For English teacher Simon Ticot, using the whiteboard involves much more than merely making marks with a pen. The process requires a set of typed notes to copy, plenty of time and intense concentration. Not easy with 30 expectant faces in front of you.

Spelling tests are as tough. He is unlikely to write 10 or 15 words without making a mistake, so he asks students to select their own lists of words to learn and types them up after the lesson. After the test, it’s the students who write the correct answers on the board.

The 43-year-old, who teaches at the Robert Napier school in Gillingham, Kent, started teaching in 1998 after a career in theatre carpentry. “I always knew I had a problem with spelling,” he says. “And there was always this discrepancy between what I said and what I was able to put down on paper.” But not until he was about to embark on a teaching career did he address his difficulties. A British Dyslexia Association assessment confirmed his suspicions - he was dyslexic. “I found out that my reading speed is about half what it should be,” he explains. “The average reading speed for a graduate is about 250 words a minute. Mine is around 125 - the speed at which most people read aloud.”

He first became aware of his difficulties at secondary school. After failing his 11-plus, he attended a high school in Kent, leaving at the earliest opportunity. “School was frustrating,” he recalls. “Teachers expected a lot more of me than I could produce, and I didn’t write well. It took an incredible amount of effort to get anything written down and it was always messy, full of spelling mistakes.” He was able to vent his frustration through sport, excelling at cricket, squash and athletics. He left school with one O-level and a handful of CSEs.

After school came a stint in the merchant navy before his career in theatre carpentry. In the mid-Eighties, Mr Ticot returned to studying. He began with O-level English. “I loved it. It became the most important thing in my life. The tutor was brilliant - really inspiring - but always pointed out I had a problem with spelling, encouraging me to use the spell check facility on the word processor when I could. I remember asking her if she thought I was dyslexic. ‘Of course you are,’ she told me. But it didn’t put me off.”

After success at O-level (he achieved a grade A), he went on to A-level, “the biggest, most difficult hurdle”. He achieved a grade E and was turned down for an English degree course. Undeterred, he spent hours convincing an admissions officer to let him on the course, achieving a 2:2 degree and later progressing on to a PGCE course. “I’m only where I am today because of word processing,” he admits. “I wouldn’t have been able to achieve academically without it. And I wouldn’t be able to function as a teacher.”

His lesson notes are usually prepared on overhead transparencies, and any writing on the board is typed out in advance. “I use the board sparingly,” he says. “But not a week goes by without students pointing out that I’ve spelled something wrong. I tell some of my older students that I’m dyslexic and explain that I will spell things incorrectly on the board, but it doesn’t mean I won’t notice if they misspell words. With younger and less able students, I use it as an opportunity for learning, asking them to correct my spelling. It gives them a sense of achievement.”

But he admits there is still a lot of prejudice surrounding dyslexia. “It’s difficult for non-dyslexics to understand the amount of effort that goes into a seemingly simple task,” he explains. But colleagues have provided tremendous support. Nevertheless, he can’t help feeling he is in a minority. He knows of other dyslexic teachers in his area, but not of any national body to support them. “For many people the words ‘teacher’ and ‘dyslexia’ just don’t go together,” he says.

The British Dyslexia Association’s director of education, Lindsey Peer, agrees. “There is a lot of misunderstanding about dyslexia,” she says. “But being dyslexic doesn’t stop someone from being a great teacher. Teachers come here from abroad, often with limited English, and they are not prevented from teaching. But many dyslexics feel they are, particularly with the new eligibility tests for training courses.”

Since 1999, trainee teachers have had to sit tests in literacy and numeracy before gaining qualified teacher status. “Although there is additional time available for dyslexic students, most would find the tests difficult to pass. It means there are many gifted, able and talented teachers unable to teach, which seems crazy considering the national shortage of teachers,” says Ms Peer, adding: “A dyslexic teacher will have had to develop specific study skills, which are valuable and can be shared with pupils.”

But it’s not just about achievement; attitudes to learning are as important. Mr Ticot says he can empathise with his students when learning frustrates them, which is particularly helpful in his role as head of year. “I remember one open evening, a dyslexic student and his parents came to see me,” he recalls. “They’d just had a difficult meeting with an English teacher. I said, ‘Look, I’m dyslexic, too. I know that every time you spell something wrong it feels like someone’s slapped you in the face.’

“Suddenly, this boy felt he was no longer in an alien world, which is exactly how being dyslexic can feel.”

As Lindsey Peer says: “Being taught by a dyslexic is great for building self-esteem. If your teacher is dyslexic, you can look at him or her and say, ‘They’ve made it through the system, so can I.’ That’s so inspiring.”