Personal Narrative: Dyslexia

Just four years old, barely over forty inches tall, there on the ever so cold and rigid pew I sat during Sunday morning mass. Although I never really paid any attention, for my mother had supplied me with a rectangular notebook so prodigiously embellished with amethyst pigmented glitter and my glaring fuchsia pen topped with a similarly colored feather. I would spend that whole hour cascading through my mind, building a story, while my pen followed only milliseconds behind, dancing in patterns of curlicues, zig zags and mellifluous waves. In my mind these patterns were the code to a monstrosity of tales, each one my very own. I remember learning that my curlicues and squiggles were not readable to anyone else’s eyes but mine, and although …show more content…
My mother never actually had me tested because of the high costs and extreme procedure, but we have always taken notice of it. And so forth, I voyaged into the marinas trench of learning. Here is where I would spend my days practicing writing the alphabets capital and lower cases in reiteration to receive a shiny pink sticker. My mother had acquired many techniques to help me counter my dyslexia such as, sculpting letters with vibrant shades of pink, orange and blue clay. A few tasks she would ask me to do is pick a small paragraph from a book I enjoyed and rewrite it onto paper, but she also encouraged my creativity by setting the timer for five to ten minutes, granting me total freedom to write about anything and everything that crossed my mind. Every week it was a tradition to bring home a book from the library, so each night before I turned out the light, I would sound out each word on the page until this practice turned into a harmonious innate skill. To this day my dyslexia has never defined me or set me behind my goals; it has only encouraged me to work harder and given me a whole new respect towards learning.
Around second grade, is when I read my first chapter book all by myself. It was “Junie B., First Grader. Aloha-ha-ha!” by Barbara Park. I remember picking it out from the library and stirring …show more content…
Junie B. Jones has remained a favorite of mine, I’m almost positive I’ve read every single one. As I have gotten older I have used this skill for encoding all these shapes and symbols, to advance my knowledge even further. One day while prancing though the library I came upon a series of fifty books, one for each state. This sprung my fascination for geography, which soon transformed into my current passion for studying people and the idiosyncratic diversity we all inhabit. Learning to read and write is the supreme gateway to accessing multitudinous fields of knowledge and pleasure. I, Hannah Hamlin feel privileged to acquire this