Autumn Neumann Tate

Date 9/16/19

English 0990

Literacy Narrative

Frustrating Mind

I remember the look on her face. She looked like she had flames of red fire coming from

her eyes. Now, in my older age, I can imagine that maybe she was just having a bad day. This

being said, my first writing experience was not the most positive one. I can remember I was in

the 3rd grade when we had a spelling test. It was one that I will never forget. I was much shorter

and had short cute hair that was always pulled to the side to stay out of my face. Along with the

looks, I also struggled with reading more than some children back then did.

Growing up, I was diagnosed with dyslexia. Having dyslexia caused me to switch the

arrangements the letters were when I was writing in my head or when I read. They would flip

around making the “d” look like a “p”, “b”, or “q” in my eyes. Dog, with a lower-case letter, for

example, could turn in my mind to look “pog” or “bog”. Or, when I would read, I would say

words that made no sense to others listening in the sentence. This caused me to be very self-

conscious about ever reading out loud or spelling.

I was put in a resource program because of this and had to do so many flashcard tests to

see how I was improving. Most of those tests involved me trying to seem advanced in my

knowledge by saying the word “dod” for “pop”. Mrs. Palmer, my sunshine of a resource teacher,

did the best she could to help the group I went with to help us learn and overcome the struggle.
Having this hard struggle caused me to spend my English time in the resource room trying to

learn what everyone else was learning in the classroom. Mrs. Palmer limited the amount she

challenged us to prevent us from being overwhelmed. The only time we didn’t spend English

with her was when she was out sick, which was hardly never.

That treacherous day that I can remember, that caused a terrible memory, was when the

resource teacher was gone. This caused us to take the spelling test with the rest of the class.

Since my friends and I were in resource, we only were told to study the first six spelling words

out of the 20 the class was assigned to do. Only, my teacher did not care about our mumblings

about this when she commanded us to do all 20 that fateful day. We pleaded with her knowing

that all of us had never even noticed the other words that class had been given. We all grew a

small balloon of fear for our grades, having no idea how this was going to impact us

In the end, some of us tried our best. But unfortunately, when it came to grade the tests,

we knew our scores were doomed. Some words were so hard for us that caused us to not even

try. Mrs. Foster had us all grade the tests right after and to no surprise, it would be the worst

spelling test score I would receive.

Little did I know that our defiance of not trying to do some of the words were going to

unlock a fire-breathing dragon. She screamed and yelled at each of us in front of the whole class.

“I told you to do all the words! Did you guys just decide not to listen!” She berated us with her

acclamations. I tried my best hearing those words to keep it together. Slowly, I felt the flooding

river reach the peak of my waterfall eyelids. The anger dripped down my cheeks without control.

It sent me running into the bathroom for what I considered to the evilest thing I had lived through

at that time. I cried there for about 30 minutes. Sobbing into the depths of the earth, I wish I

could have just run away.

 To only make matters worse, the scaly thing came into the bathroom looking for me. “If

you don’t stop crying, I’m going to take you to the principles office,” she threatened. Eventually,

I overcame the tears and shrugged back into class with new hate for someone I never had known

the feeling for.

I would eventually overcome the issue and found love for writing. But at that time, it had

killed any love I had for English. Teachers as well did not fail me later. Later, I meet wonderful

teachers who help me expand and developed to be a young writer. My experience helped me

gain a new appreciation that comes with having a good teacher who raises you up. It also

accelerated me to try so much harder to never be put in a position again to not be embarrassed by

the unexpected changes that could occur when Mrs. Palmer was sick.

Junior and high school teachers helped me overcome the massive anxiety idea of writing.

I overcame my weakness of dyslexia and I earned as hard as I could to get over my dyslexia. In

4th grade, I never had to be in resource class again after that. In some ways, the worse experience

that you may have with a teacher can lead you to be a far better adult. Without this experience, I

could have still been in resources years to come. But Mrs. Foster had activated my pride switch

and I never wanted to be put in the position again through my years of school or learning. I

learned was I was capable of. I knew that I could work hard to overcome what I never thought I

could when I was that little girl with the purple shirts and jelly shoes.

I had even met Ms. Foster years later when I was older and graduated from high school. I

remember glancing over and feeling that anxiety develop all over my now twice my size body.

At the end of the day, I went and said hello to her. I thanked for the teaching and the hard job it

must be sometimes. I walked away knowing that as much as I hoped to never see her again. I

may have to credit part of the strong person I had become because of this poor experience.