I have blond hair. blue eyes and an infectious smile.People tell Mum how gorgeous I am and how lucky she is to have me.But under the surface, I am in a turmoil.Words look like swiggles and writing stories is a disaster area because of my spelling.There were no play-times at my old school until work was finished, which meant no play time at all.Teachers said I was clever but just didn’t try. Shouting was the only way the teachers ever communicated with me.Other boys made fun of me so I was lonely and misarable.It was like being on a desert island, lost and alone.Life was life and school was school.
Written by Alexander aged 9 who is dyslexic
From The Dyslexic Institute
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