I stood up amid all my peers, beaming at the crowd in front of me. I have never particularly relished standing on stage where everyone can see me, but national honor society induction doesn’t transpire every day and I was resolute to enjoy it. Mr. Jeffapolous, my old math teacher and current NHS adviser, told us all to raise our right hand and read the pledge off the petite card we all had concealed behind our candles. My hand was in the air and I was reading the car flawlessly; everything was perfect, or so I thought.
My best friend, standing behind me, started snickering quietly and whispered ‘your other right Claire’. I quickly tried to hide my humiliation as I exchanged hands by plastering a large smile on my ever-reddening face. My family, who had been a witness to my mess up, had matching looks of amusement on their faces. I couldn’t fault their reactions, after all if they have a lot of experience with these types of mix-ups from me. If they hadn’t learned to take my dyslexic blunders in stride they would have given up long ago.
I didn’t know about my dyslexia until second grade. Prior to this time I simply believed that I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids in my class, since everything seemed harder …show more content…
Instead, I used these low expectations as fuel in my quest to prove them all wrong. I went home from reading recovery, an hour spent struggling aimlessly through pages full of alphabet soup, with a new-found determination. Instead of half-heatedly trying to read before giving up as I had in the past, I stayed up until 1 in the morning struggling through the book I had worked on aimlessly for the last couple of weeks. After what seemed like an eternity of struggling through pages of words that wouldn't stay where they should, I read the entire book, bleary eyed and beaming, to my teacher with only minor
My best friend, standing behind me, started snickering quietly and whispered ‘your other right Claire’. I quickly tried to hide my humiliation as I exchanged hands by plastering a large smile on my ever-reddening face. My family, who had been a witness to my mess up, had matching looks of amusement on their faces. I couldn’t fault their reactions, after all if they have a lot of experience with these types of mix-ups from me. If they hadn’t learned to take my dyslexic blunders in stride they would have given up long ago.
I didn’t know about my dyslexia until second grade. Prior to this time I simply believed that I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids in my class, since everything seemed harder …show more content…
Instead, I used these low expectations as fuel in my quest to prove them all wrong. I went home from reading recovery, an hour spent struggling aimlessly through pages full of alphabet soup, with a new-found determination. Instead of half-heatedly trying to read before giving up as I had in the past, I stayed up until 1 in the morning struggling through the book I had worked on aimlessly for the last couple of weeks. After what seemed like an eternity of struggling through pages of words that wouldn't stay where they should, I read the entire book, bleary eyed and beaming, to my teacher with only minor