Landmark Stories

Opened the door to the girl’s bathroom. The first thing I saw was the soap. I pumped a pile of soap into my hands and started throwing it at every wall in the bathroom. Then, I started throwing it over the stalls, hitting random people trying to use the restroom. This was normal for me in elementary school (don’t worry, I don’t still do this!). This wasn’t a one-time thing either—I was “that kid,” always up to some sort of mischief.

In my fifth-grade math class one day, I was desperate to leave. By now my teacher had learned all my tricks, and I had used up all my “excuses.” Then, I noticed a classmate getting to leave because their baby tooth had fallen out, which gave me the brilliant idea to do the same. Inspired, I started banging my head against the desk, hoping one of my teeth would come loose. Instead, my tooth cracked in half without fully falling out. I did get to leave math class that day but also spent the day at the dentist. I was consistently getting into an inordinate amount of trouble at school—I would do anything to get out of schoolwork, and no one understood that.

At the time, my teachers didn’t see my actions as cries for help. They assumed I was lazy, disruptive, or just trying to cause trouble. But the truth was, I wasn’t bad—I was struggling. No matter how hard I tried, school felt like learning a foreign language. While my classmates breezed through lessons, I was stuck, unable to make sense of the material.

One moment that sticks with me is when we read Because of Winn-Dixie. I felt so lost trying to keep up that I skipped ahead, reading random paragraphs just to make it through. The next day, I skipped ahead again, never really understanding what was happening in the story. To this day, I don’t know how that book ends.

My classmates and teachers didn’t understand why I was constantly distracting people and running around in the halls. I remember my classes having a behavior chart at the front of the room. Almost every day I would have to walk to the front crying, having to move my behavior color down to orange or sometimes even red. My teachers mistook me for a bad kid when really, I was a kid struggling.

I still don’t know what happens in Because of Winn-Dixie, but I no longer throw soap on the walls either. When kids with language-based learning differences are not identified and not given the instruction they need, they lose hope and their problems can become behavioral and emotional. Before Landmark High School, I had lost hope in my education; however, the right teachers and resources in high school changed that for me. Now, instead of avoiding things I don’t know, I am seeking them out.

Landmark has a “level system” for residential students, where we earn privileges through tasks like keeping our room clean and staying on top of schoolwork. By my junior year, I reached Proctor status, the highest level—a milestone I’m proud of because I started at level one. I realized that this challenge was something I had been avoiding, so I chose to embrace it because I started to see the value in the outcome.

This year, I’m taking several difficult classes that aren’t required, simply because I want to gain experiences that will benefit me both in the classroom and in life. I’m even enrolled in a college course, American Government and Politics, not because I have to, but because I want to. The kid who once cracked a tooth to escape math class is now eager to learn and grow.

Looking back on my struggles with dyslexia and dyscalculia, I’ve come to understand that my challenges were not roadblocks but stepping stones toward resilience and growth. With the right support and a willingness to embrace my learning, I transformed my obstacles into opportunities, not seeing them as challenges that I needed to avoid.

Article originally published in The Lantern Fall/Winter 2025.

< BACK TO STUDENT STORIES