Essay On Dyslexia
We all have that one kid in our grade that struggles in school. Well that kid happens to be my little brother. I used to think kids like him weren't smart and I was so much better than them. After I saw my brother’s pain, I thought differently. Ever since my brother was in fourth grade, he had trouble in school. My parents couldn't stand to watch him struggle, so they took him to Applied Learning, an of five that he would go to every day to work with adults to get over his dyslexia. That's what they thought it was, dyslexia. My dad had dyslexia as a kid and we thought it was passed down genetically. Applied Learning didn't seem to be helping Solomon, it actually seemed to frustrate him, it made him feel like he wasn't as good as the
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Fifth grade was just as bad, maybe worse, than fourth grade. Classes started getting more challenging and his friends plastered him with labels. I felt so bad for him. I started to see the other kids in my grade who struggle through a different lens. I felt bad for them and empathized with their struggles. I wanted to help them, just like I wanted to help my brother. My parents took Solomon to the doctor for an ADHD test. The results would come in a few weeks. I tried to help Solomon with his schoolwork, but he wouldn't let me. After his friends saw him through their labels, Solomon's self-esteem plummeted. You could see in it in his eyes. He walked slowly and kept his head down. He cried while he did his homework. I wanted to fix everything, but in reality, I couldn't. When the test results came in, it showed a severe case of ADHD. Now Solomon takes a prescription medicine so he can focus in school. His grades have slowly, but surely been making their way back up. But the best part of all is that his friends have discontinued the labels. They have been peeling away the plaster that covers their view of who Solomon really is, a kind, strong, helpful, considerate and loving person who desperately wants to impress his family and fit
Fifth grade was just as bad, maybe worse, than fourth grade. Classes started getting more challenging and his friends plastered him with labels. I felt so bad for him. I started to see the other kids in my grade who struggle through a different lens. I felt bad for them and empathized with their struggles. I wanted to help them, just like I wanted to help my brother. My parents took Solomon to the doctor for an ADHD test. The results would come in a few weeks. I tried to help Solomon with his schoolwork, but he wouldn't let me. After his friends saw him through their labels, Solomon's self-esteem plummeted. You could see in it in his eyes. He walked slowly and kept his head down. He cried while he did his homework. I wanted to fix everything, but in reality, I couldn't. When the test results came in, it showed a severe case of ADHD. Now Solomon takes a prescription medicine so he can focus in school. His grades have slowly, but surely been making their way back up. But the best part of all is that his friends have discontinued the labels. They have been peeling away the plaster that covers their view of who Solomon really is, a kind, strong, helpful, considerate and loving person who desperately wants to impress his family and fit