Better Read Than Heard

I listened to a recording of me at the age of five, I shudder at the memory. I Spoke too fast, mispronounced S’s and Y’s and most letters before, after and between, and had a squeaky high pitched voice. My mother cried “My poor baby I just can’t understand her!” I heard that a lot from teachers, relatives, classmates. My sister translated for me. Sort of. I was enrolled in speech class. I didn’t “graduate” from speech class. I wrote. They understood me. My mother stopped crying. She read. They all read. My sister was grounded.

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