I was struggle learning everyday. I didn’t like my aunt to teach me. She would always be mad at me when I couldn’t answer her questions. I had fixed the problem by begging one of my friend to go to my aunt’s house and learn English with me. I could later keep myself calm when learning.
I guess you could say no one in my family is really outstanding academically. Being bad at reading and writing, (but mostly reading) made me think that I was never going to be successful in my future life. Five years later flew by; in the 7th grade I got taken out of my English class everyday because of my IEP, and my helper teacher helped me with whatever I needed. She read and explaine... ... middle of paper ... ...to him one on one and all he had to say to me was good things. He said, “Evie, you have made a huge progress this year.
My father left us when I was only two years old. My mother always spoke ill of him and told me that I was better off not knowing who he was. For some reason I think he would have stayed if it wasn’t for the responsibility of taking care of me and I think that my mother knew that as well. My childhood years were occupied mainly by making excuses for the numerous injuries that my mother forced upon me every day because some part of me still cared about my mother, and I never wanted her to be in trouble, or maybe perhaps more logically, I was too scared. In my teenage years, most of my time was spent in school, and after I left there I would come home to a strung out mother that would be ranting and raving about dishes that needed to be done and telling me about how I was her biggest mistake, and that I was nothing but a lazy, hopeless loser, which I knew wasn’t true, but when you are a child the thoughts just run through your head over and over like a bad dream that you cannot wake up from.
I remember the teacher calling my parents one day to set up a conference about what strategies they could use at school and home to help me grasp the contents of both reading and writing. At that point I was then diagnosed with a learning disability in both reading and writing as well as mathematics. At the end of my first grade year the teacher and principal advised my parent to hold me back into the first grade or otherwise I would fail the second grade due to lack of reading and writing skills, So like most caring parents would do, mine chose to hold me back to see if I would improve on reading as well as writing. It was extremely hard for me because at this age I was being made fun of for not being like the other students. My second year in the first grade began, my new teacher had set me up with a resource
I remember the first time that I knew I was not like the other kids in my third grade class. I can also remember knowing that I did not recognize the difference between a lowercase “b” or “d,” or my multiplication tables. I could study my spelling words and multiplication tables for hours, they just never stuck with me. My mother thought I was just lazy and needed to apply myself more, but my teacher had a different diagnosis. She called me to her desk and asked me to spell “ball,” which I spelled with a “d.” She then called my mother and had me tested for dyslexia, which I have.
The next time the book came out was when it was time to return it back to the library. My teacher pulled me aside and asked why I have not been doing the weekly reading A.R test, and I explained to her how I don 't like the books we read at school because they are boring. She told me how fun reading was and I just did not believe her, besides books that have cool pictures. She told me I can spend the week looking in the library for a book I will actually read so I can test on
The stress I got at home was unbearable at times and it only got worse when I had to make up the assignments during recess or reading time. My parents could not help me because my step-father worked days, my mother worked nights, and neither understood a lot of what I brought home. I remember my teachers told me that instead of playing outside, I’d be doing extra work and writing “I will do my homework” until my hands cramped up. It is important to note that not every student was like me—there were several who did the homework, passed the class, but didn 't learn a single thing. Some did the homework and failed the class anyways because they failed their
Because of my horrible handwriting, my mother sometimes got upset but I could not improve myself with that. She always told me when I grow up, I eventually have to fill out job applications, cover letters, etc. Therefore, as the employer never interviews applicants and the first things they see are handwritten application forms, those who have good handwriting will have such an advantage. Lucky for me, now with the advance of technology, these forms can be filled out electronically. It was only until secondary school that my mother stopped making me spend more time on practicing handwriting.
I would make excuses such as, “I have to use the restroom” or “I have a sour throat and I was told not to talk a lot that day.” Keep in mind that I was in kindergarten and already making up these lies to stay away from reading. It didn’t take long for my teacher to notice that I was only feeling sick when it was time to get into our reading groups. She told me that I must start participating or I would get a note sent home. I decided to tell my grandma about my fear of reading. I knew my grandmother wouldn’t be upset with her granddaughter for “not participating.” After I told my grandmother about my “negative attitude towards reading,” she took it upon herself to help me.
Entering Survival Mode My mom prioritized my education. I now find this very admirable, that a woman so young who barely graduated high school and married a mechanic found it to be essential their daughter should be reading, calculating multiplication and square roots, and helping to change oil all before entering kindergarten. Upon entering school, my parents were told I would be held back due to being anti-social. I don’t remember being anti-social; I just remember reading all the time because I was done with my work and I was taught not to disrupt others. I was not held back that year; the school later asked my parents to allow me to skip the second and fourth grades due to my achievement level.