Ignorance Was Bliss-Or So I Thought.

Donte and Louis

As a child I’ve always had difficulties with learning.  Retaining information was a challenge.  My father assumed I was damaged in the head while my Grandmother thought I was retarded.  I didn’t read or write, just watched T.V. when permitted or played with what few toys I had in my room.  Although Donte was three years younger than me, his reading skill were far better than mine.  To keep each other entertained while locked up in our rooms, Donte would occasionally read stories from anyone of his many books.  Even though we were locked in our own separate rooms, Donte and I were still able to talk to one another through an adjoining sliding door.  It too was locked but we were able to open it just enough that we could see each other.  During the day, with nothing to do, he would read and I would listen.

It did bother me that Donte could read and I couldn’t.  I didn’t know why I couldn’t or how he learned how to. In my school I didn’t have a reading class or a writing class and I assumed neither did he.  I tried reading at home but I didn’t have books in my room except comics and a collection of Disney’s Golden Books (Hansel and Gretel was my favorite) but nothing challenging.  I assumed reading just came later in life, like talking or walking-It just happens and for some people it’s a faster process.  I wasn’t one of those people. It wasn’t until I turned 13 that I knew different.   

From the age of 9 to 13 I attended a school that was more a daycare than an actually learning facility. It started off in a small office building with no more than 15 students ranging from 8 to 15 years of age.  As the years past it grew and moved to larger building but not one set up for a suitable school.  There was no playground, just a small parking lot that we played on.  The “cafeteria” came in the form of a public lunch truck that would park near the curb and was opened to anyone off the street.   As far as the classes, we learned to play backgammon, and a few other games.  We also had story time, that is, if someone had something to share, they did.  Reading was not a required subject nor was it considered a necessity and there was a reason for that.



My Classmates from Clearvew
I'm on the bottom right

The majority of the kids at the school had some kind of difficulty, whether it was a learning disability, behavioral problem or a mental handicap.  Because the school was small, there wasn’t really a separation from one level of difficulty to another, it wasn’t uncommon I would be in a class with mentally challenged kids.   However, age did play a part as did performance.  While some kids with greater challenges than I would move on, I would linger behind simply because I didn’t know any better.  I mingled with the hyperactive, the trouble makers and the kids who were unwilling to learn, after all, school was a place for fun and games.  At least that’s what I thought.    

When I turned 13, Dad sent me to my first public school.  Bancroft Jr. High and I was promptly placed in an E.H. program.  By inquiring the meaning of E.H. I learn the term learning disabled.  Educationally    Handicapped is what they called the program, E.H. for short.  I thought it meant Extra Help.  It’s discouraging and depressing to learn you are dumb or as my grandmother would say “retarded.” For weeks I withdrew into a world of silence because of something someone told me,   “It’s best to be silent and let people think you’re smart then to talk and prove them wrong.”   Though no one would have considered me shy before, I was becoming very shy, withdrawn and self-conscious of everything from the way I dress to the way I talked and acted.   I hated that I couldn’t read but most of all, I hated that I was separated from the “normal” students just like I was separated from my family at home.  It was then I decided to pick up a book and read.  The first books I read were children books and I worked my way up to books written from movies, not movies written from books but books like “Rocky” “Superman the Movie” and “The Karate Kid.”  I did that so that I could use the movie as a reference.  I would read the book first then see the movie to make sure I followed along with the character in the book.  If, however, I though the book to hard I would see the movie first then read the book.  That was how I taught myself to read.  Writing wouldn’t come till years later, but that’s for another story.