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-   -   I don't nkow (http://forums.writersbeat.com/showthread.php?t=62250)

Vince 03-19-2018 09:58 AM

I don't nkow
 
test - using edit button

Nick Pierce 03-19-2018 04:36 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743560)
I was not particularly worried about starting Elementary School believing that I was like every other boy my age. After all, many kids had gone through it before me so why not me? But school gradually showed me that all kids were not the same. I found that school sorted us out and taught other lessons besides the "Three R's".
At first, things went well enough but as soon as I started working on spelling and math I hit a wall. I discovered that I couldn’t preform like the other kids. They seemed to get the hang of simple math and spelling quickly. I did not. Numbers and letters were piles of slippery stones and I struggled to keep my balance while learning to navigate them.
My internal difficulties became very public when classroom games involving math or spelling were played. I tried but could not keep up. The point of the game, most often, was getting the answer first and while I came up with the answer, it was never first. I knew I must not be as smart as the others and after a short time resigned myself to that fact. My teacher, however, was unwilling to accept my limitations. She thought, out loud, that I was not paying attention nor was I applying myself.
In the middle of these games, she would stop, single me out and ask the questions to me directly.
"Vincent take 2, add 3, subtract 5 and multiply by 4. What do you have?"
A headache was all I had.
My mind fled when my teacher fixed her spotlight stare on me. My inability to answer was there for all to see. After a few seconds the other kids laughed, then they just sat and watched. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. Stony silence may not have been the best idea but it was all I could manage. My silence spurred my teacher on to try harder to pull answers out of me. But no amount of effort on her part could put an answer in my head that wasn’t there. This drilling with no result other than embarrassment for me and frustration for her became a daily ritual. My stomach would twist when the games began.
A particularly nasty time came one morning during math class. My teacher wrote a simple addition problem on the blackboard turned to the class and said the words I dreaded most – "Victor come to the blackboard and do this addition".
I thought, why don't you just kill me and stop this pain. I wanted to run away but there was no place to run – I was a prisoner in the classroom and had no choice but to face my problem there. I stood and walked slowly to the blackboard. It was a very long walk. On the way, I frantically first tried to do the addition in my head. Failing at this I tried to think of a way to get out of the situation.
With no hope and no idea what to do, I arrived at the black board. As I stared at the dancing numbers, my heart raced and my stomach churned. The only thing not working was the part of my mind that dealt with math.
Seconds, crawled by as I stood there. My teacher said something but I could not hear her, as the noise in my head was too loud. But I could hear my classmates laughing, laughing at me. I felt smaller and smaller but I was still standing there. Finally, my teacher gave up and banished me to my seat. I was replaced at the blackboard by a classmate who quickly solved the problem.
This was the lowest point in my young life as I sat there contemplating a grim future of school stretching endlessly before me. I knew I would be unable to face much more humiliation like this. I wondered why I could not do the "work" like the others. Was I stupid? The teacher seemed to think I was not trying hard enough and if I only would try harder I would "get it". I doubted that, but resolved to try harder. But I knew if I could not keep up with my peers, I must have ways to protect myself from the pain of their derision.
I was so deep in these thoughts that I did not hear my teacher announce recess. When she came over to me and told me to go outside for recess, I told her I felt sick and could I just stay in my seat. It was not a lie. The thought of being at the mercy of my fellows so soon after my humiliation turned my stomach.
I was allowed to sit there and at lunchtime I ate at my desk. Mixed in with my burning embarrassment was anger toward my classmates. Why had they laughed at me? I saw nothing funny in my suffering. But unable to figure it out, I knew I needed to find ways to take the sting out of their laughter. After all, given my problems with numbers and words, I knew I was going to give them many chances to laugh at me. This was not going to "go away", so I needed to find a way to get through it.
It seemed to me that I should do everything I could to avoid situations in which I was vulnerable and failing that I should make my classmates laugh "on purpose" before "my mistakes" caused them to laugh. Somehow, making them laugh, felt like I would have "control" and it would not hurt so much. I made up my mind to start to immediately put these plans into practice.
That afternoon, I avoided any questions; I tried to be invisible. I did not look at the teacher hoping she wouldn’t notice or call on me. Even when I knew the answer I didn’t volunteer. It was better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt, as my Grandmother was fond of saying.

