The truth

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I’m Dyslexia. No matter how old, no matter how young, I’m Dyslexia. It took along time to find out I was fourteen years old. Fun right; it not like I wasn’t tested repeatedly, four times. All negatives and the really fun thing was that the teacher could say anything. Until finally my eight grade teacher told mum what she thought. My mum got me tested outside the school. And you know the tester said when she told us the results she said that was easily to tell. So thank you, to the teacher that would speck up or to the once that couldn’t put there finger on it. I was also having some sleeping trouble and my chorus teacher asked how I was. I told that was Dyslexia, she said I knew that I mean the sleep. I’d been chorus for three years and take maybe a hand full of quiz and she new. She asked after my first quiz, if I had Dyslexia. Thanks, but with my mum and dad by my side I was okay. So I’m spell checking but all my where’s and what’s are probably the wrong ones. So spell check doesn’t always work. But I’m writer, I’m Dyslexia , and I’m me. My left side of brains messed up, but my right side of my brain I think all be okay. Thanks teachers, and thanks mum and dad.





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