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MANTUA, N.J. - A renowned studio glass artist and teacher, Paul Stankard's floral glass paperweights and botanical sculptures reside in the permanent collections of the foremost museums in America - the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, the Art Institute of Chicago and the Smithsonian Institution.

Internationally, his works are permanently displayed in leading museums in London, Paris, Scotland, Denmark, Japan and Taiwan.

And, yet, Stankard, 64, grew up in North Attleboro thinking he was irreparably stupid.

"I was educated at a time when little was known about learning problems, and my 14 years in school was distorted by undiagnosed dyslexia," he said. "I learned to trust those teachers who encouraged me to persevere."

Stankard grew up in an Irish American household, the second oldest of 9 children. His parents promoted success in school as a "solemn duty, one notch below being a good Catholic." "I remember my mother saying, 'The better educated you are, the better you'll be able to help the less fortunate,' and in my adolescent mind, every time I heard that point of view, I felt bad, thinking I wouldn't be able to help people, because I was stupid in school," he said.

He has completed a deeply personal book titled "No Green Berries or Leaves - The Creative Journey of an Artist in Glass," which shares fond memories of growing up in North Attleboro with anecdotes about events like the annual Attleboro Falls Firemen's Bonfire and Carnival.

At 13, he won by a carnival coin toss, a red plastic rose shimmering and magnified in a water-filled glass bowl. This child's gift to his mother remained on her dresser for the next 43 years until she died at age 88. Stankard suggests in the upcoming book that his delicate red rose under glass - combined with the monster fire - ignited in his subconscious mind his future and sealed his destiny for life.

Stankard just gave the graduation address at Muskingum College in New Concord, Ohio, the second school to award him an honorary doctor of fine arts degree.

SUN CHRONICLE: Tell me about your elementary education.

PAUL STANKARD: For my book, I recently retrieved my grammar school records, and was both surprised and saddened to learn that my first IQ score was very low. My grammar school years were not that difficult, because I was nearly invisible in the large classes that averaged 43 to 45 students.

In the 1950s, the good sisters of Saint Mary's parochial school in North Attleboro managed their classrooms with loving kindness and a wooden pointer, and if you were identified as a poor student but were well behaved, you were left alone. This contributed to my failing the third grade and being put on probation in the fifth grade, which resulted in being tutored on school nights by my mother. My poor performance in school was responsible for my having low self esteem, and as sad as it sounds, I was jealous of the smart kids.

SUN CHRONICLE: What was reading like for you?

PAUL STANKARD: Reading was like torture. I was constantly being corrected for repeating the same mistakes. Simple words like 'was' I read as 'saw' and I couldn't distinguish 'N' from 'M' among other challenges.

In math, I transposed numbers, and the most embarrassing deficiency was not being able to distinguish right from left. In the 7th grade, I made my right index finger raw by repeatedly scratching it in order to feel my right hand. My parents thought I had a nervous tick and constantly told me to quit picking at my finger. SUN CHRONICLE: You mention Walt Whitman and a love for poetry that inspires your wonderful glass art work, how did that come about?

PAUL STANKARD: My mother had me read poetry aloud. My mom would first recite the poem and then I would read it. With my good memorization skills, I could sound out the words and connect them to the rhythmic flow of the poem. Often I could identify the poem's idea, and took great satisfaction in my small successes in reading.

Outside of school, I was fascinated with nature, especially the native flowers, and I treasure my memories of working in the garden with my father and grandfather. I loved being a Boy Scout and learning how to be self reliant in the woods. As an artist, these childhood memories became the bedrock of my creative vision, and I've been enlivened by feelings of God's primal sanity in nature. Like Walt Whitman, I believe that this timeless quality touches our souls.

SUN CHRONICLE: You've had a series of epiphanies in your life. What was the first?

PAUL STANKARD: You know how sometimes, one little event, one small experience, can make a profound difference in the course of a life?

In high school, Mrs. Reid, my English teacher for three years running, would often read books out loud to the class for 15 to 20 minutes at a time. Her reading out loud allowed me to experience the classics in a way that I couldn't have done otherwise.

Years later, in the mid-70s, the Franklin Mint was offering 'The Greatest Books Ever Written' on audio cassettes. I ordered the series and became enthralled listening to the quarterly installments. I credit Mrs. Reid with introducing me to a great joy that actually changed my life. She cultivated a love of literature in me that celebrates the power of the spoken and written word.

SUN CHRONICLE: You grew up painfully, not knowing you had dyslexia. When did that second epiphany come?

PAUL STANKARD: In 1972, I left working in the factory environment to be creative. By good fortune, I turned on the radio and heard an interview with Olympic-gold medalist Bruce Jenner. Jenner was discussing how, as a poor student and reader in middle school, he was diagnosed with dyslexia.

Fascinated, I stopped working and focused on every word that was being said. It was a "Eureka!" moment, because I thought Jenner was talking about me, and now, after all these years, I discovered the reason I was a poor student, and this meant I wasn't stupid!

After learning that there was a neurological basis for my inability to process information like most people, I knew my passion could outwit my brain, and I could be successful with what God gave me.

SUN CHRONICLE: Despite being a poor student, you respected education, so how did you educate yourself?

PAUL STANKARD: I listen to the radio when I work, and I happened to tune into a program on National Public Radio that was discussing excellence in the arts. The speaker was discussing art making, and said, "In order to do excellent work, you have to know what excellence is." She recommended experiencing classical music, literature and art history. A powerful thought. This attitude was empowering as I thereafter sought out great works to educate and inform myself and my art.

SUN CHRONICLE: And with technology, came greater expression, vision and choice?

PAUL STANKARD: Fast forward to the late 1980s, when a major intellectual breakthrough occurred for me. I became a member of the non-profit organization Recordings for the Blind and Dyslexic, and my world expanded with access to the organization's library of over 90,000 unabridged books on tape.

Two special books, "How to Read and Why" and The Western Canon," both by Harold Bloom, gave me a seemly endless reading list. These two thought-provoking books introduced me to great literature that celebrate the mysteries surrounding sex, death and God, which have become the primary themes woven into my artistic vision.

For a person who once couldn't read, I now can say I've read from Homer to Walt Whitman to James Joyce, and I enjoy discussing my favorite books from the nearly 200 mostly classics I've read. With each book listened to, I ceremoniously place a copy on my living room library shelf to symbolize a victory over past challenges.

SUN CHRONICLE: In teaching, have you encountered young artists who also performed poorly in the usual school work?

PAUL STANKARD: It's not uncommon to meet talented studio artists who have experienced poor academic performance due to disinterest in school or learning disabilities. I love how creativity allows people to reach their full potential in life, and how this fascinating ingredient distinguishes humans from other living creatures.

SUN CHRONICLE: What are your most cherished memories of North Attleboro?

PAUL STANKARD: My fondest memories as a child are picking blueberries. When I would take my blueberries home, my mother would look into the container and say, "Paul, you're a good blueberry picker because you don't have any green berries or leaves in your bucket." Then, she would bake the best blueberry pie, ever.

I've written a poem titled, "No Green Berries or Leaves," which is dedicated to my mother's memory. It also will be the title of my book. This is how it goes:

Walking north

along the tracks

past Lily pond,

thistles mark

the narrow path

through grass

moist in morning dew.

To the blueberry woods,

where filling a quart container

brought praise

for no green berries or leaves,

as a mother smiled

on a child's labor.

Now gathering blueberries

like a prayer

the first taste

a communion,

the mystery shared.