Words are good: talk with me!
For many years, I have really wanted to share experiences with others who have little or no visual imagination, because this interesting characteristic has helped shape my life.
So, why today? Well, last Sunday afternoon, I was out and about with my neighbour and newish friend ‘A’. She turned her car around while I went on a quick errand. – PROBLEM: previously her car had stayed put, and if I needed to find it when she was not beside me, I only had to remember where we left it. That is in itself was actually a little risky, but my memory of where it was parked had not, as it happened, ever let me down. This time, I needed to find a car that had moved, and I had not bothered to memorize the number plate, or the make, and had no name for the colour! I can visualize proper colours such as red or blue, but this wasn’t a real colour, wasn’t white, or grey, or off-white or metallic, and it has to be said that I am not interested in cars.
Worried I might approach a car with a stranger inside – it is not easy to see in clearly – I took my time. ‘A’ was horrified because she thought I could not SEE the car!!!! Worse, I had been sharing that I perhaps ought to try driving lessons, even though I am in my 60’s!
Because of this funny incident, I decided to again try to find something on the Internet about people lacking visualization. I last tried maybe around 10 years ago, but couldn’t hit on a successful search term then. Now, sentences and questions work, so I hit info at last! I just want to break the isolation of this quirk, and have a good natter with others.
The trait helped wreck my education because of the methods used at my first school. Several years into failing and being left right behind with reading (hated books) there was a class where the teacher chalked words up on the board, one at a time, then wiped them off – I was probably 7. The class were asked each time to put up their hands if they could spell that word, and it seemed everyone could except me. That was the fateful day that I decided I must be stupid, and would never be able to read or write. On the writing front, the school demanded correct spelling: no mistakes allowed. This scared me out of attempting essays until I was 14, when I began to break free.
With different school emphasis, and different methods, I would have progressed fine and probably done well academically.
I remember being very angry about the illogicality of spelling, and thinking (and probably yelling) “Spelling is stupid. How can anyone remember it!!?”
I need to understand things to remember them, and actually that is positive. I do think the trait has stretched my intelligence.