Mountains and Ravines

My Dyslexia and Me

A lake of letters, a wave of words, a sea of synonyms, and a hurricane of homophones. Words, letters, and even whole sentences lift off the page and blow away in the frustrated breath that escapes my lips. Reading makes me dizzy and the noise of fellow classmates gives me a head ache. I can't read with a fan running much less a whisper of another student. My thoughts are fragmented like shattered glass. When put together all they reveal is a confused looking girl with braids in her hair.

I Have Dyslexia.

It doesn't make me dumb. It doesn't make me unteachable. It makes me unstoppable, undefinable, and unwilling to lie down. 

From a young age I knew I was different than most kids. I excelled in some areas but my grades plummeted in others. I had an affinity for math and comprehension. I couldn't read with out struggling threw every word but I knew what I was reading. I could identify theme, plot, and irony before I even knew what those words meant. I would rattle off words and there definitions that kids twice my age hadn't learned but if you showed them written on a piece of paper I would be lost. I was smart this much my family knew. I was oblivious though. My friends could read and write with ease while I was left on my own to sound out words from books that were far to simple to enjoy. Because of my difficultly with penmanship and spelling my answers on test and homework were marked wrong after a single glance. My annoyance with the education system soon enveloped me. I went to my own world when I was praised for my talents by people other than my parents. I made up stories and songs. I would dictate them to my dad and mom and they would write them down for me. My dad and I would sit outside and he would read book after book to me. He didn't make me follow along with my finger, make me read a page, or choose books that are simple. He would read complex books full of adventure. He let me excel in the things I enjoyed and didn't push me far in the things I didn't enjoy. Of course he explained things that didn't make sense to me but never as if I was dumb. From a young age I hated school but loved learning. My dad was patient and kind while teachers were snappish and rude. I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to be able to read on my own. Is that too much for a kid to ask for?