Mick

I hate those one-by-one reading days! And as of today I hate her even more. Those letters, the evil black soldiers, just won't let me plunge into the world of stories. I used to like stories when my father read me goodnight stories. But now these strange, black soldiers don't let me plunge into stories anymore. The stories, the beautiful, sad or even exciting stories no longer devour me. I hate them, the soldiers with their barbed wire fence, who used to let me into the world of little witches. They weren't angry then. But since I've had to read, they just look at me with hostility and don't tell me anything. I even sat in the back row and refrained from sitting next to my best friend. Sometimes you're lucky when you're in the back. When it is such a "one-after-the-other-reading-to-day", they usually start in the first row and if you are lucky, the lesson ends before you have to read aloud.So I sat in the back. At first everything worked, but today the teacher called me. She asked me if I knew what Colette had read. Of course I didn't know. Because I never listen to Colette. Because Colette has it good. The black soldiers did not put up a barbed wire fence in front of Colette. They let Colette immerse themselves in the story. That's unfair! Why am I not allowed to immerse myself in the wonderful stories and be devoured in them. Colette laughs, sings, whispers and screams the letters. Colette entered the world of letters. She can enjoy these words and listen to what they tell her. They didn't take me in. The letter soldiers hate me and that's why I hate her and Colette too, because she was accepted and the soldiers like her.
I told the teacher that I wasn't listening and reading. I finally gave my teacher my opinion that I don't care about reading.And the teacher actually thought that I was too stupid to read! That stupid cow! I don't care, that's all. I DO NOT WANT! I don't speak to my teacher anymore. I hate that stupid goat.
And I'm definitely not going to tell her how I used to like my dad's goodnight stories. I'm not going to tell her that before there weren't any bad soldiers who didn't let me plunge into the story, but little witches who weren't bad; Bears and tigers who didn't bite and children who didn't have to read.
But then she said in front of the whole class that I was disabled and that it wasn't an excuse not to pay attention.
With special needs! It was like being grateful that I was allowed to sit here at all! What can I do that I don't find meaning in the black soldiers? What can I do that they don't let me into their world like Colette? Nothing. And I am not disabled.The doctor said I had a reading disorder, but not that I was disabled. I am NOT disabled! I have a reading disorder and therefore I am afraid to read aloud. I don't like reading aloud because I'm afraid other people will laugh at me. What can I do for the fact that only I in my class have this reading disorder. For me, this reading weakness is like being unable to enter the world of letters, words and stories. They forbid me, so to speak, to enter this wonderful world and do not let me in. My father no longer reads to me either because he thinks I can read myself now. But I also hate to read like this, because then I always have to think about the entrance into the world. At the entrance, that you can or can read to others. To impress others with stories. I just can't do that. It's unfair, but can't be changed!
Never in my life have I been so angry with a certain person as I am - with this teacher goat!I'm so mad at her !!!
I sat down in the back row so that I don't have to read aloud. I am afraid to read because the soldiers set traps for me and I trip over them. The soldiers also make P's out of the B's and B's out of the P's, M's out of the N's and N's out of the M's. I can not help it! The soldiers have fun when they switch places, that I mix up letters. That is also unfair! But what should I do about it? I can’t do anything and that’s what’s unjust. I would love to read without having to pay attention to whether I am doing everything right and other people will not care if I make a mistake now. I want the soldiers to apologize to me as they always do to Colette. I want you to apologize for not enjoying reading. But they just don't do it. I can wish it as often as I want. On my birthday, when I blow out the candles or when a shooting star whizzes past the black sky.Nothing happens. The army of black soldiers are not taking away their barbed wire fence. But there is nothing I can do about it. I can't just climb over the barbed wire fence and sneak into the world of stories. Neither can I fight this huge army. They are too strong for me and they are trying everything to prevent me from getting inside. But what should I do about it? Why don't the soldiers want to let me into their wonderful world? I'm not different from Colette or my stupid teacher? Or?
I often ask my parents why I have this reading disorder and why the black soldiers do not allow me into their world. But my parents just tell me not to fantasize like that and that I should rather practice reading better than make up such nonsense. The army of black soldiers really does exist and I didn't make it up. My friend Patrick believe me, he's a real friend.And I will fight these black soldiers until I have won and they let me into their world. I will be able to enjoy the stories. One day I'll be able to read as well as Colette and my father, no, I'll be able to read better.

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LG