佚名/Anonymous
My mouth felt dry as I followed my mother into the doctor's private office and sank into a padded chair next to hers. This doctor didn't carry a stethoscope. He had a room full of gadgets and gizmos to analyze the learning abilities of failing students. That day he had analyzed me.
He shuffled papers and jabbed his wire frame glasses with a forefinger.“I'm sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Dow, but Peter has dyslexia. A fairly severe case.”
I swallowed and tried to breathe. The doctor went on.“He'll never read above the fourth-grade level. Since he won't be able to complete high school requirements, I suggest you enroll him in a trade school where he can learn to work with his hands.”
I didn't want to go to trade school. I wanted to be a preacher, like my dad. My eyes filled with tears, but I forced them back. A twelve-year-old was too big to cry.
Mom stood up, so I jumped to my feet, too.“Thank you, Doctor,”she said.“Come along, Peter.”
We drove home without saying much. I felt numb. Dyslexia?I'd never heard the word until last week. Sure, I was always the slowest kid in my class. During recess I had a special hiding place behind a shrub. There I would cry because I couldn't do my lessons no matter how hard I tried.
Of course, I never told my mom about that part of school. I was too ashamed. I didn't want to worry her, either. She had enough on her mind with teaching school full-time and taking care of Dad, my two brothers, my sister and me.
Mom and I arrived home before the rest of the family. I was glad. I wanted some time alone. With my chin almost touching my chest, I pulled off my coat and hung it in the closet. When I turned around my mother was standing right in front of me. She didn't say anything. She just stood there looking into my eyes with tears running down her cheeks. Seeing her cry was too much for me. Before I knew what was happening, I was in her arms bawling like a big baby. A few minutes later, she led me into the living room to the couch.