School Was No Fun, Not Even Waking Up For It.
If you had told me forty years ago that I would be writing and illustrating picture books in another language for kids one day, I would have called you crazy. I grew up in Switzerland in the seventies, and back then, dyslexia was not recognized in Swiss schools as a debilitating learning disorder.
The fact that my mom, Annette, my older brother, and my younger sister were all straight-A students did not help either. My mother cared deeply about my dismal school grades and spent countless hours after dinner helping me with my homework, which usually left me exhausted and in tears after repeatedly taking down the same dictation, with minimal to no improvement. I took the dictation test the next day, making more than triple the number of mistakes to pass even the lowest grade. Back then, forming words with letters made no sense to me, like the name Peter. Why was it spelled “that way” after all the letters P and T contained the E already? Therefore, why is the name not spelled “this way”: PTR?
I started having nightmares, and in my dreams, a giant albino alligator with gleaming red eyes lived under my bed, ready to chew at my legs when it was time to get up and go to school.
The fact that my mom, Annette, my older brother, and my younger sister were all straight-A students did not help either. My mother cared deeply about my dismal school grades and spent countless hours after dinner helping me with my homework, which usually left me exhausted and in tears after repeatedly taking down the same dictation, with minimal to no improvement. I took the dictation test the next day, making more than triple the number of mistakes to pass even the lowest grade. Back then, forming words with letters made no sense to me, like the name Peter. Why was it spelled “that way” after all the letters P and T contained the E already? Therefore, why is the name not spelled “this way”: PTR?
I started having nightmares, and in my dreams, a giant albino alligator with gleaming red eyes lived under my bed, ready to chew at my legs when it was time to get up and go to school.
School was no fun, not even waking up for it.
I told my mom about the evil albino gator. She told me that dreams are not real, just figments of my imagination. Together, we looked underneath the bed a few times. There was no albino gator to be found.
My mother eventually found an article in a magazine that described dyslexia and recognized my condition. After talking to teachers and the school board, who had never heard of dyslexia, she found a teacher who specialized in tutoring dyslexic children to navigate the treacherous world of letters and numbers.
Years later, while traveling in Florida, I found a newspaper article about an Albino Gator living in a small family-owned zoo. Later that day, I called my mom and told her I had found my Dyslexia-Gator living well in a Floridian petting zoo.
Years later, while traveling in Florida, I found a newspaper article about an Albino Gator living in a small family-owned zoo. Later that day, I called my mom and told her I had found my Dyslexia-Gator living well in a Floridian petting zoo.
So much for the figments of the imagination. We had a good laugh.
Self Portrait
My Brother, Me and Grandpa.
Me with Friends