A few weeks back, I wrote about the temptations of graduate school for adults with learning disabilities — particularly those of us who are “twice-exceptional”.  If you’re great at a certain subject, if you enjoy it, if you get validation from your professors in that area, why not consider a PhD [...]]]>

Want fries with that?

A few weeks back, I wrote about the temptations of graduate school for adults with learning disabilities — particularly those of us who are “twice-exceptional”.  If you’re great at a certain subject, if you enjoy it, if you get validation from your professors in that area, why not consider a PhD program?

If you’re also incredibly weak in the clerical skills required of most entry-level jobs, if your self-esteem has taken a beating over the years because of your learning problems, if you get into the work force and find that the only positions you’re considered for are retail and food service … well, grad school has GOT to be better than this, right?

So you did it.  You got into grad school.  Only now your friends who graduated last year are back in their crappy service sector jobs while juggling two or three adjunct faculty positions.  They can barely make rent, they have no benefits, and you’re beginning to wonder if you’ve been snowed.

What do you do now?

What you do is you come up with a Plan B.  As Alexandra M Lord writes in her article, Every PhD Needs a Plan B, it is possible — and for adults with learning disabilities, I would say it is necessary — to simultaneously prepare for academia and the job market.  You get an internship.

Lord writes that a paid or unpaid internship (especially a non-teaching one, if you’re already getting teaching experience as a TA) is an ideal way to round out your resume with new skills and experiences.  It will also provide you with valuable personal contacts outside of academia.  And since most internships have a learning focus, it’s unlikely that you’ll spend all of your time doing those administrative tasks that your learning disabilities make such a nightmare.  In other words, when you’re not helping with admin stuff, you’ll have an opportunity to show your strengths.

Read her full article here.  For an article on someone whose squash hobby (the sport, not the food) became her career, check out “A PhD in Squash?”

At the moment I’m taking a break from filling out a quantitative survey on development in twice-exceptional adults. Twice-exceptional, or 2e, refers to people who are diagnosed with both giftedness and LD.

It’s kind of a weird label for kind of a weird condition. As you might have guessed, [...]]]>

OR, “My Mommy Says I’m Special!”

At the moment I’m taking a break from filling out a quantitative survey on development in twice-exceptional adults. Twice-exceptional, or 2e, refers to people who are diagnosed with both giftedness and LD.

It’s kind of a weird label for kind of a weird condition. As you might have guessed, I’m not entirely happy with it; it carries the air of a consolation prize, a term that has more to do with reassuring parents of 2e kids than the kids themselves. What kid is going to describe herself as “twice-exceptional”? I tried like hell to hide my intelligence from my peers when I was a kid. I didn’t describe myself as “intelligent” or “smart”, let alone “gifted”, because it seemed like a great way to get beat up. There’s no way I would have used a phrase like “twice-exceptional”.

I didn’t really have a choice in that particular matter, though, because 2e was on nobody’s radar when I was in school. I’d been identified as gifted in the third grade, and this was taken as proof that my academic struggles were the result of laziness, carelessness, and “not trying”. Smart kids were supposed to be good at everything. Smart kids were supposed to like school. Smart kids were supposed to be good students who kept their desks neat, showed their work, and turned assignments in on time. This, of course, was in spite of the fact that of the half-dozen kids in my grade who were in the gifted program, only one of them fit these “good student” criteria. The rest of us daydreamed in class, forgot our homework, and could barely close our desks due to the mess inside.

I’m glad that there’s now a word for people like me. It’s much easier to educate people about concurring giftedness and learning disability when you can assign a name to it. You can’t get the word out if there isn’t a word.

I just wish the word were a bit more matter of fact, less of a value judgment. A bit less Special. But I guess “twice-exceptional” is at least more positive than how I often think of myself in my darker moments. At least it’s better than “fux0red”.