Dyslexia; A Challenge, not a Barrier

When people think of the word “Dyslexia” they think of flipping your W’s and M’s. They think that you can’t read, and that words don’t make sense. Never once have I heard that been the case. Never. Little do they know, not one case of dyslexia is ever the same. I would know. Dyslexia makes school a struggle, but everyone knows that… I believe that no matter how hard the task is, it is not impossible.

It was a beautiful wednesday in NYC in early spring of 2008, in Mrs. Ashley’s kindergarten class we were writing poems. My best friend was writing about sparkles and how they glimmered on whatever you put them on. I was writing about… nothing. I wanted to write about flowers and summer and the crazy lady who lived next door, but the words did not come on the paper. I remember every month all the kids in my school would publish a poem into the school poem book. I would read the pre-schoolers poems who would write about their moms and dads, and would write lines like, “I love my mom, dad, and sister.” I would tell myself that their writing was babyish and that I could write triple what they wrote. Still the next month my poem read “I love family.” I was ashamed that that was all I could write, nothing more. I felt like Ms. Ashley’s room was a huge tornado destroying everything in its path, and it was headed right for me. One morning my mom told me we were moving! I was overjoyed to leave the classroom that I struggled in so much.

A month later my family was all settled in! We had a table and a couch, and I even had my own room! But I had forgotten something… I would have to go to a new school. I dreamed of a young teacher with glittery eyes welcoming me into her castle of learning that I would some how totally understand. But before I knew it I was dragging my feet through the front doors of my new school in which I knew not a single soul. As I walked into the classroom the carpet was a mixed grey which was very unattractive. The desks were a bright green and red which made the floor like gloomy and boring. My teachers desk was cluttered and unorganized, with piles and piles of books I was yet to read. As I found my seat a blonde girl and two very cute little boys sat across from me. The blonde girl looked at me suspiciously and whispered “Don’t mind these boys,they are very stupid.” She laughed a little and then sharply glared at the two boys. Suddenly one of the boys winked at me with confidence as if he was going to surely marry me! I was not convinced! On the board there were a big jumble of words that did not make a difference to me. My teacher suddenly shushed us and began to talk. “My name is Mrs. Margent, and we have a lot in store for this year.” She was not a young glittery woman, for she was an elegant older woman that whenever you looked into her eyes, wisdom danced around her pupils. She was not what I had expected, she was somehow way better. Suddenly I realized I had to go to the bathroom. I panicked knowing I had no clue where the bathroom was. I raised my hand anyway and was excused. As I walked down the hall I noticed a bathroom icon of a toilet on the door. What I didn’t see was the “boys” sign that was in large bold letters right above the toilet icon. As I walked in I noticed a low sink that looked extremely unfamiliar, and before I knew it a boy was screaming at me to get out. I cried a lot that day, I knew that that mistake had happened because I couldn’t read the sign. I knew something had to change.

The next week little did I know my teacher was about to save my entire schooling years. She began to give only me special tests, and excuse me from class so I could play learning games on the computer. All those city visits with different therapists and private tutors were over! But I knew there was still much to learn. I was finally reading! My heart pounded every time my tiny hands gripped the page to flip it over to the next. At home one sheet of homework took two hours which was way more than a second grader could handle, and let’s just say I didn’t always handle it that well. I remember the calm look in my fathers eyes as he picked up the pencil that had been thrown, carefully he would place it back down and tell me that throwing was not writing, which I stubbornly nodded too . I can still see my mother pointing over and over again saying “One more time, just try it one more time.” She would tell me there was always a solution even in our roughest times. They helped me through those tough times, they knew my problem, but they acted like it wasn’t there. It gave me strength.

Today I am in a honors math class, and I am above my grade level for reading. Sometimes when homework has defeated me, I think of the motivation that kept me alive and thriving during those rough times. Dyslexia never goes away, but it is my job to overcome it, and not let it affect me negatively, but positively. I have the power to work harder than others and it’s not a challenge. I have been doing it since the first grade! Whenever problems may be hard think about the easy parts you accomplished and how there is a solution to every problem that comes your way. In all something might be hard but it is NEVER impossible.