Transforming Math Education for Dyslexic Students Using the Orton-Gillingham Method
- Susan Ardila
- Apr 30
- 9 min read
When Math Feels Like a Foreign Language
Let me guess—you’ve watched your kid stare at a math worksheet like it was written in ancient Greek. They’re bright (like… freakishly insightful in some areas), but when it comes to math? Suddenly it’s like their brain just… exits the chat.
And here you are, wondering if you're missing something. (You’re not.)
Here’s what no one tells you loud enough: math is a language. Yep. Just like reading. It has rules, symbols, structure, and a whole lot of hidden grammar that we assume kids just “pick up.” Spoiler alert: they don’t. Especially not our neurodivergent learners.
If your child has dyslexia, ADHD, dyscalculia—or heck, just learns a little differently—chances are the way they’ve been taught math feels like being handed IKEA instructions written in wingdings.
This is where Orton-Gillingham comes in. You’ve probably heard of it in the context of reading, and yes, it’s gold there. But guess what? The same exact approach—the one that breaks things down, layers them up, and makes learning stick—can completely change the game in math.
And I’m going to show you how. Not just in theory, but with real examples of real kids (who sound a whole lot like yours) finally clicking with math in a way that doesn’t feel painful or humiliating.
So if your kid has ever said, “I’m just bad at math,” grab a snack and stick with me. Because we’re about to prove them—and the system—wrong.
Reading and Math—Same Struggle, Different Font
Here’s a wild thought: maybe your kid doesn’t hate math. Maybe they just don’t speak it.
Because honestly, we teach math like it’s this cold, emotionless subject that lives in a textbook—and then act surprised when kids feel completely disconnected from it. But math? It’s full of rhythm, structure, logic, and yes… language.
Think about how we teach kids to read. We don’t toss a novel in their lap and expect them to just figure it out. We start small. We teach sounds, blend them, build meaning. There’s a process—and it’s structured, sequential, and layered.
Now think about math. We expect kids to memorize facts, follow multi-step algorithms, and solve problems in their head without ever teaching the rules underneath. Imagine learning to read without understanding phonics. That’s how most kids are taught math.
I once worked with a student who could tell me everything about sharks but froze when faced with 15 – 7. Not because he couldn’t count—but because no one had ever helped him see what subtraction actually meant.
So we ditched the worksheets and started building it—literally. Counters, movements, visuals, number lines, tapping it out. And you could see it happen—the lights came on. He realized that math wasn’t some random guessing game—it was a system. A language. And once he had the tools to decode it? He started speaking it.
The way Orton-Gillingham breaks down reading? That same structured, explicit, multisensory magic can do wonders in math. It’s about understanding the why, not just drilling the how.
Because your kid isn’t slow. Or lazy. Or “not a math person.”They’re just being taught in a language they haven’t been given the chance to learn.
Why Orton-Gillingham Works for Math—Not Just Reading
If you’ve ever seen your child finally “get” something using Orton-Gillingham in reading—like when they realize silent e isn’t just being rude, it’s doing a job—you already know what a game-changer OG can be.
But here’s what most people don’t know: OG doesn’t have to stop at phonics. It works just as beautifully for math—and honestly, it might be the thing your child has needed all along.
Let me paint the picture: traditional math instruction = “Here’s a formula. Don’t ask why. Just memorize it, trust the process, and don’t mess it up.”OG-style math = “Let’s figure out what this even means before we expect you to do it.”
See the difference?
Here’s why this works, especially for kids with dyslexia, dyscalculia, ADHD, or just… kids who learn like real humans:
It’s explicit. We don’t assume kids “get it” because we told them once or showed it on a worksheet. We teach the concept, the steps, the language, and the why. We name the process. We model the thinking. We say the quiet part out loud.
It’s structured and cumulative. OG doesn’t jump around like a squirrel on espresso. It builds slowly, layer by layer. Think bricks, not Jenga. Each new concept stacks onto something that’s already been mastered. It’s math with scaffolding—not a leap of faith.
