“Don’t want people to know you can’t spell or write? There are plenty of ingenious ways to hide your own shortcomings,” says Don Dority, 59, a log home salesman. “A lot of times, you play like you don’t really care. You cut up in class so you don’t have to be responsible.” Or, he says, “You write sloppy like a doctor does. That way, nobody can tell what you can’t do.”

Don walked into the Teton Literacy Program office after complaining to a friend about his private struggle, that he had a hard time spelling. “I know right where you can go,” his friend told him and, within a week, Don had been matched with tutor Rose Novak.

Rose encouraged him to do a lot of writing, says Don, “I wrote about things that happened in my life, and things that didn’t happen.” Staff members still talk about hurrying to the office so they could be the first to read Don’s stories.

Now Don is more settled in his life, he says, because, “I can put my own words down where I can understand them and other people can, too.” The Teton Literacy Program has meant so much to him that Don has become a donor and one of the Teton Literacy Program’s most outspoken advocates. “I say what I feel,” he says, “I say that I’m proud. I say that if anybody else wants this, it is there for the taking.”

“My biggest challenge,” he says, “was the ability to say I needed help. My biggest challenge was to have the willingness to go ahead and get involved.” What would Don say to someone else in his situation who might be afraid to come forward? “I say this.” He smiles and his words are filled with vigor and conviction. “Then you’ll go ahead and be afraid for the rest of your life.”