Discovering Dyscalculia at 62: Randy’s Journey Through Misunderstood Struggles with Math
Randy, a seasoned educator now in her late sixties, spent most of her life believing she just wasn’t “good at math.” Despite being in honors classes throughout high school, math always stood out as a source of deep frustration and embarrassment. The discrepancy between her success in other subjects and her inability to grasp even basic math concepts led to a pervasive sense of inadequacy—one that followed her into adulthood and quietly shaped both her personal and professional life.
It wasn’t until Randy was 62, while taking a course on math learning disabilities to recertify her teaching license, that everything clicked. As she read the descriptions of dyscalculia—a learning difference that affects the ability to understand numbers and perform mathematical tasks—she saw herself. Seeking confirmation, she underwent testing with a school psychologist. The diagnosis was clear: she had dyscalculia.
Her immediate reaction was relief. “It wasn’t that I wasn’t smart,” she said. “It was that my brain works differently.” That moment of validation, however, soon gave way to anger and regret. She couldn’t help but wonder how different her life might have been if she’d been diagnosed earlier. The years of shame, the missed opportunities, the silent struggle—it all felt avoidable in hindsight.
Living with Dyscalculia
Randy describes her experience with dyscalculia as more than just difficulty with math. It affects how she processes information in day-to-day life. While she can multitask while reading or writing, math requires her full, undivided attention. “If I have to do math, everything else has to stop,” she explained. “The TV must be muted. I need complete focus.”
One coping mechanism she’s adopted is triple-checking all her work. “Even with a simple problem like 9 plus 4—I do it twice, maybe three times, just to be sure.” When it comes to personal finances—bills, loans, credit cards—she turns to her family for help and guidance. Her fear of making a mistake isn’t rooted in lack of effort, but in years of experience knowing how easily numbers can betray her.
Her dyscalculia also shaped her career. Randy opted not to pursue a Ph.D. because of the statistics and advanced math courses required. Socially, she avoids conversations that veer into math-related topics. Even now, she feels the sting of being left out, misunderstood, or judged.
But the most painful memories stem from her childhood. In third grade, a teacher publicly shamed her for not memorizing multiplication tables. Later, a high school geometry teacher told her, “I’m giving you a D because I can’t imagine another year trying to help you.” That comment stuck. It wasn’t just about a grade—it was about her worth.
Finding Workarounds
Despite her challenges, Randy has developed creative and persistent strategies to navigate a math-heavy world. Rather than giving up on math, she’s now trying to re-engage with it. She practices mental math in small ways—like while waiting in the car wash—and is slowly building confidence.
She visualizes numbers using TouchPoints, a multisensory math strategy, and is learning more about percentages so she can make smarter financial decisions. Surprisingly, she finds calculators more frustrating than helpful. If she enters the wrong number, she won’t know—so she double and triple checks with tools like adding machines and spreadsheets, which give her a clearer view of her steps.
Some of the most useful adaptations are simple but powerful. For example, modern GPS systems have been a game-changer. Older versions gave directions in yards or feet—metrics she couldn’t visualize. But newer systems that use landmarks and visuals are much more intuitive for her.
Even memorizing numbers—like ATM PINs and Social Security numbers—has become easier thanks to music and movement. Randy has learned to “sing and dance” the numbers, breaking them into rhythmic patterns that stick in her memory.
Cooking, another math-heavy activity, has also required adaptation. She now rewrites recipes to follow a logical, personalized sequence and premeasures all ingredients ahead of time, combining steps and directions in a way that suits how she thinks.
Words of Advice
Randy’s story is not just about struggle—it’s also a call to action for parents and educators. Her biggest regret is not being diagnosed earlier, when intervention could have built her confidence rather than eroded it.
Her message is simple: “Let me use manipulatives. Don’t humiliate me. Don’t tell me you’ll ‘work with me’—just understand me. Give me the time to think through it.”
For those working with students, her story is a reminder that intelligence doesn’t always show up in test scores or class rankings. Recognizing learning differences like dyscalculia—and treating them with empathy—can change lives. Randy is proof that it’s never too late to understand your brain and begin healing from years of silent struggle.