It’s multisensory. This is where it gets fun. We don’t just say “carry the one.” We touch it. We move with it. We might clap it, draw it, build it. I once had a student who finally understood place value because we used dry beans, yarn, and some wildly questionable art skills on my part. Whatever works. The point is—we get it out of their heads and into their hands.
It’s emotionally safe. This one might be the most important. OG math invites mistakes. It teaches kids to try, reflect, and refine. We’re not grading every wrong turn—we’re learning from it. It teaches metacognition in a way that builds confidence, not performance anxiety.
Let me introduce you to Talia, one of my all-time favorite students. Sixth grade. Dyslexic, ADHD, a little spicy (my kind of girl). She had been in tears over math so many times her mom couldn’t even say “division” without her shutting down. Her teachers assumed she wasn’t trying. Truth? She was trying so hard she was exhausted.
When we started working together, I used OG-style instruction from the start. I didn’t care how far “behind” she was. I needed her to feel safe. We used manipulatives, movement, story problems that actually made sense (no, I’m not making her figure out how many pineapples Brenda bought if Brenda isn’t even relevant to her life). We built from the ground up.
And something beautiful happened.
She started asking questions.
Real ones. The kind of questions kids ask when they finally feel like it’s okay to be curious.
And when she stood up in class one day and explained why ¾ is bigger than ⅖ using a visual model—after being the kid who used to cry at the mention of math—her mom messaged me and said, “I don’t even recognize this confident version of her. But I love her.”
That’s the OG effect.
It’s not a hack.
It’s not a trick.
It’s just what happens when we stop trying to force kids into a one-size-fits-all system and finally teach them in a way that makes sense for their brains.
OG math makes math accessible. It builds understanding. And most of all—it gives your child a reason to believe they actually can do this.
Because they can.
👋 Quick note before we dive into the next section:If you’re already thinking, “Okay, this is exactly what my kid needs,” let’s talk.
I offer free consultations through MindBridge Math Mastery to help parents like you figure out what’s going on beneath the surface—and what kind of support will actually work.
👉 Click here to book a free consultation and let’s make a game plan together.
The Hidden Grammar of Math (That No One’s Teaching)
Let’s talk about something no one talks about: math has grammar.
Yep. Just like sentences have nouns and verbs and punctuation rules, math has its own internal structure. But instead of teaching it like a language—with rules, patterns, and logic—we often treat it like a bunch of random steps kids are supposed to memorize without question.
And then we wonder why it doesn’t stick.
Here’s the thing: most kids aren’t struggling with math because it’s too hard. They’re struggling because no one ever taught them the hidden rules that make math make sense. They’re being asked to write essays without learning how to build a sentence first.
Here’s what I mean by “math grammar”:
Place value is like spelling—if you don’t understand the position of a number, you’ll misread it every time.
The order of operations is your punctuation—it tells you when to pause, what to do first, and how the whole “sentence” fits together.
Number sense is vocabulary—without it, you’re just guessing.
Equations? Those are sentences. Variables are the pronouns. And parentheses? They’re the parentheses. (Okay, that one’s the same.)
Most math curriculums? They skip right over all of this. They assume that kids magically absorb these rules while doing worksheets and timed tests. (Spoiler alert: neurodiverse kids do not learn by osmosis.)
This is where OG-style math instruction shines.
We teach the hidden rules explicitly. We give math context. We model it out loud:
“Okay, we’re starting with the parentheses because those are like our math ‘first responders.’ They get called in before anyone else touches the problem.”
Or:
“We’re multiplying before we add, because math has a ‘chain of command,’ and multiplication outranks addition in this army.”
And suddenly? That “order of operations” mess isn’t so mysterious anymore.
One of my students once asked me, ‘Why do I have to bring the number down? Where is it even going?’ That moment stuck with me—because it was so honest. He didn’t need more steps. He needed meaning.
We went back to the basics. Built division with manipulatives. Talked about what division actually is—sharing, grouping, relationships between numbers. We created stories, acted them out, and broke apart word problems like we were detectives. Once he got the why, the how came naturally.
