Table tennis started as a small, intentional part of my dyslexia therapy—who knew it would turn into a trophy-winning journey? What began as practice to sharpen my hand-eye-brain coordination (and fix the skipping lines or words that tripped me up when reading) soon grew into something I looked forward to more than anything.
Every week, I’d grab a paddle not for “treatment,” but because hitting the ball back and forth felt like fun, not work. At first, I fumbled a lot—my eyes would mix up the ball’s speed, my hands would lag behind my brain—but slowly, the coordination clicked. The same focus that helped me track the pingpong ball mid-air started spilling over into reading: I stopped skipping lines as much, and words felt less like jumbled puzzle pieces. But the biggest surprise? My coach noticed how hard I was trying and asked if I wanted to join the school’s table tennis team. I said yes before he even finished talking.
Before long, I was practicing with the team after school, refining my serves and learning to read my opponents’ moves. Then came the big news: we’d be representing the school at the Shanghai International Schools Tournament. On the day of the competition, my hands shook a little when I stepped up to the table, but I thought of all those therapy sessions—how far I’d come from fumbling the ball to standing here. My teammates and I cheered each other on, high-fiving after every point, and when the final match ended, the scoreboard showed we’d won first place in the team category.
Holding that trophy, I smiled—this wasn’t just a win for the team. It was proof that something meant to help me with dyslexia had become a source of pride, a hobby I loved, and a reminder that growth can happen in the most unexpected ways. What started as therapy had turned into a victory, both on and off the pingpong table.
