Unlike some…I wasn’t born a writer…it went something like this…
My God…she’s illiterate…I can almost feel my mother’s disappointment as she heard those words shortly after my birth…she can’t read a word…she can’t even make her letters…stupid baby…
And…things didn’t change anytime soon…
Frustrating months followed…despite the best efforts of all concerned…my reading skills did not begin to develop until I was probably four years old…even then…it was just a few words…here and there…I could write my name…but…that was about it…
Although…I know it was difficult…the decision was made…shortly after my sixth birthday…I would be placed in an institution for the functionally illiterate…AKA…first grade…
For the next twelve years…I endured test upon test…and received appropriate interventions based on the results…exercises in spelling and grammar…were given to build up my vocabulary and make sense of my thoughts…
I made progress…and was soon to be released…but…I still had the occasional misplaced modifier…and dangling participle…I wasn’t ready to go it alone…my parents found another institution…college…
The tests were more difficult…the interventions more strenuous…after checking in and out of several institutions…looking for the one best suited to my needs…I finally settled in…and treatment began in earnest…
They gave me the best…teachers and textbooks…but…despite their interventions…I still suffer from the heartbreak of grammar faux pas…from time to time…
And…yet…I write…daily…
Note…I am currently undergoing comma therapy with a professional editor…and rely heavily on massive dosages of grammar and spell check…just to make it through the page…
Thanks for the giggle, Jane. Your story parallels that old commercial where young men are sent into a cold private cell to apply sharp implements to their smooth skin. That is, to shave.
ReplyDeleteWell, I can't draw, sew, or fix mechanical things, but I am part of the Grammar Police - should you ever need help LOL!!
ReplyDelete