Angela Purbaugh
Stories (2/0)
Dyslexia + Me = A Stealth Mission
I had to escape. That was the second thing I learned in the first-grade on the first day of school. The moment the teacher turned her back, I made my move. I hurried to the door, twisted the knob, and slowly pulled it open. The door made a loud creaking sound, and I expected the teacher to turn around and tell me to go back to my seat and sit down. She didn’t. She was too busy helping a student who was having a seizure. The boy was shaking and sliding out of his wheelchair. It was the second time he’d had a seizure in less than five minutes. It was kind of scary to see, but the teacher had told us there was nothing to worry about and that the boy would be fine. The boy didn’t seem fine. Nothing seemed fine, nothing at all.
By Angela Purbaugh5 years ago in Psyche
- Top Story - October 2019
Dyslexia + Me = An Awkward SituationTop Story - October 2019
There was something wrong with me. That was the lesson I learned in first grade, on the first day of school. I was six years old and living in upstate New York near the finger lakes in a town called Canandaigua.
By Angela Purbaugh5 years ago in Psyche