The Summer Everything Changed: A Childhood Story of Struggle

The Start of My Childhood Struggle

There’s a particular kind of innocence that comes with childhood summers in the 1970s. No cell phones. No video games. Just endless days at the pool, grape soda, sunburned shoulders, and fingers wrinkled from too much time in the water.

My childhood in Lafayette, California, was idyllic in so many ways. My sister and I spent our days across the street at the elementary school playground, playing kickball and hide-and-seek in mustard weeds so tall they felt like forests. We’d head to the swim club in the mornings for practice, race home for lunch, then return to swim and play tennis until the sun went down.

My dad would come home from his San Francisco carpool with jokes to share—the kind that would make us groan and laugh at the same time. “I don’t trust those trees. They seem kind of shady.” My mom filled our summers with the scent of plum jam bubbling on the stove and the rhythmic crack of walnuts from our backyard trees.

Life felt beautifully normal. Until it wasn’t.

The Childhood Conversation That Changed Everything

I was still in kindergarten when it happened—that car ride that would shift my entire world. We were driving in our yellow Oldsmobile when my mom’s voice broke through whatever daydream I was lost in.

“Jeff, honey, you are going to a different school next year.”

The words didn’t make sense. I lived across the street from an outstanding school. My friends from the swim team all went there. I could see the playground from my bedroom window.

“How come?” I asked.

“There is nothing wrong with you, but you are attending a special day class at a different school,” my mom explained.

My dad jumped in to reassure me. “You need some help with reading. Again, nothing is wrong with you; you need some help. You are very smart.”

They kept saying it: Nothing is wrong with you. But if nothing was wrong, why was everything changing?

When Anxiety and Struggle Enters the Picture

At seven years old, I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. I just knew that my stomach felt tight and my thoughts raced with questions that had no answers. Would I make new friends? Would my teacher be nice? What about the big kids—would they pick on me?

Fear and anxiety became unwelcome companions, showing up in ways I’d never experienced before.

My parents, trying to help, signed me up for a recreational baseball team with kids from my new school. It seemed like a good idea—a chance to meet my future classmates before school started. But when I showed up to that first practice and saw those seven- and eight-year-olds on the field, they looked enormous. They all knew each other. They laughed together. And in my mind, they were all potential bullies.

I wrapped my arms around my dad’s legs and held on for dear life. I never made it onto that field. I never went back to that team.

The anxiety had won that round.

Looking Back, Moving Forward

That moment in the yellow Oldsmobile was the beginning of a journey I didn’t choose but had to walk anyway. It was the first time I learned that life doesn’t always follow the script we imagine, that sometimes we’re asked to be brave before we feel ready, and that the people who love us don’t always have all the answers—but they show up anyway.

This is where my story begins. Not in the summer days at the pool or the games of hide-and-seek in the mustard weeds, but in that uncomfortable space between what was and what would be. In the gap between “nothing is wrong with you” and the unnamed something that meant everything had to change.

This is an excerpt adapted from the first chapter of my book, Fish Out of Water. If this story resonates with you, I’d encourage you to see my book. I would also love to hear about a moment in your childhood when everything changed. Share your thoughts in the comments below.

If you are struggling with dyslexia or know someone who is, I encourage you to learn more online and in print. See the International Dyslexia Association or the Dyslexia Foundation.