I discovered that I had something of a talent for being "clever" with the very words I could not spell. A talent that my classmates enjoyed but often the teacher did not. I had found a workable method to avoid ridicule but had to learn how to be careful in its use. The line, I found, between funny and obnoxious was a thin one. However, it was made clear to me when I crossed over it. But even being disciplined for such a trespass was better than being laughed at for my shortcomings.
This worked well until the end of the year when it was decided that I would not be advancing to the second grade. I had started school one year younger than my classmates had due to my fall birthday. This was the "straw" that made the choice to hold me back
easier for my parents and teacher but not for me. I thought, another year of banging my head against things I had not gotten this year. Plus, everyone knew I had failed to pass and I would see them all everyday next year. There it was another thing with which to deal.
But deal with it I must, so I polished up my "clever" kid act and over the summer got ready for the new school year. A lot of work went into maintaining a blank face, no matter what happened. Jokes were funnier and fear or embarrassment was not easy to see on a blank face. Over time I got very good at keeping a "straight-face", in fact, to this day I have trouble smiling. It is difficult and doesn't look right to me.
The new school year started and I fell into my routine, always on edge trying to be aware of everything going on in the classroom. I was doing ok for a while and did manage to pass to the second grade at the end of the year. But the system had a new challenge for me – a standardized test to measure aptitude and intelligence.

To my surprise, I did very well on this test. I scored at high school level. But this was not all "good news" for my grades did not match the test results and my teacher and family started blaming my poor performance on my being lazy, day dreaming and not applying myself. Instead of getting better my classroom life got more intense. I was put near the front so I could be watched and pushed. My strategies did not work as well under my new circumstances, so I was back to constant tension.
Over time, I discovered I was learning but not like the other kids. I just knew things without knowing how I knew them. Often studying for a test I would despair, as I couldn't seem to remember anything. But given the test I just wrote the answers down not knowing from where they came. As well, if called on in class, I would start talking and if I talked long enough the answer came out. This last thing took some getting used to but I learned to make the first part of my speech a kind of prolog to my final answer. This accomplished two things – I gave more right answers and got called on less because I gave long answers.
Well, life got much better, far less tense and more predictable. Whenever I "gave up" and just gave an answer or just "listened" not trying to learn, I gave a good answer or just learned. It was when I was tired or under pressure that I could not produce.
I now realize that I was dyslexic. What I was starting to do then was to find other ways to manage life because the standard ways did not work for me. This has been a continuous life long process for me. But this is not negative or positive; this is who I am and how I approach life. I tend to notice things others don't, I think of ways to do things that are not typical and being clever (some days more than others) has helped me to get things done in my life.



Mind if I space this text block into a readable form?

Vince 03-19-2018 06:24 PM

I would appreciate it - this thing will not cooperate with me

Nick Pierce 03-20-2018 01:59 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743560)
I was not particularly worried about starting Elementary School believing that I was like every other boy my age. After all, many kids had gone through it before me so why not me? But school gradually showed me that all kids were not the same. I found that school sorted us out and taught other lessons besides the "Three R's".

At first, things went well enough but as soon as I started working on spelling and math I hit a wall. I discovered that I couldn’t preform like the other kids. They seemed to get the hang of simple math and spelling quickly. I did not. Numbers and letters were piles of slippery stones and I struggled to keep my balance while learning to navigate them.

My internal difficulties became very public when classroom games involving math or spelling were played. I tried but could not keep up. The point of the game, most often, was getting the answer first and while I came up with the answer, it was never first. I knew I must not be as smart as the others and after a short time resigned myself to that fact. My teacher, however, was unwilling to accept my limitations. She thought, out loud, that I was not paying attention nor was I applying myself.

In the middle of these games, she would stop, single me out and ask the questions to me directly.

"Vincent take 2, add 3, subtract 5 and multiply by 4. What do you have?"
A headache was all I had.

My mind fled when my teacher fixed her spotlight stare on me. My inability to answer was there for all to see. After a few seconds the other kids laughed, then they just sat and watched. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Stony silence may not have been the best idea but it was all I could manage. My silence spurred my teacher on to try harder to pull answers out of me. But no amount of effort on her part could put an answer in my head that wasn’t there. This drilling with no result other than embarrassment for me and frustration for her became a daily ritual. My stomach would twist when the games began.

A particularly nasty time came one morning during math class. My teacher wrote a simple addition problem on the blackboard turned to the class and said the words I dreaded most – "Vincent, come to the blackboard and do this addition".

I thought, why don't you just kill me and stop this pain. I wanted to run away but there was no place to run – I was a prisoner in the classroom and had no choice but to face my problem there. I stood and walked slowly to the blackboard. It was a very long walk. On the way, I frantically first tried to do the addition in my head. Failing at this I tried to think of a way to get out of the situation.

