Dyslexi A Short Story

“Say it with me ‘Pho-to-sin-the-sis’” my mom said. “Pho-to-sin-the-sis” I repeated. “Good! Now say it all together.” I could see the excitement on my mom’s face. I knew in this moment that I was going to make her proud. I opened my mouth, and it felt perfect as the complicated word departed. “Photothinsises!” I said with a large smile. I felt anger release from my body when I saw my mother's shoulders fall and tears collect in her blue eyes.
“Okay, Ihle, let’s start with this.” My teacher pulled out a box of scrabble letters from the closet. She laid out the letters B, E, and D all in a row. I suddenly became terrified of what she was about to ask me to do. “I want you to change this to the word ‘Bad’ by only taking out one letter and adding

a different one.” I stared aimlessly at the word bed. I thought of the word “Bad” and tried to understand how it was even possible to make that word with only one letter replaced. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Blake. I don’t think that is possible.” “Yes, sweetheart, it is.” I watched as she simply removed the letter ‘E’ and replaced it with the letter ‘A’. I became humiliated that I, a second grader, could not understand how to preform such a simple task.
The next fall arrived, and all of the third graders had to take a test to see if our reading was at a third grade level. One day when the test came back, everyone received a slip of paper ,and the teacher stamped it, indicating that they indeed could read at a third grade level. I became fairly confused because my teacher never passed me my certificate. She rose from her desk, walked outside of the classroom and calmly said “Ihle, please come outside with me. You're not in trouble.” I stood up from my small desk, while everyone stared at me without my reading certificate. I wanted to run far away because, contrary to what she said, I knew I had done something wrong. When I made it outside, she had a chair and asked me to sit. “Ihle, you will receive a certificate just like all of the other kids. I promise. Although, I want to give your certificate to your parents personally. I have already talked to them today, and they have agreed to meet with me tonight. I just wanted to let you know why you didn't get one like all of the other kids.” “Yes ma'am, thank you!” I replied.
I was sitting on the floor playing with my barbies while my babysitter, Blake, watched TV. Suddenly, I heard the back door open. I knew this could only mean one thing. My parents were home with my very own certificate. I ran up to my parents, but stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed my mom was crying very hard. “Mommy, what is wrong?” I went to hug her, but I could tell her mind was somewhere else. My dad then scooped me up in his arms and away from my mom. “We need to talk, dude.”
He sat me down on the couch, and pulled me over on his familiar lap. “The children in your class all read at a third grade level, and that is why they received their ticket in class today. Although, we have a little bit of work to do with you, dude.” My dad said these things while holding my hand and smiling, like always. “You are barely at a first grade reading level, but we are going to change that. We are going to skip school on Monday, and go take a little test.”
My hands were shaking, and my heart was racing as I entered the testing center. My head was facing downward, and I could see out of my peripherals both of my parents hands clinging to my own. “After this test, I know we’ll be able to get your score up to where your friends are. I believe in you!” my mom said with a large smile. The test was five hours long and consisted of various different sections to test my weaknesses. When the test was complete, I felt more ignorant than my initial score of reading on a first grade level.
Two weeks later, I heard my parents talking in the kitchen, so I decided to eavesdrop.
“That’s what I thought.” My dad said with a sigh.
“Dyslexia?” My mom questioned.
“Yes, I knew she would inherit it from my side of the family. Gosh! Why couldn't she have been gifted with your creativity, writing skills, and outstanding reading comprehension?” my dad blurted, and I could hear his fist hitting the countertop.
‘What is wrong with me? Is this Dyslexia a disease I have? What did that even mean?’ I thought to myself. Tears started to fill my eyes because I knew form the beginning that test would tell them something that was wrong with me. The reason why I couldn't pronounce ‘Photosynthesis,’ and why I couldn't understand how to transform ‘bed’ into ‘bad.’ I probably had that arthritis stuff that adults always talk about, and I had two weeks to live. I could now hear foot steps approaching my room, so I ran from the door. I casually began to play with my Barbies acing as if I hadn't been listening.
“Ihle, are you crying” my mom said in a soft and naturing voice while touching my shoulder.
“Am I going to die? Am I going to get a shot?” I said with even more tears gathering in my eyes.
“What are you talking about?” my mom laughed developing her own tears now.

“You and dad were talking about how I had Dyslexia. Is it going to hurt?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, Dyslexia is simply a learning disorder that you get from one of your parents. It makes it hard for you to read, write, and spell, but it doesn't mean you are any less smart than the other kids your age (U.S. Department of Health and Human Services). ”
After I was diagnosed with Dyslexia, I had to start attending a school for children with learning disabilities. I had to completely relearn how to read, write and spell. They would make me do more kinetic activities to trigger the creative side of my brain, and this process would make it more simple for me to learn. My teachers taught me how to be able to properly deal with my dyslexia. I remember going to my regular elementary school, and being so excited to show off that I learned how to simply add, subtract, multiply, and divide in a new way. Although, my classmates thought my new method was harder and unnecessary, but it was how my brain worked. For example, most children were taught to subtract by counting backwards, but I understood it better by counting forwards. I finally enjoyed learning

again.
Unfortunately, the excitement did not last forever. As I learned what my disorder consisted of, my weaknesses seemed to become worse. I would read a whole book and not comprehend any material, my reading became slower, and I would get extreme headaches. My eyes would hurt so bad, and I would become very dizzy. My Dyslexia teachers was suggest that I begin to read only on blue paper. I read on blue paper for four years, and it improved my reading comprehension and dizziness immensely. The blue paper helped to reduce the visual stress put on my eyes, and better help me to focus on understanding what I was reading (“Coloured Overlays, Dyslexia and Visual Stress”).
Every single day of my life I struggle with Dyslexia, and everyday is different than the one before. As I grow and learn about my disorder, I figure out what methods work best for me personally. Dyslexia will always be an obstacle and be apart of me, but it will never hold me back from my true potential. Being diagnosed with a learning disability is a rough process, but through perseverance, determination, and self-analysis, a person can overcome the daily struggles of Dyslexia.