Language Autobiography
Intro:
The language autobiography project was to show ways that language make use who we are. And show how it affects the way we act. And being there is a large verity of different was that people find ways to express them selfs in language that its a great way to see who they are. For me the hardest part of this project was just thinking about what to write about. Then Mr.Block say "I am really looking forward to reading your paper. I think that with your dyslexia it will be really interesting." I never thought to do that. But after that, writing the scenes was really easy and fun.
Intro:
The language autobiography project was to show ways that language make use who we are. And show how it affects the way we act. And being there is a large verity of different was that people find ways to express them selfs in language that its a great way to see who they are. For me the hardest part of this project was just thinking about what to write about. Then Mr.Block say "I am really looking forward to reading your paper. I think that with your dyslexia it will be really interesting." I never thought to do that. But after that, writing the scenes was really easy and fun.
Paper:
In the world we live in there are only a few ways of expressing yourself. You can talk, sing, dance, or be a writer. I can’t sing, or dance. And even though I like writing, expressing myself verbally is the best thing for me to do. The English language is like a damn to me. It blocks off all the beautiful and elegant words I want to say and twist them into a word search.
Paper:
In the world we live in there are only a few ways of expressing yourself. You can talk, sing, dance, or be a writer. I can’t sing, or dance. And even though I like writing, expressing myself verbally is the best thing for me to do. The English language is like a damn to me. It blocks off all the beautiful and elegant words I want to say and twist them into a word search.
When I was in the fourth grade I was given an IEP. And I didn’t know anyone who had that. They’re where other kids who where in this “group” of “different learners”, but they where not that brightest sun in the galaxy. So why did I need one of these you ask. Well I will tell you. I am dyslexic. Dyslexia is a learning disability that makes you mix up letters and numbers. Like a b for a d, or an m for an n. It’s really not that bad when you get use to it. However English language doesn't help, because of its nonsense spelling.
I don’t really remember the first day that I want to my IEP, but do remember some of my first thoughts. “Byshera, can you come here please.” Said a tall white woman in the doorway of my forth grade class. I got up form my seat in the room and walked into the hall. “Y-yeah yes” I said. I hated talking to people that I didn’t know. And the bright pink shirt and the dirty blond hair were intimidating. “Hi, I am Ms._____, and I am going to talk to you for a little of.” She said with a coffee stand smile. “Why, did I do something?” I had never felt so dumb. Why was this woman talking to me like I was three? What did she want to talk about? She continued thought with out a care of my tone. “No, I just want to talk about the way you read.” her smile was stuck on her face.
I didn't really understand I read the same way everyone did, right? Form that day on I learned that the way my mind worked was thought to be wrong. And I didn’t know why that was. I know more words then other kids in my grade. And I know when you use them. So why was it that I had to be placed into a room and told over and over again what sound th made. I would like someone to tell me why there is a b in comb or two p’s in stopped. But now I sat in a chair and listened to the th sound.
No matter all of the past IEP classes. Because know I know I don’t see words in my mind the same as every one else. But I see them better, stronger, more powerful, then anyone else ever could. My language really was nothing like any ones I know. And for that I was talked down to in a basic was. Because words where like a river in my mind. Moving, never slowing down, changing and growing. And my dyslexia was like a rock in the river. It was slowly getting broken down and changed.
Now most people are shocked when they find out that I have this rock. I think its because I was using words that they didn’t know. That makes me think of the time I was talking to my mom about football. My mom and dad where up early sitting in the living room. They where talking about the football game, as they always did on Mondays. “Yeah you know we could have won” said my dad disappointed in the Eagles. I don’t know why he gets his hopes up so high. They never win. “Yeah,” said my mom “I hope Vick will be ok to play next game.” I don’t know much about football but I don’t know about medicine. “Well, when someone is concussed they usually make them rest for a few weeks.” The strange look that she gave me was like something out of a horror flick. “What?” she said with a concerned tone. “what is concussed?” she said as if to make fun of the word. “To have a concussion.” I said. And as I walked out to the car all I could here was, “Have a good day, don’t get concussed.”
So a guess language to me is just being able to say what I know. And learn more and more ways to spell what I know. Because words are betieful and eligent. And no one will tell me that’s wrong even if you know there misspelled.
I don’t really remember the first day that I want to my IEP, but do remember some of my first thoughts. “Byshera, can you come here please.” Said a tall white woman in the doorway of my forth grade class. I got up form my seat in the room and walked into the hall. “Y-yeah yes” I said. I hated talking to people that I didn’t know. And the bright pink shirt and the dirty blond hair were intimidating. “Hi, I am Ms._____, and I am going to talk to you for a little of.” She said with a coffee stand smile. “Why, did I do something?” I had never felt so dumb. Why was this woman talking to me like I was three? What did she want to talk about? She continued thought with out a care of my tone. “No, I just want to talk about the way you read.” her smile was stuck on her face.
I didn't really understand I read the same way everyone did, right? Form that day on I learned that the way my mind worked was thought to be wrong. And I didn’t know why that was. I know more words then other kids in my grade. And I know when you use them. So why was it that I had to be placed into a room and told over and over again what sound th made. I would like someone to tell me why there is a b in comb or two p’s in stopped. But now I sat in a chair and listened to the th sound.
No matter all of the past IEP classes. Because know I know I don’t see words in my mind the same as every one else. But I see them better, stronger, more powerful, then anyone else ever could. My language really was nothing like any ones I know. And for that I was talked down to in a basic was. Because words where like a river in my mind. Moving, never slowing down, changing and growing. And my dyslexia was like a rock in the river. It was slowly getting broken down and changed.
Now most people are shocked when they find out that I have this rock. I think its because I was using words that they didn’t know. That makes me think of the time I was talking to my mom about football. My mom and dad where up early sitting in the living room. They where talking about the football game, as they always did on Mondays. “Yeah you know we could have won” said my dad disappointed in the Eagles. I don’t know why he gets his hopes up so high. They never win. “Yeah,” said my mom “I hope Vick will be ok to play next game.” I don’t know much about football but I don’t know about medicine. “Well, when someone is concussed they usually make them rest for a few weeks.” The strange look that she gave me was like something out of a horror flick. “What?” she said with a concerned tone. “what is concussed?” she said as if to make fun of the word. “To have a concussion.” I said. And as I walked out to the car all I could here was, “Have a good day, don’t get concussed.”
So a guess language to me is just being able to say what I know. And learn more and more ways to spell what I know. Because words are betieful and eligent. And no one will tell me that’s wrong even if you know there misspelled.
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