With no hope and no idea what to do, I arrived at the black board. As I stared at the dancing numbers, my heart raced and my stomach churned. The only thing not working was the part of my mind that dealt with math.

Seconds crawled by as I stood there. My teacher said something but I could not hear her, as the noise in my head was too loud. But I could hear my classmates laughing, laughing at me. I felt smaller and smaller but I was still standing there. Finally, my teacher gave up and banished me to my seat. I was replaced at the blackboard by a classmate who quickly solved the problem.

This was the lowest point in my young life as I sat there contemplating a grim future of school stretching endlessly before me. I knew I would be unable to face much more humiliation like this. I wondered why I could not do the "work" like the others. Was I stupid? The teacher seemed to think I was not trying hard enough and if I only would try harder I would "get it". I doubted that, but resolved to try harder. But I knew if I could not keep up with my peers, I must have ways to protect myself from the pain of their derision.

I was so deep in these thoughts that I did not hear my teacher announce recess. When she came over to me and told me to go outside for recess, I told her I felt sick and could I just stay in my seat. It was not a lie. The thought of being at the mercy of my fellows so soon after my humiliation turned my stomach.

I was allowed to sit there and at lunchtime I ate at my desk. Mixed in with my burning embarrassment was anger toward my classmates. Why had they laughed at me? I saw nothing funny in my suffering. But unable to figure it out, I knew I needed to find ways to take the sting out of their laughter. After all, given my problems with numbers and words, I knew I was going to give them many chances to laugh at me. This was not going to "go away", so I needed to find a way to get through it.

It seemed to me that I should do everything I could to avoid situations in which I was vulnerable and failing that I should make my classmates laugh "on purpose" before "my mistakes" caused them to laugh. Somehow, making them laugh, felt like I would have "control" and it would not hurt so much. I made up my mind to start to immediately put these plans into practice.

That afternoon, I avoided any questions; I tried to be invisible. I did not look at the teacher hoping she wouldn’t notice or call on me. Even when I knew the answer I didn’t volunteer. It was better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt, as my Grandmother was fond of saying.

I discovered that I had something of a talent for being "clever" with the very words I could not spell. A talent that my classmates enjoyed but often the teacher did not. I had found a workable method to avoid ridicule but had to learn how to be careful in its use. The line, I found, between funny and obnoxious was a thin one. However, it was made clear to me when I crossed over it. But even being disciplined for such a trespass was better than being laughed at for my shortcomings.

This worked well until the end of the year when it was decided that I would not be advancing to the second grade. I had started school one year younger than my classmates had due to my fall birthday. This was the "straw" that made the choice to hold me back.

Easier for my parents and teacher but not for me. I thought, another year of banging my head against things I had not gotten this year. Plus, everyone knew I had failed to pass and I would see them all everyday next year. There it was another thing with which to deal.

But deal with it I must, so I polished up my "clever" kid act and over the summer got ready for the new school year. A lot of work went into maintaining a blank face, no matter what happened. Jokes were funnier and fear or embarrassment was not easy to see on a blank face. Over time I got very good at keeping a "straight-face", in fact, to this day I have trouble smiling. It is difficult and doesn't look right to me.

The new school year started and I fell into my routine, always on edge trying to be aware of everything going on in the classroom. I was doing ok for a while and did manage to pass to the second grade at the end of the year. But the system had a new challenge for me – a standardized test to measure aptitude and intelligence.

To my surprise, I did very well on this test. I scored at high school level. But this was not all "good news" for my grades did not match the test results and my teacher and family started blaming my poor performance on my being lazy, day dreaming and not applying myself. Instead of getting better my classroom life got more intense. I was put near the front so I could be watched and pushed. My strategies did not work as well under my new circumstances, so I was back to constant tension.

Over time, I discovered I was learning but not like the other kids. I just knew things without knowing how I knew them. Often studying for a test I would despair, as I couldn't seem to remember anything. But given the test I just wrote the answers down not knowing from where they came. As well, if called on in class, I would start talking and if I talked long enough the answer came out. This last thing took some getting used to but I learned to make the first part of my speech a kind of prolog to my final answer. This accomplished two things – I gave more right answers and got called on less because I gave long answers.

Well, life got much better, far less tense and more predictable. Whenever I "gave up" and just gave an answer or just "listened" not trying to learn, I gave a good answer or just learned. It was when I was tired or under pressure that I could not produce.

