Personal Narrative: Recovery Class

Improved Essays
To all the doctors, teachers, peers, and family members who didn’t believe I would amount to greatness, thank you.
When I was young, I didn’t understand why school seemed more challenging for me than it did for everyone else. I couldn’t discern why I was unable to distinguish my right from my left no matter how many times my teacher sighed and told me it was simple or why I could complete math problems perfectly then copy my answer wrong between the work area and the answer line.
In second grade, I was labeled as dyslexic and stuck in the reading recovery class along with all the other ‘troubled students’. Every day I missed free time filled with exciting games such as seven-up and tag, forcibly sat in a room where the lights were just a bit too bright and the chairs a bit too straight, and read aloud. After an eternity of struggling through a page of words that wouldn’t stay where they were supposed to and letters that loved swapping places I went back to math class with a star sticker.
The other kids in my class were jealous that I was allowed to go off and acquire stickers while they were forced to stay in class. Smiling along I pretended their jealousy was well earned, but I knew the price that came with each one. I knew
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The day my older sister was reprimanded for getting a B on a spelling test and I was hugged for the C that I had received was the day I changed. The fact that they thought more of her than they did of me was infuriating. That night I stayed up till 1 in the morning struggling through the book I had been working on aimlessly for the last couple of weeks. The next morning, bleary eyed and smiling, I read the entire book to my teacher with only minor mistakes here and there. That day I earned two stickers from an astonished teacher and when the other kids eyed them enviously, I felt true pride for the first time in my

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