school days
... just did not want to be labeled. I take full responsibility for my actions. I should have asked for help. I should have addressed this problem. It’s kind of funny because it wasn’t until one day, not to long ago I was watching the Cosby Show. Theo was struggling in school. No matter how much he studied he could not retain information. I could totally relate. I understood how he was feeling. It is very frustrating. The frustration does sometimes get to me. I try not to, but there have been times when I felt that there is no other way. This how it is and there is no changing that. Just like Theo, my mom would get mad at me and accuse me of not trying and not caring about my school work. I did care. I cared a lot. It was just very hard for me to not only admit I had a problem but to confront the issue. Confronting the issue would mean that people would know. I would probably get accused of trying to make excuses for having not so good grades. Like Theo, I felt dumb. I would, and still do, look around and see everyone else doing the work. So why cant I? That was until that episode of The Cosby Show. That’s when I realized that I was not alone on this issue. Theo was so frustrated and ready to give up until his history teacher Mrs. Label became conscious of Theo’s learning disability. Coming to grips with that word “disability” is hard to digest. It is even harder to apply the word with myself. On the show Theo went through a series of tests. In conclusion to his learning barrier they diagnosed Theo with atteniton deficit disorder. I felt as if that show was directed at me. The feelings that Theo were feeling I was too. The frustration and disappointment in him are the same feelings. Once he was diagnosed with attention deficit disorder he had mixed feelings. On one hand he was upset because he had this problem. On the other side of the spectrum he felt some closer because the doctors told him there were ways to over come A.D.D. For the first time I knew that it’s not a strange and out of the ordinary thing to have this problem. I can remember the whole episode and comfort I felt while watching The Cosby Show. I now know that if I bring it to surface, it would not be an excuse. That was one of my fears. I did not want anyone to say that I was making excuses for the reason of my falling grades. This issue really came apparent to me at Brockton High. That is my high school. When classes and work became more challenging. Classes became more challenging and less gratifying. I was able to get help and I would. I would stay after class, and meet with the teacher after school. This method of tentative learning was all well and good but it did not address the issue at hand. My teachers would see that I was really trying and really wanted to improve my grades, and they would grade me on my effort. My report cards started to read, “Trys hard and really wants to learn. Pleasure to have in class.” I did think much of it the time. I knew that it was hard for me to retain information when I read. Or no matter how much I studied I could never remember everything. But it was ok as long as I tried hard and gave it my best. That’s what mattered. Getting that passing grade. Come time for college I would assure myself, “colleges will see my efforts.” Along with the assurance of getting great recommendations from my teachers I would have no problem getting accepted into colleges. Then SATs came rolling around. I took those SATs on three different occasions. Once paying an extra fifty dollars for late registration. Every time it was the same thing. I would a good nights rest, eat a filling breakfast. Have my number two pencils sharpened, all five of them….just in case. Sit down crack my knuckles one by one. Listen to each and every direction like it was gospel; take one deep breath listening to that last instruction. “You may begin, you have until quarter of.” I was ready. Full belly, pencils sharpened and neatly placed to the right armed and ready at a moments notice. That was it. I could hear myself, “ok David you can do this concentrate, con-centr-a…? Gee I wonder what number he is on. Wow this school really needs a good cleaning. I never noticed these carpets were red.” My mind would wonder, jumping from one subject to another. All while reading the passage and questions on the test. I would have to read them over and over. Each time reminding myself to concentrate and how important this test is. Needless to stay I could never break the 900 mark. Sometimes I felt that I if I just filled in the bubbles; ABACADABA. All the way down the answer sheet I would be better off. Without good SAT scores I was not able to get into Westfield State College. My best friend Eric and I had this plan since ninth grade. We go to the same school together. Dorm together, and take criminal justice together. That plan was quickly aborted. I was advised to go Massasoit Community College get my grades up and transfer in. Yeah!! That’s what I will do. That sounds easy. That two year school seemed as if I was going for my doctorate degree. College was not the same. Professors don’t know who you are. They don’t know my strengths and weakness. Nor do they have time to learn them. The idea was, I go to class the professor is going to speak, if I feel something he/she says is necessary to take note of. Than do so. “You need help? Get a tutor. Any questions? No good. Let’s get started.” I took the advice of getting a tutor. One semester I had three tutors at one time. One for composition I another for calculus and one for biology. Massasoit was a lot like Brockton High with the difference of being independent and having freedom. I struggled through some classes. Taking them over and over until I got it right. By my third year at this two year school I decided to apply to Bridgewater State College. I could not take it any more. I would question Massasoit and convince myself that it was the school and not my own abilities. I applied to Bridgewater State College and was accepted. It was the fall semester of 2000. I was excited to be in a new school and looking forward to new beginnings. The campus was three times bigger and the student population was ten times the size of Massasoit. Not only was the school size bigger but the workload was too. MY NEMISIS!!! I guess it didn’t help that I was working full time too. I was working at Maverick Construction thirty hours a week and going to school full time. It was not by choice that I worked full time. I had to pay for school. Don’t get me wrong Iam not trying to make excuses that is what I was told by the Dean of Bridgewater State College. I had to meet with the dean after I was put on academic probation. I took the Dean’s advice and cut my work hours down. Winter break came around and it gave me time to step back and look at things in a new light. I needed a plan. I needed to be scheduled and follow it to a T. I...