Maude Sanon went to the University of South Florida on Monday, filled out an application and got a job.
It may have been one of the biggest accomplishments of her life.
You see, before January 2003, Sanon, who hopes to become a certified nurse's aide, couldn't read or write. A native of Haiti, she focused much of her life on raising her kids since coming to the United States in 1983. Now that her daughters are grown, she decided it was time to put her own life in order.
So Sanon, 49, enrolled in a reading class sponsored by the Hillsborough Literacy Council. On Saturday, she shared her story with a group of tutors and students who were honored at the council's annual appreciation assembly at the Tampa Museum Of Art.
"Now I can read for my granddaughter," said Sanon, beaming like a gameshow contestant who had just won a car.
For confidentiality reasons, the names of other students cannot be used. But their stories are no less moving.
It is no easy task for someone to reverse illiteracy. Shame often prompts them to hide their inability in the shadows. They learn to cope.
In a collection of writings by the adult new readers, one student said attempts to mask his illiteracy made him feel like he was having a heart attack.
"Mine has lasted for 47 years," wrote the student, who referred to himself simply as "L." "It's a lie that you live all the time. You could lose your job because they found out about this. It is very hard to do this. I know because I happen to be a senior manager."
A 70-year-old student explained during his testimonial that when he read to his children he would look at the pictures and improvise words. His sons would go on to graduate, while he kept his secret bottled in silent embarrassment.
Now he speaks of struggles in the past tense.
The literacy council - www.hillsboroughliteracy.org - has provided volunteer assistance to adult nonreaders for the past 18 years. In conjunction with the council, the Tampa-Hillsborough Public Library offers office space, mailing services, a paid part time coordinator and a paid executive secretary.
Most of the instruction occurs in either one-on-one or group sessions at various libraries.
In addition to the basic program, there also is an English as a Second Language program. One of the ESL students explained she was able to become a dental hygienist because of the lessons she learned in the council programs.
"When you come from another country, you're just looking for somebody to listen, to find somebody to help us," she said. "I've found somebody, and I appreciate that."
Equally impressive are the tutors who volunteer their time after going through eight hours of training for the basic program and 12 hours for the ESL program. To get the training, they must commit to working with the students for a year. A year. I would have a difficult time getting friends to commit to free beer and food next week.
But perhaps the commitment is easy to make when you realize the lengths people have gone to overcome illiteracy.
"I think the greatest hurdle they have to get over is coming and asking for help," said Plant City's Sylvia Miller, a 68-year-old tutor who received special recognition for logging more than 1,500 hours.
"They learn to survive as is and not knowing how to read. When you teach them, they see that light early and it makes you feel good."
I was a guest speaker at the assembly, but believe me, I took more than I gave. The testimonials and writings not only lent a greater understanding of the pitfalls of illiteracy, but stirred an appreciation for those willing to change their lives for the better.
