When most people look back on their childhood education, field trips and bus rides, recesses and nap times, sticky hands and the smell of the teachers' candy stashes quickly flood their senses. While I had my fair share of adventures as a child, I have another type of memory that strikes me, a pungent memory that brings tears to my eyes and ambition to my soul.
(A girl sits at a large dining room table, pencil in hand, staring angrily at a paper in front of her. A few chairs down sit's her mother, FERN looking distressed)
FERN: We have been working on this for the last hour, Rose. Can't you do a single problem without me talking you through it? (Large tears begin to slowly roll down the young girl's face and her cheeks burn with shame)
ROSE: You're the school teacher shouldn't you be able to make me understand on my own? I just (short hiccupping sobs escape from her lips) can't do it, OK? Math is impossible! (A tall middle age man enters, removes his tie, and joins the girls at the table)
RICHARD: (In a stage whisper, meant only for FERN) Same as last night then? (FERN nods. A look of frustration flashes across RICHARD'S face quickly replaced with one of grim determination) I'll take over for a while. (All along ROSE'S sobs get stronger. As RICHARD scoots his chair towards the girl the lights fade to black)
END SCENE
NARATION(con't.):
A few months into my third-grade year I was diagnosed as specific learning disabled, S.L. D., with particular trouble in mathematics, spelling, and motor-skills. All this really meant was that I learned differently from other students. I am not dumber or smarter than any other person, yet this information devastated me. I remember getting the test results and feeling as if a death a sentence had been handed down.
SCENE TWO
( FERN and ROSE are sitting in a large blue van parked in a grocery store parking lot FERN is holding a document in her unsteady hand )
FERN: Rose, sweetheart, do you remember that little test I had you take a while back? (ROSE responds with a solemn nod) Well...I have the results. I was going to wait but ...and ...I just have to... (her voice fades out)
ROSE: No, no don't tell me. I don't want to know! Please, please let it be ADD.
FERN: Why do you want attention deficit disorder?
ROSE: I listen when you talk about your students! Kids with ADD get pills and pills make you better. I don't want to have one of the things you can't cure!
FERN: Oh, honey. (Tears begin to well up in FERN'S eyes) No, you do not have ADD, sweetie. You are S.L. D., like the students I teach. I just did not want to see it in you. It's my fault it wasn't caught until now.
ROSE: NO, no I'm not stupid! I know I'm not, (Sobbing now) I'll do better I swear it, (She begins to cry hysterically.) Fern wraps her arms around her daughter, gently rocking her back and forth and whispering words of love and comfort)
END SCENE
NARATION (con't.): Since that day I have come to see this news in an entirely different light, no longer as my death sentence but as my wake up call. My mother soon explained to me that the students she taught were not the "stupid" kids as I had naively thought, but those students that learn by "going through the window instead of the door." When I discovered that I was still capable of doing average level work, I refused to even consider going to my mom's room for lessons. My logic was this: If I am capable of average level work, then I will do the normal work in the normal setting I will just work harder. My mother agreed as long as I consented to being pulled from regular classes as soon as my grades began to drop again. I now had something to prove. I worked harder than I ever had before and asked questions in class as if my reputation depended on it. Mrs. Molina, my fifth grade teacher, was also a great support. She praised me for my reading abilities, which had been accelerated by my new-found ambition in school, and took extra care of me when it came time for the dreaded multiplication tables. By the time the year had ended, I achieved the highest reading level in my class and had passed my FCAT (Florida Comprehensive Achievement Test). Being diagnosed with S.L. D. was without a doubt one of the most heart-wrenching events in my life but also the event I consider the most important in forming me into the ambitious young woman I am today. I refused to back down from the greatest challenge I have yet to face, and I am winning the battle. I never spent a single class period in an S.L. D. class, and I worked my way to the top of my graduating class. That victory fortifies me with confidence and pride but also keeps me humble, for though I have changed drastically since that first scene, the little girl is still playing a part in the play of my life.