Ruthlyn James | The illiterate engineer

Many successful Jamaican men live among us with a hidden shame. Some build houses, repair engines, wire communities, and raise families out of poverty through talent, innovation, sacrifice, and strong entrepreneurial skills. Yet they quietly live with a lifelong fear that society might one day uncover their secret, something they have struggled with since childhood: the ability to read. 

For some men, literacy has never signified a lack of intelligence, but they carry a silent wound. I learned this truth through my own father, who was dyslexic yet became a successful engineer and haulage contractor. He never allowed us to experience poverty despite being illiterate. What changed the course of his future was not the school system but the radical thinking of a Jamaican father who refused to accept that his son was a “dunce”. 

At 13 years old, my grandfather took him out of traditional school and placed him at a garage in Riverton City to learn mechanical engineering under the mentorship of a retired police officer. That decision ultimately saved my father's life because long before Jamaica began discussing neurodiversity, learning disabilities, accommodations, or inclusion, a Jamaican father already understood something profound: intelligence and literacy are not the same thing.

My father, Neville Coombs, could understand engines that most men could not comprehend. He could solve intricate mechanical problems instinctively and create practical solutions with his hands and mind, yet he struggled to spell his own name. For years, I did not fully realise the extent of his difficulty until Jamaica introduced stricter literacy requirements for driver’s licence renewal. That was when my father quietly confided in me the shame he had borne for decades.  He feared losing his independence to drive his trucks, knowing his deficits in identifying letters and their sounds, and that moment stayed with me forever.

In Jamaica today, many still face public shame if they are perceived to be illiterate, with some being compelled to exit their vehicles to read aloud by police. These moments may seem procedural to some, but psychologically, they can be humiliating and dehumanising for adults who have spent decades concealing undiagnosed dyslexia. The dangerous assumption underlying these interactions is that if you struggle to read, you must somehow be incompetent.

Research does not support that belief. There is no evidence suggesting that dyslexic individuals are automatically unsafe drivers. Many dyslexic adults successfully navigate the demands of daily life by relying on strengths such as visual-spatial reasoning, route memory, pattern recognition, and real-world problem-solving skills. For some severely dyslexic individuals, years of reading intervention may still not result in age-appropriate reading levels. However, a multisensory approach and alternative learning strategies can improve competence, confidence, and access, especially with early intervention. Dyslexia is a lifelong condition, and, in many families, hereditary.

Many children are kept below their expected level, losing access to learning opportunities and curriculum content. A child who cannot independently read print is often excluded from science, history, geography, literature, and technical subjects. This reading difficulty eventually becomes a broader learning difficulty not because the child lacks intelligence but because their access to the curriculum has been limited.

Dyslexia is not an intellectual disability. It is a specific learning disorder in a person with an average or exceptional intelligence. Yet Jamaica still operates with deeply outdated ideas. Reading is a skill; intelligence is human potential. What if my grandfather had relied on the Jamaican academic framework and had not believed in his son’s ability? While competency-based training has expanded opportunities, Grade 9 literacy requirements in vocational training programmes continue to act as a gatekeeper for some highly skilled individuals whose abilities may far exceed their reading level.

Many talented Jamaicans still face limitations due to a lack of understanding about neurodevelopment, especially within exam systems. Schools continue to rely heavily on reading, writing, and timed responses to assess competence across different neurotypes. Some educators worry that accommodations undermine integrity, but when properly applied, they do not change standards. They merely remove barriers. A public statement from a 2025 JIS interview with a vocational ‘special education’ school notes that candidates with special needs wishing to enroll should be at least 17 years old and have reading and comprehension skills comparable to Grade 7.

If Jamaica values inclusion, we need to expand our understanding of achievement. If a child can explain, innovate, create, present, and critically examine content, then they are demonstrating learning. Jamaica repeatedly speaks of developing a globally competitive workforce, but do we understand diversity, or are we still building literacy policies around a narrow model of learning? Because literacy is central to nation-building, accommodations for citizens with specific learning disabilities must also be central to it.

This is why assistive technology matters. Text-to-speech devices should be accepted during the learning process, examinations, and used as lifelong tools for adults navigating employment, licensing systems, healthcare, banking, and independent living. What it offers is access, dignity, and the ability to operate within systems that were never designed for the way their brains process written language. 

Reading proficiency is an important educational skill, but it is not the same as intelligence, competence, leadership, or creativity. Human cognition involves multiple interacting systems rather than a single unified capacity. A person with grade 1 reading skills may still be capable of managing staff. So, is our traditional educational framework sophisticated enough to recognise intelligence when it does not show up khaki-clad in literacy? Are we genuinely including neurodivergent citizens, or are we marginalising them?  

Reforming vocational enrolment and examinations must become a national priority. Jamaican law labelled my father an illiterate. But he built a business, employed workers, and contributed to the economy. Perhaps saving our children from the stigmatising label of 'illiterate' requires us to be a little more radical like my grandfather.

Ruthlyn James is the founding director of Adonijah Group of Schools Therapy and Assessment Centre. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.