From as early as I can remember, reading felt impossible.

 

My brain would often misread words the first time through, forcing me to go back and reread sentences repeatedly, especially with confusing words like “said,” “though,” or “through,” words that looked or sounded similar but weren’t. Reading wasn’t just mentally exhausting; it hurt physically too. Any time I read out loud, it felt like I was running a marathon. Homeschooling was full of care but didn’t have the tools to address my reading struggles. It was a safe space that somehow kept my challenges hidden from everyone, including me.

 

College hit me hard.

 

Despite my relentless efforts and countless hours spent poring over textbooks, the pace of coursework was overwhelming. The assigned readings seemed like mountains too steep to climb; I could spend hours on a single page, only to give up and skip entire chapters. This pattern of missing out on crucial information only compounded my difficulties, a fact starkly reflected in the sea of Fs that flooded my transcripts. Each failing grade was a taunt, a harsh reminder of my battle with the written word, casting a shadow over my aspirations of earning a degree.

 

The turning point.

 

I decided to leave college and enter the workforce instead. During my workdays, I would lose myself in music through my noise canceling headphones. When music eventually lost its luster, I turned to podcasts, but the content felt stale and the inside jokes went over my head. Then, on a friend’s suggestion, I started listening to audiobooks. It was an odd transition, finding comfort in something I used to dread. Yet, it felt right, and before I knew it, I was buying more books than video games. A turning point came after listening to Normal Sucks: How to Live, Learn, and Thrive Outside the Lines by Jonathan Mooney. The way Mooney described his struggles with dyslexia hit close to home, and it finally pushed me to seek a specialist. At 26, I was diagnosed with dyslexia. The diagnosis was more than a label; it was an explanation. It opened up a world of resources that have since become invaluable.

 

Rediscovering education.

 

Text to speech technology, especially the Read Aloud feature in Microsoft Edge, was a lifesaving tool when attending school the second time. It turned pages of text into spoken words, making learning more accessible and less scary. With this tool, the once daunting assigned readings became manageable and even pleasant. While the technology didn’t magically convert my Fs to As, it equipped me with the means to study effectively. Thanks to this, I earned my first A in college, marking a milestone in my educational journey.

 

Accessible design matters.

 

To work well with text to speech, digital documents need careful design. Pictures must be placed thoughtfully so that they don’t interrupt the spoken flow. According to a study on unstructured data analysis by Lee et al. (2018), poorly placed images can create awkward silences. But when images are integrated smoothly with the text, the technology can narrate the content without any jarring pauses. This approach ensures that everyone, including employees with visual impairments, can follow along easily.

 

Accessible design is more than an academic concept; it’s a practical approach to inclusion. It helps many people, like me, navigate the written world. It’s not just ticking a box, it’s about taking steps toward an inclusive society. Supporting accessible design means we’re opening doors for a diverse range of people and fostering a more understanding and innovative educational environment.