Work Text:
Paul was about to walk into the breakroom when he heard one of his coworkers speaking.
"The kid’s just so damn dumb. Can't even remember his classmates' names, or when work is due. How is he in your class?"
Walking into the room Paul saw the speaker was an English teacher for the grade below him. They hadn't spoken to each other but Paul thought his name was Smith.
"Yeah I've got him. He keeps asking me how to get to his classes. I know it's only the third day of the school year, but the kid should have learned the hallways by now. He was in the school last year too. Still doesn't even know my name, but I heard from his teachers last year he never learned theirs either. Honestly, how did he get this far?"
How could they talk about a student that way? Did they really think it was okay? Paul hoped they at least knew better than to say this shit in front of the kid in question. He put his lunch in the microwave while he listened to them. Trouble with name's, date's, and direction.
"I know. Have you seen the kid's handwriting yet? Can't even make out half of it, and the stuff you can is backwards half the time!"
"His numbers are no better."
Poor handwriting and backwards letters and numbers.
"How's his reading time? Out loud I mean." Paul asked glaring at the two. They jumped in their seats, having not noticed him walk in.
"Oh uh. Pretty slow. Maybe a paragraph a minuet, and he stumbles over most of the words. At least that's what I heard from his last English teacher. They told me not to bother trying to call on the kid in class it would just slow the class down."
Paul frowned at them both as he pulled out his lunch.
"Have you read his file? Sounds to me like he has dyslexia." Paul sat down across from the two.
"Oh yeah I think he said something about that on the first day, but that only explains the trouble reading." Smith said, rolling his eyes.
"No it explains everything else too. Dyslexia affects every part of a person's life. There's a reason it's a disability." Paul said calmly. Every demigod he spoke to had the same stories about school, and not just them every dyslexic child that walked into his class did too.
By the time they reached his class so many other teachers had failed them that they had given up. He worked so hard to earn their trust and hated handing them over to a new teacher the next year. Their files stated they were to be given aid that many of them were so shocked to receive like their past teachers never bothered. Listening to these two idiots talk he understood why.
"At least one of the children in your class has a disability and instead of doing your job and helping them learn your what? Complaining about them to other teachers? Do you talk to the child in question like this?"
Smith tried to speak, but Paul just kept going. Pushing on like Annabeth always did when she knew she was right.
"A quick Google search, which you can do at your desk, would reveal a lot about dyslexia. However, sitting down and coming up with a plan with the student would work even better. I'm sure his file says he needs to be given extra time on tests, or have them read aloud to him, have you talked about how to accommodate that? Or, since you know time management is difficult for him, how to make it easier to remember when work is due or a planned test is coming up. If handwritten work is hard for you to read. Have you spoken to them about finding a way to use the schools computers to type work up instead, or did you just write them off? Did you just wash your hands of a child who needs help?"
The two teachers slouched in their chairs lookin anywhere but at Paul. Rolling his eye's Paul ate his lunch, and left the two to think about their choices. In the meantime Paul needed to plan. The child needed help, because he already knew he was dyslexic he should have a class with a teacher to help him learn to work with it. Paul would need to swing by the class and inform the teacher about these two, the thought made him glare at them again, and ask if there was a way they could help.
Even in the classes they tended to only focus on what would help the kids in class, but hopefully if Paul brought it up the teacher would be willing to help. He also needed to talk with the Princable. If these teachers were willing to say this stuff in the breakroom Paul worried about how they spoke to children in the classroom. Children tended to not report things their teachers did wrong, because there wasn't really a known way they could. Finishing his lunch he packed up, and left to set up meetings with one last glare at the two. He had work to do.