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 team there put me through a battery of cognitive tests that I vaguely remember as fun. In the end, they said, “He is a classic dyslexic,” and handed over a 50-page report explaining what that meant.

More importantly, they provided a list of tutors they believed could help. At the top was Louise, who lived in the next town and 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) was a device writers often used 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 second grade, school was smooth sailing. I no longer needed extra time on tests or any special accommodations. By third grade, I was accepted into a program for the “academically talented”—a complete turnaround.

It felt as if dyslexia were 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 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.