Bea (whose name means industrious and diligent) was just a baby when I met her. I’ve had the privilege of watching her grow up—side by side with her older sister, Amelia, who taught herself to read before anyone realized she was paying attention to words and letters, at the age of three.
Amelia’s mind was constantly reaching for more. Her parents, at times, worried about her—could a child’s hunger to learn be too intense? Olivia, their mother, was always watchful. Amelia picked up words naturally, listening to stories and intuitively grasping how language worked. When Olivia began teaching her phonics, Amelia shot ahead—reading at a fourth-grade level or higher before formal homeschooling ever began.
Bea, though just as curious, followed a different path.
When Learning Doesn’t “Click” Right Away
Bea was a steady and responsible child—even as a preschooler. Unlike Amelia, she didn’t test boundaries much. She did what she was told. So when reading didn’t “click,” no one panicked. Everyone assumed it would come in time.
At age seven, Olivia began formal instruction—phonics, reading, math, and writing. Bea participated diligently. She followed instructions. But she couldn’t seem to hold the mental images of letters and words. She could copy a little, but dictation was a struggle. Nothing stuck.
Still, Olivia pressed on, dutiful and faithful. But over time, I saw her growing discouraged. I asked a few questions, and soon began tutoring Bea myself.
Building Learning Differently
We went back to the beginning.
We practiced letters and sounds. We bounced on the trampoline while saying phonics patterns. We rolled out letters in playdough. We shaped the entire alphabet—forward and backward—from modeling clay. For key sight words, we built both the word and a matching picture.
I taught Bea the sequence from The Writing Road to Reading and much of the approach outlined in The Gift of Dyslexia. We integrated art—something Bea has always been incredibly gifted at. We played outside. (Because yes, core strength matters more than people realize—and play is a powerful tool.)
We chanted. We sang. We learned words in isolation and in context. Meanwhile, Olivia continued her work at home with tireless determination. She found Diane Craft’s program and began helping Bea visualize letters and words through visual tracking exercises, that involved holding the cards high and having Bea look up at them. That helped, too.
Each Child, Uniquely Wired
Over the years, I’ve stayed connected with this remarkable family. Olivia has now homeschooled four bright, differently-wired children—each with their own gifts and challenges.
Bea wasn’t the only one who needed support. Each child—Amelia, Isabella, Bea, and their younger brother Hoshea—presented a unique neurodiversity. Not one-size-fits-all. Not easily categorized or any of them just plugged into a simple curriculum and left to self-educate.
Eventually, I suggested teaching Isabella and Bea together. And we noticed something hard: Isabella overtook her older sister in reading and writing quite quickly. Bea was still testing at a kindergarten reading level, despite year after year of determined, disciplined effort.
It was time to try something new.
When Tools Unlock Potential
We introduced assistive technology. Bea began using a text-to-type system for writing, and audiobooks for reading. And just like that—the gate opened.
Finally, Bea could release the brilliance that had been building quietly inside her all along.
She began engaging with classic literature—Dickens, Jane Austen—and talking about them intelligently, with depth and nuance. Her learning took off, now that the barriers were lifted.
She graduated from homeschool with honors and is heading to college soon. With accommodations in place (which I’ll gladly help coordinate), I have no doubt she will thrive. Her character has been forged through long struggle, and she’s become a woman of courage, resilience, and grace.
A Word for the Parent-Educator
If you’re a parent-educator reading this, I want you to know:
Sometimes our most diligent, cooperative children struggle the longest—and not because they aren’t bright. Often, it’s because they’re wired differently. And that difference might not show up until the expectations of traditional education bring it to the surface.
If something isn’t sticking, don’t assume it’s your fault—or theirs. Keep watching. Keep adapting. Keep believing.
And know this: Olivia, like so many of you, showed up day after day, without praise or applause, trusting that love and perseverance would make a way. She’s now guided four children through challenges and toward flourishing.
She may never get a medal here on earth. But in heaven? I’m convinced she’s first in line.