There was no reason for me to believe my child had a learning disability called Dysgraphia. I didn’t even know what it was. She was smart, witty, and quick to understand things. So why wasn’t she writing? At first, we thought she just didn’t want to work, preferring fun over schoolwork. We tried everything—encouragement, rewards, punishments—but nothing worked. No matter how much we coaxed her, she simply wouldn’t write.
One day, we forced her to complete an assignment from school. She did, but with such difficulty that when she finished, she lay down, exhausted, as if she had just run a marathon. That moment told me something wasn’t right. I reached out to friends who had teaching experience. They reassured me, saying, “Don’t worry, every child learns to write eventually.” While I listened to their advice, my instincts as a mother told me something different.
I enrolled her in Best Brain’s math program, where the manager called her “smart but lazy.” That didn’t sit right with me. Who was he to label my child lazy? I knew in my heart she wasn’t pretending—something was truly challenging her, even if we didn’t know what it was.
In second grade, we moved her to a Montessori school. The principal there confirmed everything I knew about my daughter—she was smart, witty, and kind-hearted. But she also said, “We believe she has a challenge. She understands the material but struggles to put it on paper.” She suggested an assessment.
The diagnosis came back: ADHD, Dysgraphia, and Dyscalculia. It was a relief, in a way. Now we knew what was going on and could begin to address it. We were given a list of resources, but unfortunately, they weren’t enough. One useful app and the recommendation to teach her touch typing were helpful, but beyond that, I was mostly on my own, searching for ways to help her.
Even with the diagnosis, finding the right support was difficult. Dysgraphia has no cure, which means when my child becomes an adult, she’ll need assistive technology. She will learn to fill out forms in print said the psychologist but that’s about it. I didn’t have time for a pity party because my child was struggling and so I dove into finding solutions. There was no central resource, no guidebook that offered all the tools in one place.
I had to teach my seven-year-old touch typing. But where do you start with a child that young? I tried countless typing programs and note taking apps, many designed for college students or researchers, to find the right fit. It took hours—no, days—of searching and testing. What I learned is that children with Dysgraphia don’t need the same tools as others; they need different tools and touch typing is just one of them.
As a parent who has been through this journey, I always wished I had found a single resource to save me the time and frustration of trial and error. So, here’s my effort to provide just that—a resource for parents like me, who are overwhelmed and don’t have the luxury of spending hours testing apps. My desire is to help you find the tools your child needs to thrive.
“We’re in this together—have a tip or story to share? Drop it in the comments!”