The gray pencil lead running across a paper was my biggest enemy. Erasing word after word kept my teacher from deciphering what I was trying to write. 

 In 1st grade came the diagnosis of dyslexia. At the time, I didn't understand what being dyslexic was, but I knew it wouldn't shape what I would do in the world. I knew I needed to work harder than other kids and that my mind processed differently. Often kids told me they were jealous of me… I never understood what was so special about getting pulled from class or given a few extra minutes on a test. In my eyes It was embarrassing. The only good thing I got was a prize out of the treasure box if I read a chapter book - and that rarely happened. Pages full of words I didn't even know were real words.  Through my eyes I only saw smooshed words with no white spaces, blurred out words, and letters upside down. I found myself trapped in the jumbled symbols on a page wanting to feel what they are trying to say.

 Often I would sit in class stuck, struggling to bubble the correct letters on my answer document. Seeing my friend's get up one by one to turn in their test, created a sense of worry and urgency. I was only on question 10. I wanted to bubble with the same ease as my friends. Faced with reading and writing my mind filled with confusion. Bed or deb, Of or ov, wensday or wednesday. Dyslexia was my pigmented color of gray.

 Fighting this battle hasn't been easy. I haven't always been able to see colors at school. In my high school History class I sat in my cold blue chair, praying my name wouldn't be called to read aloud. It's a non-fiction article filled with enormous words that I didn't know. It was a perfectly created situation for a dyslexia kid to be terrified. When my name is called this world of gray jumps for joy, for it is my turn to read. I unzip my dark, fearful, blue pencil case. Shaking uncontrollably, I grab a yellow highlighter, and begin highlighting the trap of stutters. Then, I begin to read. My once gray world turns vibrant. I could read. It was at that moment my gray dyslexic world turned to rainbows. Erasing countless hours of broken pencils, tears of frustration, and the battle of words on a page. The power of colors gave me the strength to overcome the world of gray and my stutters. These colors changed my life, giving me an advantage over my dyslexia. I learned how I learn. 

From that day, I found that colors could get me through anything. When feeling the urge to quit because I simply don't get it; I reach for my colored pens and begin to color. To the untrained eye it looks like a child's coloring book, but to me it's a key to a locked door. Colored pens provide the scaffold for me to succeed in school.

 Finding a little color has transformed my gray colored obstacles into opportunities to succeed.. It has helped me to see that every color has a meaning. On the toughest days or facing the toughest challenges colors are my guide, through them I am able to tackle any challenge and now apply them to my everyday life. I have not let my dyslexia beat me or define me, instead I have fought it head on with my colored pens. As I go off to college the importance of colors will come with me, being something I reach for when reading a text.