ENGWR 300 (Online)
January 26, 2012
The Pain in Learning
“Why are you even bothering? You’re too stupid to read that, let alone understand it.” This phrase, and many like it, was all I heard from my biological father as I was growing up. I was one of the many unlucky children that grew up with an abusive parent. My biological father hit me, belittled me and much, much more. Yes, I am angry at him, but in a cruel round-a-bout way, my father helped me become the intelligent woman I am today.
When I was a child, I loved reading. I would read anything I could get my hands on, from my mom’s Anne McCafrey books to the manuals on the bottom shelves. Reading was my escape from the screaming and yelling of my house. When I got further into school, that need for escape grew and evolved into a need to prove my father wrong. He has never supported me in my academics, yet he has always yelled and hit me for anything less than a B grade. Because of the way he treated me, I dove headfirst into my studies, and by the end of high school I ended up at the top of my classes.
My teachers never understood my narrow-mindedness when it came to learning. I was great when I was given a month’s worth of work to do and left to my own devices, but when they made me participate in the class itself, I never did as well. I was given low grades because of this, and my father would hit me more. By the time I got into middle school, my parents had gotten a divorce and my mom had been remarried for seven years. It didn’t make things better. I worked harder and harder, and got better and better grades. And more and more bruises.
Just after the beginning of my sophomore year in high school, for reasons that escape me to this day, I moved to Manteca to live with him, his new wife, and her granddaughter. At this new, larger school, I got good grades, all A’s and B’s. My father did not care. My step niece would get a C on a math test and she got taken out to...