To the 12-year-old me, reading was drudgery. It was difficult, boring and stupid, more like work than entertainment. That attitude dug an intellectual hole that took me years to escape.
Did I have a learning disability? Who knows? It was the ’70’s and the concept was fairly new. In the motivate-or-dismiss paradigm of the day, I couldn’t get it so I was disciplined for being “lazy” and marginalized as “slow.” I took it all personally, withdrew, and found refuge in the stories on TV and in movies.
Life at home was no help. Learning and success weren’t ...
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