Excerpts from Anne Ford Scholarship Application Essays

By Katherine Abramson and Blake Weinberg

Throughout the elementary school and middle school years, children devote an enormous amount of time and energy trying to blend into the crowd. High priority is placed on looking, acting, speaking and dressing like everyone else. Although as mature adults our self-worth often stems from our strengths and unique attributes, children commonly find pride and take comfort in being ordinary. Children with learning disabilities often have great difficulty finding this level of comfort. Their academic and behavioral challenges make them vulnerable to comparison with their non-disabled peers, and their ongoing struggle to keep up with work and social demands cause them to worry about not measuring up to their peers.

The following excerpts are from essays written by applicants for NCLD's Anne Ford Scholarship Award. Each of these graduating high school seniors felt the frustration of having a learning disability but refused to allow their learning disability to limit their successes or diminish their feelings of self-worth. It is our hope that their stories and triumphs will inspire other students with learning disabilities.

Elizabeth B, 2004:
Grade school was very difficult for me emotionally because of the stress of trying to memorize my math facts and my terrible spelling. In second grade, I was the only child who didn't get my green apple, which was located in front of the classroom, turned over to red for successfully memorizing my addition and subtraction facts within a specific period of time. As a result of the stress, I would get sick at school if I ate, so the lunch lady used to sit me at the end of the lunch table with a bucket next to me. I hated school at that time and felt that I was stupid. I just wanted to escape home where I wasn't judged by the other kids.

Katrina B, 2004:
At the age of seven, I could not read. As my classmates barreled through copies of children's literature, I was left behind, jealous, confused and embarrassed. This was just the beginning. There would be times like these for years to come. My love of books and language was evident from a very early age, making it even more frustrating for me in the classroom. At the end of my first grade, my parents had me tested for a learning disability because, instinctively, my mother knew something was wrong. I was diagnosed with Visual Perception Deficiency and Dysgraphia. To me, this meant only that rather than starting the second grade with the rest of my friends, I would be sent to a "Special Class". I went through most of my elementary school life, as well as my middle school years, perpetually ashamed. I later learned that the school had told my parents that the odds of me leading a "normal" life where minimal. I was devastated. I spent hours crying, questioning, raging, and it only got worse when I realized that not only was I "flawed" in language, but in mathematics as well.

I won't tell you that at this point I came to terms with my learning disability. I won't tell you that my fight was over. I can't tell you that the past doesn't linger. It took some time and a lot of growing and maturing before I reached an epiphany: there is no one out there that can or should set limits on us. As human beings, we are in charge of our own destiny. I was so engrossed with the idea of being like everyone else, being "normal", that I almost lost track of who I really was or could be.

Leia G, 2004:
I hated myself for not understanding; I was embarrassed and shamed. I was constantly hiding tests from my parents. I didn't want them to know that I kept failing. Tests were what I hated most. I didn't know how to study, and the questions on the tests never made sense to me. Once I even failed an open book test because I couldn't determine what I was being asked, and I didn't understand the organization of a text book. Simply put I just hated school. I think the reason I hated school so much was not because I was struggling, but because I thought I was the only one who had those problems.

Carlos L, 2003:
Many situations involving my interactions with other people were constantly resulting in negative endings. I found myself questioning why everyone hated me but not as much as I hated myself. The truth of the matter was I'm not from the "norm" but identified as a special kid with a learning disability comprehension disorder.

I can recall one of many memories in elementary school where the teacher had given an assignment that had to be finished at the end of the class. Once the assignment was given to me, I did not understand and was afraid to ask for assistance. I felt a lonesome chill creeping up my back and afraid and embarrassed to raise my hand asking for help to an assignment that "some" kids said it was easy but I knew it was difficult for me. When I finally worked up the courage to ask for help "they" laughed and made fun of me. I just sat there ashamed and angry

In middle school, a substitute teacher had passed out a assignment and I could see that I didn't understand "some" problems. I approached the "sub" and asked if she could help me. She looked at the ones that I had pointed out and then looked at me like ! and said "what are you?" "STUPID or DUMB?" "These problems are easy to do." I realized more than half the students in the classroom heard her. It was one thing to be teased an be laughed at by other students but it was totally humiliating to be degrade by a person that had a title that represents trust, understanding, patience and respect to do that to a student.

Eli L, 2002
I felt sad that I could not understand assignments as well as my classmates. I considered it a competition to keep up with them, when in reality I could not. I was upset - upset at myself. The words stupid and slow ran through my mind, leading me to conclude that I was different. Back then, different to me meant something negative, even disgraceful. No one could understand these difficulties I went through, so I felt alone and depressed

Middle school, middle school: I passed between different tutors, and with them new learning methods. I was filled with helplessness, frustration, and dependence on the system of tutors and aids set up for me. I found myself in the middle of a vicious cycle. My difficulties not only affected my life at school, but it kept me from doing things I would have enjoyed. I would not take any leaps into the unknown to join the magic club or the basketball team. An anti-social breeze filled my body. Friends and family were distant. I did not want to disappoint them by failure because I was different.

Time passed. My fight within continued. I battled back and forth between the self that wanted to be normal, the self that blamed me for being different, and the self that simply wanted to be itself. I could not find a solution to my struggle, and therefore lost hope. My slow processing and even incorrect processing ended in the loss of my confidence. The difficulties seemed beyond my control. I sat through class silent, afraid to speak; afraid to call out the wrong answer; afraid of being laughed at by my classmates - my friends.

Tobin S, 2004:
It was very important to me to be treated the same as everyone else, as if I had no learning disability, so I never told anyone of it, not even my teachers. I never wanted to use my learning disability as a crutch or as an excuse so I worked very hard to do my best. My friends didn't know about my learning disability and they would make comments on how poor my spelling was or how limited my vocabulary was, but it didn't bother me. I just worked harder.

Shannon W, 2004:
I first knew I was different in kindergarten. We had a "simple" lesson. We were learning how to write our name. I would look over and my neighbor would be buzzing along forming the letters of their names while I struggled to form the letters of my name. my teacher would say, "Shannon, you will get it, you just need to try a little harder." I would continue to hear those same words for many years to come.

My elementary and junior high school years were difficult years in the area of math. I knew I would have to be a self-advocate and fight for my education. I felt some of the teachers were not concerned about the students who were struggling but focused on the ones that were succeeding. One of the daily practices there still causes me to cringe. Your class neighbor would correct your homework and would announce how many you missed so the teacher could record it. We would then proceed to the board where we would correct our problems. This was humiliating and caused me a great deal of pain. I didn't want to ask for help and feared math even more.

Charles Z, 2002:
Grade school was the most frustrating years of my life. At times, I would literally throw my body down on the ground and have a tantrum, as people did not understand me. Friends would ask my mom what was wrong with me and why I didn't talk right. I really did not speak until 2nd grade and only became fairly fluent by 6th grade. I had anger management problems due to the frustration, especially if friends made fun of me.

Katherine Abramson and Blake Weinberg are 4th year students at Duke University's Terry Sanford Institute of Public Policy, and are enjoying a summer internship at NCLD.

To learn more about our Anne Ford Scholarship, visit the National center for Learning Disabilities website at http://www.ld.org/awards/index.cfm.

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