I now realize that I was dyslexic. What I was starting to do then was to find other ways to manage life because the standard ways did not work for me. This has been a continuous life long process for me. But this is not negative or positive; this is who I am and how I approach life. I tend to notice things others don't, I think of ways to do things that are not typical and being clever (some days more than others) has helped me to get things done in my life.


Here's a start.
More later.

Okay. Might be done with the spacing.
Gonna read it later.
I think it is well that you wrote this.

Victor removed.

Vince 03-20-2018 03:50 AM

Many thanks Nick - I'll eventually figure this out but am glad for your help

daes13 03-20-2018 12:13 PM

Almost reminds me of David Sedaris work, specifically Me Talk Pretty One Day. If you haven't read him I suggest giving the Google book a read, you can read the first two short stories for free. He's wonderful at making a painful memory into something more.

Vince 03-20-2018 01:29 PM

thanks I'll check it out

Nick Pierce 03-20-2018 02:24 PM

The teacher calls you Vincent and Victor?

Vince 03-20-2018 02:47 PM

as i recall myteacher was very confused and I used different names when editing but it was her fault.

Nick Pierce 03-20-2018 04:49 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743587)
as i recall myteacher was very confused and I used different names when editing but it was her fault.

I suggest you pick one for this piece.

daes13 03-20-2018 04:52 PM

Mary Carr on writing memoir. Summing up, "Its okay to forget and not know, but make your best educated guess and stick with it." I suck at memoir, but maybe this will help with Nicks statement.

Nick Pierce 03-20-2018 04:54 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by daes13 (Post 743604)
Mary Carr on writing memoir. Summing up, "Its okay to forget and not know, but make your best educated guess and stick with it." I suck at memoir, but maybe this will help with Nicks statement.

Which statement (I make so many of them)?

daes13 03-20-2018 04:56 PM

Zeroing in on one constant name, and a constant memory reference thereof.

Well. Fuck. He done said thereof

Vince 03-20-2018 06:28 PM

It was Vincent and still is. this site won't let me change it. oh well to the Victor goes the spoils. but Vincent it is.

brianpatrick 03-20-2018 09:22 PM

https://youtu.be/mSfNvTVEALw


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

Nick Pierce 03-21-2018 02:04 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743611)
It was Vincent and still is. this site won't let me change it. oh well to the Victor goes the spoils. but Vincent it is.


Altered in the rendition I am working on.

Vince 03-21-2018 03:27 AM

thanks Nick

chat bot 03-22-2018 03:04 AM

very surreal and very beautiful.

why not edit and post nicky's version? the spacing was hard to follow. also, why not edit and block?

Vince 03-22-2018 06:41 AM

glad you liked it Box - It is as real as I could make it.

I can't seem to edit things once i post them - can't figure it out- still trying

Nick Pierce 03-22-2018 02:08 PM

[QUOTE=Vince

I can't seem to edit things once i post them - can't figure it out- still trying

[/QUOTE]

Do you see a box labelled Edit in the lower right corner of your original post?

Vince 03-22-2018 02:56 PM

Hi Nick,
yes and when i click on it I get a blank box.

Nick Pierce 03-22-2018 03:02 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743658)
Hi Nick,
yes and when i click on it I get a blank box.

And your original post is not above the blank box that appeared when you clicked edit?

Vince 03-22-2018 06:27 PM

nope

Nick Pierce 03-23-2018 01:51 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743673)
nope

See how I quoted your response and then typed my current statement?

Can you do the same?

Meaning can you quote this stuff and type and post a response.


Tryin' to define the dimensions of the issue here, Vince.

Vince 03-23-2018 09:43 AM

Like this?

Vince 03-23-2018 09:44 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Nick Pierce (Post 743680)
See how I quoted your response and then typed my current statement?

Can you do the same?

Meaning can you quote this stuff and type and post a response.


Tryin' to define the dimensions of the issue here, Vince.


like this?

Nick Pierce 03-23-2018 10:22 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743691)
Like this?

Nope.

Nick Pierce 03-23-2018 10:23 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vince (Post 743692)
like this?

Yep.

Now I gotta fall back and regroup to figure what to try next.

Nick Pierce 03-23-2018 02:54 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Nick Pierce (Post 743694)
Yep.

Now I gotta fall back and regroup to figure what to try next.


Okay, Vince, when you are looking at the original post at the start of this thread are there any boxes in the lower right hand corner?

Vince 03-24-2018 05:58 AM

Hi Nick,
there are four boxes edit, quote, multi-quote and quick reply


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