Struggle with English By Melody L. Halsrud As a young child, I always felt like I was just like everyone else. I could climb a tree as well as any boy; I could ride a bicycle as fast as the wind, and I could even have a very lady-like tea party with my stuffed animals. Overall, I had a normal preschool life until I got in to second grade, and everything went wrong after that when I had to start to use more English. My experience with English has never been an easy road for me. Being dyslexic made it hard and a scary experience all through elementary, middle, and high school; however, college was a blessing in disguise. When I was in elementary, about the second grade, I found out that I was not quite like the other kids in my class. Everyone else in my class was not having as much trouble in learning to write as I was. In my class, my teacher was Mrs. Forest. She had dark hair frosted with gray that she always kept up in very tight bun. She had a very oldschool attitude, and also, she smelled of garlic. She was not very nice to me most of the time. First thing every morning in class, we had to write a sentence on the chalkboard using our spelling words, and most mornings she would pick me to go up first. I hated being up in front of the class. When I was up there, the letters would get all scrambled up. I did not know what to do. My hands would get sweaty, my stomach cramped up, and my knees were shaking; it was as if I was going to my own execution. Mrs. Forest would give me the look that could melt steel if she was unpleased with me. “You have not studied, have you, Melody?” Mrs. Forest bellowed. “This is not a game, missy. You’re being lazy, and do you want to be dumb all your life?” she continued. I said nothing; my classmates were laughing behind their hands while I just stood there and cried from the em-
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