Two amazing four letter words Life and Love. They start and end with a set of the two beautify letters. Both of them is part of every living being, you are bone to lead your life, you fall in love to learn valuable lessons.
From the day I was born, the four letter word Life decided to make me strong by put up few hurdles, at first those hurdles broke me, but the other word love made me strong, now when I have learnt to live the with a strong mind love decide to leave.
Being born different is both a boon and curse for me. The way I see the world is not same as every other person on the earth. Being dyslexic was that boon and curse for me.
As a small toddler entering school, being most creative and talkative had my teacher’s attention. Those days I was the star of my class because of my class teacher choosing me forever other stage event with never brought fear in my heart.
Those two years of my pre-school was nice, my scores were not that good yet they were not bad. An average child who is creative was the words that described me.
Latter when I entered my first grade, things seemed little different, teachers where getting little pissed off by my naught behaver who knew the answers but the answer papers questioned if I really did know the concept they thought.
Yet my teachers didn’t put me in the below average list of kids has my mathematics paper had a 100% score every time.
First and second grade went with my naughtiness and cheerful smile. The stories I built for getting out of trouble with ever forgotten assignment and ever test that I failed had brought laughter with the humor and comedy it held in it.
For example:
When I had forgotten to complete English grammar book assignment: “I was writing it, then the tea from the tea pot decided to get some real tea as I didn’t want to fall asleep as I had two write five more pages. The tea met coffee on the way and they decide to go to see the moon. Pot got lonely so it left in search of tea. I waited for them still I fell asleep. Sorry I couldn’t complete as tea and pot didn’t return to me with some tea to shew off my sleep.”
Those stories I made had never had any logic of reality.
I still remember how my mom and sis sat to teach and I had thousand and one stories to escape form the studies. Has it was boring task for me to go through the same stories and poems in the class and then again for ten times in the house. Writing it out was a task I hated. The words loved to play with me rather than taking their place in sheet. The b’s and d’s seemed twin sisters. P and q seemed to fighting with each other. U and y liked to confuse me. M and n had their own hide and seek to play. E was my beloved appearing at the end of every word I wrote.
Study time was only fun if I was allowed to play with my best friend mathematics. The love for mathematics had no answer. It had its own way to make me feel same. Adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing was something I loved. The problem statements that come in the end of second grade made me feel like a queen with everyone scratching their head when I had the solution.
I was too young to understand the importance of groups and friends in this social life. Every other I spoke to was a person I went for lunch with. One day I sat with the most popular girl of the class the next with someone whose name was unknown to me. Seniors and juniors didn’t seem to be unavailable for my talks.
Teachers where annoyed by my behaver but never took it to extent that broke my little heart. Here and there they had made me cry for my bad behaver.
Later in third grade everything changed. There came a new teacher who had her own rules for dividing kids into their status in the class.
Being a very naughty kid, ironed shirt and trousers had learned to rumble on the way to school, neatly polished black shoes loved a deep in the sand to turn brown. Neatly made ponytail seemed so boring so pulling it out was a habit. Over all I was not a kid with great appearance for any to speak to.
And this teacher couldn’t resist seeing my ugly face with no makeup on.
The first thing she use to do after her entry to the class was to send me to washroom to check if I had popped my pants. That was the first time I ever felt embarrassed, I use to hate it at her actions, I was not so dumb to pop in my pants, and just because looked shabby she couldn’t do it.
First day I was ok with it, second day she sent a classmate of mine along with me saying to see I had done the work she assigned to me. With days passing by like this none of my class mates allowed me to sit along with them for lunch. That is when I understood the value of gang and friends. Being friendly with all was not important but having a true friend was necessary.
Everyone started treating me like an untouchable. I understood the feeling of loneliness that time for the first time. Latter after few days I wanted a gang to hang out very badly.
Did I find a set of friends???? Wait for the next post for that.
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