Information at the Right Time as a Deus ex Machina

THERE WAS A MOMENT when I was in danger of having a terrible academic experience in school. I was failing in kindergarten. The educational specialists at the school weren’t able to help.

My mother had the sense to get me tested at the world-class Boston Children’s Hospital. The people at the hospital put me through a battery of cognitive tests that I vaguely remember being fun. In the end, they said, “He is a classic dyslexic,” and handed over a 50-page report about what that meant.

More importantly they gave a list of tutors they thought could be helpful. At the top of the list was Louise, who lived in the next town. She was working on her Ph.D. at Harvard.

In Ancient Greek theatre, a crane was used to lower an actor playing a god or goddess onto the stage. This “god from the machine” (Deus ex Machina) device was often employed by writers to miraculously resolve seemingly hopeless situations.

In a similar manner, Louise entered the stage of my life. Over the next few years, she taught me to read using a distinct method. By the 2nd grade, school was smooth sailing for me. I no longer needed extra time on tests or any special accommodations. By the 3rd grade, I was accepted into a special program for the “academically-talented”—a complete turnaround.

It felt as if dyslexia was merely a quirky, distant uncle who had stayed with us in Massachusetts for a short while before returning to a far-off land.

When I applied to college, I was accepted everywhere I applied, including receiving early admission to Stanford.

What if I hadn’t had a Louise? What if school had been a continuous struggle? What if the help had come only a few years later?

This is how I came to understand that the timing of information and support is critical.