What was my favourite subject in school? Lets see... Um... I remembered that I was really good in math and everyone thought that I did really great, but it wasn't all that interesting to me. It was just numbers, you know. Science... not that much. I know that science is really important, knowing how the whole world works, but not all of it was useful to me in the end.
I think my favourite subject would be history. Learning how just one person could have a massive impact on a country or even history. I was also fascinated with wars, especially since I got games like Halo, C.O.D and even Valkyria Chronicles. Not only studying up on the strategies that they use, but also learning about war propaganda or how two countries could be at each other's throats and not even firing a bullet.
But thee only subject that I wish that I was better at was English. No matter how much I wanted to be good at it, it was my most difficult subject. Not because that I couldn't understand the subjects that they were talking about, far from it. I could build a world and what the inhabitants could be doing in it and I could come up with characters and imagine how their interactions should be. My problem is that I have a lot of trouble with the most important, nay, thee most crucial thing in any given story: the grammar.
I grew up... with a disability. Autism to be more precise. I could remember where my house is, but have difficult remembering the names of the streets. Same implies here, I can remember all the character and all the plot points, but I have trouble remembering the correct spelling or what is and isn't proper grammar. It's really annoying to because I can come up with amazing stories but I just have trouble articulating them.
For example: One day, during school, my English class was given an assignment from the teacher. We were meant to come up with a story where a son is going to see his father and it has to be 1000+ words. We can come up with anything we want, but has to be about a son meeting his dad. It could be the first time or after a bad argument. They could be happy or angry to see each other. We could even say that the son had a sex change or the dad was dead and the son was at his grave stone. We can do anything, but we still have to meet the requirements and we have two days to do it in.
On the day that we were meant to hand it in, the teacher let us have the last 15 minutes of class to do whatever we want before we hand our stories in. And during that time, I was busting my balls off trying to fix any error that I thought saw. My story was about the son who travelled a fantasy world trying to find his father. I was spotting words that I'm fairly certain that they were spelled incorrectly. However, I actually wrote my story in pen so had scribble out the wrong word and write the right word above it. But as I was correcting more word, I could see that my paper was becoming messier and messier. And that was just spelling. I do didn't knew if a sentence was written incorrectly. Most of the time, whenever I try to read what I wrote in my head, I thought that it sounded fine. But when someone else looks at it, I feel embarrassed when they point out the errors that I miss.
And in the last five minutes, it took a breather when my hands were cramping up. And as I look around the class, I could see how relaxed the other students were. Some was still looking over their work, but they were a lot less tense then I was. And across the room, I could see the girls texting away on their phones and the guys who chatting with each other. They might not have the best grades in the class, but they still have better writing skills then I have. But then again, there aren't working with a handicap.
Eventually, the bell finally rang. Everyone was happy that they don't have to sit around anymore and get to do other stuff that they not meant to do in school. But before the closest guy could even touch the handle, the teacher yelled:
"Don't forget to hand in your homework before you leave."
One by one, everyone made their little detour to the teacher and dump their stories on her desk. One even knock over a photo which she keeps on her desk. I was the last one to hand my story in because I was still working on it while I walk. I handed it in and follow everyone else out of the door. But as I was going through the door frame, I stopped when the teacher called me back in.
"Steven! Can you come back just a minute!?"
All I thought was "Oh Crap' when the teacher's words stopped me in my track. I the swung back around and came back into the classroom. When I returned, with much embarrassment and shame, I hesitantly asked:
"Is there something wrong?"
Even the teacher gave a sigh of depression so even she didn't like that she have to do this.
"Steven... I know your trying, but you are not meeting the requirements of the class."
"What!?" I replied in much surprised and irritation. "But I have been meeting the requirements. I had the boy meeting his father and it's like over 5000 words."
She argued: "I know Steven, but you just made too many spelling errors for me to pass you."
Slowly getting upset, I argued back: "But I... I have been looking over my work and fixing any mistake that I made. Trust Me, I Have!
All she replied to me was a disappointing look. She know that I have been trying, but knows that it wasn't good enough. She then flick open my cover and began marking my work in front of me. She got out some highlighter pens and began acting like Microsoft Word: covering my spelling errors in red and any in-pronunciation greenish-yellow. She was spotting all the mistakes that I made and a lot of them were ones that I didn't notice. She even highlighted the ones that I did try to fix but still came out wrong anyway. As she was about to highlight one word, I yelled to her:
"Now Wait! I KNOW That I Spelled That Word Correctly!"
However, the teacher counter argued: "Yes, but that wasn't the right word to be used in this sentence."
The slapped myself in embarrassment. highlighter completely covered my paper and it becomes a test to spot where it wasn't covered in any ink. Eventually, I yelled out: "OK! I Get It!"
I pulled up a chair and began explaining: "Look, I know my grammar isn't all that great. But trust me when I say that I'm great at coming up with stories and concepts."
She replied: "That is all well and good, but how could anybody appreciate your stories if they can't understand them?" After I groaned in irritation, she calmly says to me: "Look, I know how much you love writing, but I think you can do better at somewhere else. I heard that you also like acting. Why don't you transfer to the drama class?"
I hate to admit it, but she was sort of right. I do like acting and I can really get into a role. I was even tempted to buy a camera and make videos on the internet. But then again, I get into my roles because I was really invested in the story and I wanted to write investing stories.
I pleaded: "Look, I know it's really hard for me, but I promise that I will try harder . I am dead serious on trying to pass this class."
She looked disbelieving but I don't blame her. I've said those some words before and I failed every time. I would say that I was getting better, but I not a noticeable difference. But after much debating in her head however, she replied:
"Fine. I'm giving you one more chance to get your act around."
My heart and spirit was lifted when I heard those words. I didn't knew how hard I would have to work, but I was determined to get to the end of the course, even if I might fail at the end.
But then, the teacher added: "However, because you are having so much trouble with your grammar, I am going to assign to you one of the best students in the class to be your tutor. He is going to help you to get better so must do everything that he says."
I was a bit miffed at that. Actually, I was really miffed. Through out my life, I was given a little teaching aids to help me with my studies which was much appreciated. However, I am older and I don't need one holding my hand anymore. But despite how much I want to be independent, I know that I'm in no position to be issuing demands. I swallowed my pride and replied:
"*Sigh* Fine... But I would like to know who?"
The teacher replied: "I'm thinking...... Jake Bradbury?"
I wouldn't knew it at the time (and honestly, who would), but he was going to be one of the few people who I would still meet after I left school. We don't share all the same interests, but he was more the willing to try the same stuff that I like. He was honestly a nice guy.
However, there was one thing that I didn't knew about him at first. Something that completely changed my opinion on the guy once I found out what it was. And unfortunately, he was part of the main driving force that got me to where I am today.
He was a brony.