Throughout school, I worried about being exceptionally perceptive and all the while relying on others to do my homework. I needed long periods of help to express my thoughts in a form that the education system - one that works so well for some but was not generally created for me - would recognize. We say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay In first grade I discovered that there was a huge contrast between what I knew and how I worked in school. How could those encrypted letters mean anything? Why didn't the words look like letters? Why couldn't my hand shape the letters accurately? Why were people chuckling at my spelling? My parents told me I had dyslexia. My elementary school teachers didn't know what to do with me. I was not named a poor student as I understood and addressed the data at a more advanced level than I could read and compose. The great thing they did for me was put me in a program for deeply skilled students. This marked me as "intelligent" and not as a "moderate student". Several children cheered me on because of my problems in class and engine problems in the play area. I became a nonconformist, shy and reluctant to venture out, perplexed that I would be harmed. The specialized curriculum teachers tried everything, except they couldn't think of a system that would allow me to read better. I started to feel more like a guinea pig. They attempted to teach me Braille and advised me to learn Morse code. Some of these things might have worked if I had the tolerance to keep them that way. Things showed signs of improving in fourth grade when I had an instructor who approached me deferentially and challenged me, giving me a significant portion of the drive toward brilliance I currently have. He remembered that I could be brilliant and struggle with things at the same time. He worked with me all year, helping me build my certainty. Eventually my companions also began to approach me with deference. My life changed in sixth grade. When I was younger, I lived in a universe of imagination and creative energy, with trading cards and books. I met a group of classmates like me - intelligent, creative and brilliant - and through them I learned a game called "Mortal Combat". Unprecedented for quite a while, I had companions I could trust and identify with. They introduced me to something that would be critical to my improvement. I became their combat master, and in that capacity, I had to sift through enormous amounts of material to set up the experiences I led. How could I look into it? read it to me The mentors couldn't encourage me. It had nothing to do with school. The push to take some personal control over my handicap had to come from outside the school, but the school helped me adapt to my problems, but did not guide me to beat them. I had to trust that I could defeat my mythical beasts, as well as I had to kill my opponent in the game. In the end it was my test. I decided to use technology to help me suitable for optical character recognition. This allowed me to scan a book into my computer in text format and then have a text-to-speech program read it to me. Given such a large number of errors in the filtered representation of the contents, I had to follow the printed version and was forced to start overcoming.