My Thirteenth Winter

Published in 2003, My Thirteenth Winter is a memoir by Samantha Abeel that tackles the ways in which she has struggled with dyscalculia, a learning disorder that affects numbers and logical thinking. Abeel’s story is unusual because she is what is called a 2-E student, meaning “doubly exceptional.” In other words, she doesn’t simply have a learning disability – she is also gifted in other areas, most notably language and writing. By portraying the way an intellectually talented student can mask areas of difficulty, Abeel is hoping to help others suffering from the same issues feel less alone and to give a sense of the internal processes of individuals like her to teachers.

Although dyscalculia is a spectrum disorder and those affected experience it differently, the book begins with a useful summary of what exactly dyscalculia means for Samantha. “I am twenty-five years old and I can’t tell time. I struggle with dialing phone numbers, counting money, balancing my checkbook, tipping at restaurants, following directions, understanding distances, and applying basic math to my everyday life. I also struggle with spelling and grammar and remembering combinations of movements in athletics and dance.” Before taking us back to her childhood, Abeel stresses that this learning disability doesn’t simply disappear after school and college are over.

She gives examples from several grades. In second grade, she couldn’t grasp the idea of hours and minutes. No matter how many different visual examples she saw, she couldn’t understand the concept of fractions. She recalls a humiliating experience about a teacher promising the class ice cream once all the students had finished a math worksheet. No matter how hard she tried, Abeel simply couldn’t do the problems. Eventually, when the teacher took pity on her and let her have ice cream despite not getting through the sheet, Abeel felt even worse at being so incapable.

When describing what school was like for her, Abeel highlights the difference between the way she excelled in subjects like English and the way she couldn’t begin to grasp the simplest tasks in math. No matter how supportive her parents were, her teachers and school administrators simply couldn’t figure out the problem. As Abeel points out, she probably could have benefited from a combination of advanced and remedial classes, but her confusing test scores and ability levels prevented her from being placed in either class type. This led Abeel to feel guilt and self-doubt, until eventually she stumbled onto a variety of coping mechanisms and tricks she used to get through classes without actually learning or understanding what was being taught.

The breaking point came in high school algebra, the first class where Abeel’s various ways of hiding her problem no longer worked. After another round of testing, she finally qualified for special education. The change was transformative not only in terms of her ability to handle the material, but emotionally as well. Finally, she didn’t feel stupid or alone – instead, she was surrounded by other kids for whom the same material was also a challenge. Of course, she was immediately confronted by the biases of other people who looked down at anyone in special education as somehow less than.

Emboldened by small steps towards success in this area, Abeel was free to flourish in other subject areas as well. Her aptitude for English blossomed into a talent for writing poetry and prose. She published short pieces in the school newspaper and even in a national student writing magazine. To encourage her, one of her teachers introduced her to an artist friend. Together, they collaborated on a book: Abeel wrote a series of poems, and the artist provided illustrations. After Abeel’s mom helped get this book published, Abeel’s story started becoming better known. She was invited to speak at conferences about her learning disability and was able to give voice to the struggle of many others like her.

Still, the book doesn’t simply end on this falsely uplifting note. Again, Abeel points out that managing a learning disability like dyscalculia isn’t the same thing as curing it. She describes a difficult experience trying to be good at a summer job that she simply couldn’t perform, the continued problems she faced in college trying to fulfill the school’s requirements, and a very brief dive into what learning disability understanding is like in other countries when describing her semester abroad in Israel. Abeel frankly describes her bouts of depression and the anxiety that triggered panic attacks so severe they would end in vomiting.

The memoir ends with a note of balance: Abeel has come to accept her limitations as a part of herself that she will always have to deal with, but one that won’t stop her from trying to reach her goals.