He wasn’t being “lazy” or “forgetful.” He just needed the grammar manual.
And guess what? When we gave it to him, he flew.
Because when kids are taught to understand math—not just do it—they gain something way more valuable than a correct answer.
They gain fluency.
Confidence.
And a voice in a subject that once made them feel invisible.
So no, your child isn’t “behind.” They’re just waiting for someone to teach them the actual rules of the game.
And once they have them? They can play.
Why This Matters for Students with Dyslexia, Dyscalculia, and ADHD
Look, I’m just gonna say it—our kids are working twice as hard for half the results in classrooms that were never designed with their brains in mind.
They’re not failing math. Math is failing them.
If your child has dyslexia, dyscalculia, ADHD—or any combo of the three—you already know the emotional toll math can take. It’s not just about numbers. It’s about identity. Confidence. Belonging.
You’ve seen it: the eye rolls, the stomachaches, the “I’m just stupid” comments that crush your soul a little more each time. And what makes it worse? The fact that deep down, you know your kid is smart. Like, scary-smart in ways that don’t show up on a math test.
So here’s the truth I want you to hold onto: when we teach math through an Orton-Gillingham lens, we’re not just helping kids learn math—we’re helping them reclaim their brilliance.
Let’s break it down:
Kids with dyslexia often have incredible reasoning and big-picture thinking, but they struggle with sequencing, working memory, and language processing. OG math slows it down, structures it up, and removes the guessing game. No more mystery steps or "just do it this way because I said so."
Kids with dyscalculia aren’t missing a “math gene.” They’re missing conceptual groundwork that should’ve been explicitly taught and reinforced over time. OG math gives them the building blocks and the time to build something real.
And kids with ADHD? They thrive when there’s movement, rhythm, novelty, and purpose. OG math gives them that. It keeps them engaged with tactile tools, verbal processing, clear routines, and real-world connection.
When we teach math this way—step-by-step, brain-based, and compassion-first—our kids feel safe to try. They take risks. They begin to separate “I can’t do this” from “I just haven’t been taught this in a way I understand… yet.”
One of my students, Layla, once told me she felt like math was a game everyone else knew how to play, but she never got the rulebook. So we made her one.
We created her “math moves” playbook—her visual strategies, her go-to tricks, her personal cheat codes. By the end of the year, she wasn’t just catching up—she was leading. Explaining things to other kids. Asking smart, challenging questions. Owning her space.
This isn’t magic. This is what happens when instruction meets actual cognitive science and actual human empathy.
This is what happens when we stop trying to make kids fit the system—and build a system that fits the kid.
So if your child is shutting down in math, it’s not too late. They don’t need more pressure. They need more clarity. More structure. More connection.They need math that finally speaks their language.
And when they get it?
Watch out, world.
Final Thoughts and Next Steps
Here’s what I want you to take away from all of this:
Your child isn’t broken.
They’re not lazy.
They’re not “just not a math person.”
They’ve just been trying to learn a complicated language… without a translator.
And you? You’ve been trying to help without a roadmap. No wonder it’s been exhausting.
But now you know the truth: math can be decoded—just like reading—when we teach it through the right lens.
A lens that’s structured, intentional, multisensory, compassionate, and actually aligned with how neurodivergent brains process information.
That’s what the Orton-Gillingham approach to math brings to the table.
So whether your child has dyslexia, dyscalculia, ADHD, or just hasn’t had that click moment yet—this approach doesn’t just make math possible. It makes it meaningful. Empowering. Even (dare I say it?) fun.
And if no one’s told you this yet today:
You’re doing an amazing job.
The fact that you’re here, reading this, looking for something better for your child? That matters.
Now, if you're curious about how OG-style math instruction could look for your child specifically—or you're just tired of Googling your way through another meltdown—let’s talk. No pressure, no commitment. Just real conversation about real support.
Because you don’t have to figure this out alone.
And neither does your child.
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