Journey of Reading

Dylan Van Cleve

Foreword

I was only 7 years old when I was in third grade but I was at a 1st grade reading level.

My family didn't know I had dyslexia or ADHD until I moved to RI in 2018-2019. My dad always had big expectations as well as my mom but my dad was home more often. I would always read with my dad and I'm super thankful for all the time and effort he took just to help me learn how to read. The habit of character I cultivated due to this experience is perseverance because I did not give up. My memoir shows my struggle, but also my success.

Journey Of Reading

“DYLAN!” my dad yelled from his room. “IT'S TIME TO READ!”

“NOOOOO, I HATE READING,” I replied.

Reading was my worst enemy. I trotted to my dad’s room with my arms flailing in

annoyance.

“Daaaaadddddddd, I'm playing with trucks right now… can I do it later?” I pleaded.

“No,” he said, then reached over to his bedside table and snatched the book. We were

reading a book called “Roberto Clemente” - a book about a twelve-time All-Star, World Series MVP, and the first Latin American inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

I started reading out loud to my dad. That was his rule. And I read…..so….slow. Word for

word, I was like a robot. I was always scared that I would keep getting a word wrong and my dad would eventually get aggravated.

1 Hour Later

An hour passed and I was only 4 pages into the chapter. I would always count how many

pages there were before I started reading; there were… 16. My dad had fallen asleep now

because of how slow I was reading.

Maybe I should sneak away?

So that's what I did.

Meredith School in the 3rd Grade

Every day, my mom or my dad would walk me to school. I would always get a Philly

pretzel that the school sold. I had a ton of anxiety, but school was the most stressful out of all my concerns: 32 students in a class and 1 teacher. I never knew what was coming up. It could be a test or worse… a read aloud. During a read aloud you have to follow along with the text.

I would pretend I was following along, but really, I would be watching the construction

outside of the window. Bulldozers, plowing dirt. Excavators, digging holes. Dump trucks,

hauling rock. Cement trucks, placing cement. Cranes, moving beams.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The trucks backed up. Then… I heard my name.

“Dylan,” my teacher called.

“Yeah,” I responded, not realizing what I was saying. I was so mesmerized by the

construction outside.

“It's your turn to read.”

READ! That word instantly snapped me out of my hypnosis. My hands started sweating

uncontrollably as I flipped through the pages to try and find where we were, drying them off on my pants every 5 seconds.

“Where are we?” I finally asked.

“Page 56. Top of the page on the word ‘there’,” my teacher replied with a bright voice.

I was officially at war with my dyslexia.

“Oh, uh o-kay,” I responded with a stutter. “There,” I whispered to myself over and over

again as my eyes jumped over the words on the page.

Finally, I found the word. I began reading and sounding out each letter as my teacher

finished them for me. Then I reached the end of the paragraph that seemed as long as a book.

“Do you want to pass it to someone else or keep reading-?” the teacher couldn't even

finish her sentence before I said,

"Pass.”

The feeling of saying pass felt like I was winning the war, but little did I know that I was

losing. I still didn't know how to read.

***

“DYLAN!” my dad called from outside.

“WHAT!?” I yelled running to the porch where my dad was burning vines in the fire pit.

“WHAT!?” I yelled again.

“It's time to read.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. “OKAY!”

I went to my room and opened the book.