the combination of new class, her tutoring and the DDAT therapy will effect improvement. They remain concerned, however, for Kelly's well-being, and that of other people with learning disorders. "The only reason we picked up on Kelly's difficulties was because of me," Conor Meagher says. "It's frightening to think how many children must struggle and struggle and struggle."
[ www.dyslexia.ie ]