A Year in the Life of The Dyslexic Professor (52/52 or 100%)!

I’ve made it! 52 blogs over 12 months = A Year in the Life of The Dyslexic Professor

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Of course, this is a moment to look backward and forward. Backward, to the highlights and unintended consequences and forward to ‘so what‘ and ‘what next‘? What started, 12 months ago, with a single blog, has ended the year as a commitment to start a movement.

I have learnt two things about blogging:

  1. They are intensively personal and, at least for me, cathartic.
  2. People read them!

As a slight digression, this reminds me of Julie and Julia

So, by good foresight or good luck, I feel liberated and empowered and connected to fellow Dyslexic Activists (people with dyslexia and non-dyslexics passionate about the value people with dyslexia bring to our society).

I have moved from seeing my dyslexia as a disability to a learning difference and now a superpower, which guides my next steps … to quite literally turn the perception of dyslexia on its head. The question is not, ‘How do we support people with dyslexia in schools, colleges, universities, prisons and workplaces‘ to ‘How can we attract people with this dyslexia superpower‘.

This is in essence, a call for valuing diversity. Not because of a law or to do the ‘right thing’ but because it produces results for both parties – a win-win – better organisations and happier people.

It’s time to ‘commit oneself to a course of action about which one is nervous’ or put simply to … take the plunge! 

Or as Mary Oliver expressed it so profoundly in the last line of ‘The Summer Day’ … Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

Very best wishes