Kindergarten. Looking out the windows because I couldn't understand why I wasn't able to count the strawberries on the pink round table, oh the

Embarrassment

First Grade. "What's 2+2, class?" No, Jill how about somebody new answers this one." Hiding my face and praying to god that my teacher wouldn't call on me. I'm just so

Scared.

Second grade. I couldn't remember the states. Why couldn't I remember the damn capitals I am always just so freaking

Confused.

Third Grade. Getting pulled out of the classroom. Why. Sitting in a room with a lady who wasn't my teacher, what was wrong with me why was I

Different.

Fourth Grade. Why is the teacher mad at me what DID I do, i feel like I feel like

A fish in a tank, they're tapping on my glass wondering what I am.

Fifth Grade. I just want to get out of here, someone gets me out of math class I don't understand long division. I will NEVER understand fractions.

Impossible.

Sixth grade. Middle school. Special classes "Special." They're calling me special. Special isn't what I am special is the girl who scored the highest on her MCAS test, Special is the girl who scored the highest on last weeks "Mad minute" special isn't me. I am not

Special.

Seventh Grade. Writing makes me feel free. I write and write and I can't stop and I joined music class and somehow I don't feel

Alone.

Eight Grade. The teachers understand me. They know me. They know that I am not so I know I am not so

Stupid.

This is a poem that I wrote about what it feels like to go through grade school when you have a learning disability. A lot of people don't understand that all disabilities disable children from the age of five all the way through school sometimes.

When I was in first grade I was diagnosed with a Non-verbal learning disability which is usually characterized by a significant discrepancy between higher verbal skills and weaker motor, visual-spatial and social skills.

Luckily with the support of my amazing parents and the teachers at Broad Meadows Middle School and Quincy High school, The feeling of being a fish in a huge tank with my peers tapping on the glass faded.

Although before the feeling faded I had a few people that weren't so supportive of the situation. Telling me I should "Apply to two-year schools" or "Stay in standard classes" And "Oh, you can't take advanced."

Good for them, I did it all.

Good for me, I proved them wrong.

What I'm really trying to prove here is that, no matter what your "thing" is that sometimes can make you feel disabled to the world, persevere.

I wouldn't be half the woman I am if I didn't.

Thank you to my teachers, you inspired me.

Thank you to my parents, you love me.

I'm so excited to teach my very own students in "the stupid class."