In kindergarten, my teacher told my parents I was "special."
She was referring to my big personality and my infinite energy. My parents laughed and smiled, and life kept moving…
Moments like these matter a lot more than we realize. Words, even kind ones, can shape a child's self-perception in ways that last far beyond a classroom.
On the outside, I looked like a confident kid. I was happy all the time. In fact, it may be better to use the adjective "crazy." I was as hyper and bubbly as they get! I could walk into a room and make friends instantly. School, however, was a very different story.
In elementary school, learning felt overwhelming. I didn't learn to read until the end of first grade, and I was pulled out of nearly every class for extra help. As the years went on, I began to recognize something: I was different.
By fourth grade, my confidence was gone. I remember telling my parents that I was the "stupidest" kid in the classroom. I vividly remember saying that everyone else was smarter than me, and that I would never be like them. I told them I hated school and never wanted to go.
That same year, my parents had me evaluated by a neuropsychologist. I was finally diagnosed. With that came support and something began to change.
I started to thrive and succeed like I never had.
By fifth grade, my teachers told my parents they never would have known about my past struggles had my parents not explained them.
On paper, I was doing more than I ever thought possible. But internally, I was still carrying a label: "stupid." I believed it too. I thought I was someone who "struggled," someone who shouldn't be pushed too hard, someone who couldn't quite compare to my peers.
Even while I was excelling, my expectations for myself stayed small.
I didn't yet understand my own potential. I only knew that I was "fine" in the classes I was placed in. Teachers were very careful not to overload me.
Everything shifted when my environment changed, when my history no longer defined me or confined me.
Instead of being a student destined for lower level classes because I needed support, I became a student who was pushed to my capabilities. And I thrived on the challenge.
That's when I learned something that changed everything:
Needing support never limited my potential. It opened it.— Dylan Tanzer
I was never less capable. I simply needed the right tools, the right understanding, and the chance to move beyond a label that no longer fit.
It's only when we look beyond labels that we begin to see the potential that has been hidden in plain sight all along.
This is only the beginning of my story and the support I hope to provide.
More to come!
Want to know more about Dylan's journey?
Dylan founded Hidden in Plain Sight to make sure no child has to carry the labels she once did. Read her full story on the About Me page.
Read My Full Story →