I took my first tap class when I was six-years-old, the same year I was supposed to learn to read and spell.

I loved my Saturday morning classes in Miss Irene’s studio above a storefront in downtown Rutland, Vermont. When Miss Irene realized I was having trouble following her right foot / left foot directions, she put a red ribbon on my right tap shoe. 

I am convinced that my 12 years of tap classes as a kid and the tap classes I take today help me with my dyslexia. My feet learn what to do and which foot does what. While the beat goes on my brain easily identifies right and left as I learn dance steps and routines. 

Reversing letters and numbers? Still a problem. I need to be very sure that if I have an appointment at 253 Broadway I don’t write down 235 or 352.  

Reading? I still read word by word, hearing  every word in my head. 

But I know my right from my left and I know how to tap dance.

 

 

 

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Brian is a terrible student. His family think he's lazy. His fiiends think that's just fine. In fact, they think some of the things Brian does are really funny - like writing his name Brain intead of Brian. But Brian isn't trying to be funny. He knows he isn't lazy. And he's tired of feeling stupid, tired of working and working to learn things, to get words right, and never even knowing he's gotten them wrong. When a tough new sixth-grade teacer focuses on Brian, he's sure that now, he will always be the class dummy. That's how Brian's sixth grade adventure begins.