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Personal Narrative: My Dyslexia

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Ever since I was young, I knew something was different about me. I’ve always had an active imagination and would write all kinds of stories, sometimes through pictures and sometimes through words. Not until I was in first grade did I notice my writing was different than my friends. It didn’t bother me though because I was too young to realize something was wrong; I was just different. One weekend, after playing restaurant with my mom and brother, my mom contacted my teacher to talk about some concerns she had with my reading and writing. She was told that I seemed to be progressing on an age-appropriate level with my peers and that nothing appeared to be wrong. But my mom persisted, and insisted that I be tested for a reading disability. My dad is dyslexic and my mom, knowing it can be passed down, was watching for the signs in my older brother first and now me. After testing, one of SV’s school psychologists announced that my results showed I had a learning disability. I then went to my pedestrian to talk about it and then to a special learning center in Sewickley for further…show more content…
I love to be creative; with words, designs, pictures and see my expressive strengths as areas I want to pursue in college. I have finally come to terms with the fact that I will always be a terrible speller. It’s not a good feeling to know this and to regularly have my spelling corrected by my friends and peers but I do my best laugh it off. Humor gets me through the uncomfortable situations of being in an environment where the perception of being a good reader and speller is a reflection of intelligence. For example, I will often throughout the day be called on in class to read something out loud. To any other person this would be no big deal, but not to me. I spell words the phonetic way, so trying to decipher a word on command is embarrassing and
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