Freshman Math

I was already in my desk when the bell rung.  Even though it was a new day and the class did not start yet, I already knew what was going to happen. 

            I got out my binder and my teacher handed out color paper to everyone because she did not like to use white paper.  I got a light blue paper and on it was a math formula and vocabulary words such as horizontal, vertex, origin, and so on.  The formula I remembered was the intersect slope formula, y = mx + b.  The teacher told us the definition of the vocabulary words but I had trouble listening and writing at the same time.  I raised my hand in class and most of my classmate did the same.  But I already knew that no one would come to help me.

            In the upper right corner of the room, the special education teacher stayed there and helped the students in that corner, never moving from her spot. She thought that the students in that corner needed her help the most, but I needed her help too.  I knew I was in special services because I had difficulties with reading, math, and writing.  It was not until a year later when anyone discovered my dyslexia.  Sometimes the special education teacher would come over to me but she would only tell me how everything on the paper was wrong and she would get frustrated at me.  The only thing I did was sit there quietly and let her punch me with her words. 

            I lowered my hand when I saw that today she would not be moving from her spot.  The teacher at the front of the classroom moved on and taught us how to use the formula and I flipped over my paper to discover some math problems.  When it was time to practice I did all the math problems as best as I could, although I knew that all the answers were wrong. 

            My teacher walked around the room but always skipped me, leaving the special education teacher to deal with me.  I raised my hand so that someone could check my work. The teacher saw my hand but ignored it and the special education teacher saw my hand as well and ignored it. When my arm grew tired, I lowered my arm, again knowing that no one was coming. 

            The teacher went over the problems on the white board and I saw that to no surprise all my answers were wrong.  I did not try to fix them because I knew it did not matter to anyone.  I knew that none of the teachers were going to help me or acknowledge my presences in the class.  The teacher left me for the special education teacher and the special education teacher left me to fend for myself.  

            The bell rang and I put my binder away and walk off to my next class, knowing that the same disease was waiting for me there. 

The next day I walked into my math class and I raised my hand once.  The day after was the same and so was the day after. 

By the first week of October, I stopped raising my hand.