Why wasn’t my daughter’s slow processing speed worthy of help?

In eighth grade, my daughter had a “fake” evaluation for learning disabilities. One of my friends was taking a graduate course in this type of testing and used my daughter as a practice subject. But while the evaluation wasn’t real, the test results were.

My daughter’s language scores were off the charts. That didn’t surprise me. She’d always done very well in English and social studies. What did surprise me was her exceptionally low score on processing speed — 20th percentile. At that point, I didn’t know slow processing speed was even a thing, let alone a brewing problem for my daughter. I wish I’d known.

We followed the fake evaluation with a formal one that turned up the same results. As I learned about slow processing speed, a lot of things about my daughter started making sense. She was a strong student, but she didn’t do well on standardized tests. She was a good reader, but it took her forever to get through a book. And she hated playing timed board games. If it involved an hourglass or a timer, she just wouldn’t play.

At first, I downplayed the difficulty. OK, so she didn’t like board games. Lots of people don’t. And even if she took more time than most kids to read a book, she had no trouble reading (unlike her brother with dyslexia). Plus, her grades were good. I didn’t see it as a big problem.

But in high school, things changed. Suddenly, her typically high grades were up and down. Up when she could work at her own pace and when tests were short. Down when she had limited time or took long exams.

One time she failed a history exam because she only got halfway through. She cried for an hour. She shook, she was so worried and upset. Then the teacher had my daughter come back in to finish without a time limit just to see what would happen. She got an A.

Her formal evaluation showed it, her exam scores and grades showed it, and her emotional state showed it, too. Her slow processing speed was having a serious impact. So, we asked the school for an accommodation — extended time on tests. We were very familiar with school supports since our son received special education.

We didn’t expect to have a problem getting her help. Our daughter’s difficulties were well documented. It wasn’t like we were making it up, or trying to get some advantage. But the school turned down our request. She wasn’t entitled to extra time, they said, because her grades were too high. (Someone at the meeting literally said she wasn’t “entitled to A’s and B’s.”)

I was floored. How low did her grades have to be before they’d help her, I asked. The answer? Mostly D’s. Then I was furious.

A good student who struggled with a learning challenge that impacted her grades, self-esteem, and mental health didn’t deserve support because she was…a good student. She had to wait until she was practically failing to get help. The school said the same thing the following year when we tried again.

So, driven to do well, my daughter doubled her efforts, staying up late finishing reading assignments and studying long after she’d memorized everything. Every time she had a low test score, I told her it was OK, and that it didn’t mean she wasn’t smart or capable. Her response was to work even harder the next time. For a while I took that as a sign of resilience.

Then, in her junior year, we took a holiday trip with our large extended family. My daughter had to bring her books with her. She worked during the vacation and on the plane ride home. After we landed, the whole family stood together in the baggage claim area, laughing and talking. But when I looked over at my daughter, I saw she was crying. She hadn’t gotten through her work and would have to stay up all night to finish it.

At the end of that week, my daughter started seeing a therapist. It took a while, but she began to understand that her processing issues had nothing to do with her intelligence or her ability. Her anxiety and self-doubt lasted a lot longer. Why wouldn’t they? She had to rethink what colleges she could apply to because her SAT scores were so low without an accommodation.

She ended up at her number one choice, and she did very well. She often took courses that didn’t have timed exams. It may have taken her longer to get through assignments, but she took periodic setbacks in stride.

After graduation, when she was (anxiously) job hunting, she said something to me out of the blue that I’ll never forget. “You know,” she said, “I’ve finally realized that nobody cares if I’m not perfect.” She’s right, of course. Nobody cares and nobody’s perfect, either.

Does this mean that all’s well that ends well? Not really. My daughter spent many years struggling with her challenges because somebody decided they weren’t bad enough for her to get support. It didn’t have to be that way.