Personal Narrative: 30 Hours In Elementary School

Everyday I woke up, there would be another problem. Whether it was the: grass, pollen, dogs and cats, or just the dust in the air, something would turn my nose into a mucus making machine. This Machine paired with my asthma was a mix made for disaster.
In elementary school, I would miss 20 sometimes 30 days a year. Missing so many days would force a kid to do a little extra homework or maybe get a little more one on one time with the teacher, but for the most part they would be able to make up those lost days. However, that wasn't the case for me, I had dyslexia. Getting me to read and, more so, write was like trying to get a 2nd grader to eat broccoli.
When reading I would somehow end up mixing letters around and then have to go back and
reread the same sentence two or three times over. Rereading every other line made me want to throw the book across the room. Therefore, like any rational kid, I decided to stop. Stop reading because it was too much work, stop writing because I couldn't spell anything, and stop doing my homework, because “why not.” Because I “Stopped”, I started to get thirty and forty percents on my test and was then placed into an Individualized Education Program or IEP for short, which was basically a tutor at school. For part of the day, mostly the afternoon, I went to a small blue classroom that was about 9 by 11, with about 5 other troubled students. We would take everything at a snail's past, having time to practice specific things over and over again instead of moving on like a normal classroom. Although the program helped me understand more, it didn't help motivate me. It didn't make me want to do better at all, for me it was just another thing I could blow off. Unlike some of the other students I was never moved out of the program. I was only removed from it because I swapped schools.
Three weeks before my 5th grade school year started, my mom discovered that we had been living in an apartment with black mold.
At first we thought that this was just a little mold in the basement that had formed next to a little leak by the window. Wanting to know the extent of the mold, we ripped off a pizza size piece of old soggy drywall from its concrete backing. As if it was painted on, and no spot left untouched, entire wall was covered in the foul smelling black mold. My mom moved 4 feet to the left and removed another chuck of the disintegrating drywall and like a photocopy, was there.
Learning that we would be forced to move right before I would start my 5th grade year blindsided me. I didn't have time to get mad or sad, because, before I knew it, I was getting ready for me first day of school. As soon as I stepped off the bus my past school experience started to haunt me. However, I knew one thing, I was tired: tired of always failing in school, tired of a sub 40 percent on tests, tired of my persona, and ready to change all of it.
Failing elementary school changed my whole look out on life. It taught me that giving up will only result in a colorless conclusion. That if you don't even try you won't know about all the marvelous outcomes that could have happened. It made me work harder so that I don't fall down that path again. It instead of just trying to slide by, you should give your all and
prosper.