As a child growing up my parents noticed I had difficulties learning how to read and spell. It wasn't that big of a problem until my second grade teacher Mrs. Wright made me feel horrible about it.
             I would study for spelling test every night. It would take me hours to read books that should of only took minutes. I remember her yelling at me asking me why everyone else in the class would make good grades on their spelling test and I wouldn't. I shut down in her class. I wouldn't pay attention instead I began passing notes, coloring, and day dreaming. I hated her. Instead of finding the real problem with me she just kept yelling and screaming at me. I would cry a lot, sometimes at school and sometimes at home.
             She began questioning my studying and how much involvement my parents put into my life. She would keep me after school and make me have tutoring. My parents and Mrs. Wright would have meetings almost once a week discussing my learning ability and possible holding me back a year. I had never felt so stupid in my life. Why was this happening to me, why was I feeling so stupid, was I really that dumb?
             Finally my parents met with the principle. They decided to put me in a program at Western that tested children's learning abilities. Every night after school I would go to Western and take a test. They would play games with me such as boggle and scrabble. I would stare at the letters. I could only make small words.
             After all the testing was over they told my parents what my problem was. I was Dyslexic. It all began to make sense. Why hadn't anyone noticed it before now? The people that worked in the program kept me in a few months more trying to teach me how to live with the dyslexia.
             Even now it's hard to spell. But I have learned how to live with it. I still shut down in English sometimes, especially when I have to write a paper on the spot.
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