I GRADUATED AT FIFTY-THREE

Dear Delyara, I left school at sixteen because teachers called me lazy. At forty-eight, I learned I was dyslexic. My daughter convinced me to enroll in community college. The first semester, I cried in my car after every English class because reading three pages took me an hour. Then I asked for help. I met with disability services. They arranged audio textbooks, extra exam time, and software that read my essays aloud. I studied before my warehouse shifts and recorded lectures to replay during lunch. Today, I graduated with an associate degree in social work. When my name was announced, my daughter screamed louder than anyone in the auditorium. I carried the diploma to the parking lot and held it against my chest. For thirty-seven years, I believed I had failed school. Today I understood that school had failed to recognize me. I am not lazy. I never was.