|
By Brian Weilert
Spastic me
I have A.D.D. DD DDD D
I
should have stopped after just
two
but unspent energy made me press on through
and add with much built up
glee
the additional 6 unneeded D's.
I have been diagnosed this academic quarter
with an Attention Deficit
Disorder.
Teachers all echoed
I just couldn't sit still
wanting to shove my mouth full
of little round pills.
My failure to listen to boring lectures
while in my seat
caused the school psychologist
to repeat...
I
have A.D.D. DD DDD D
My parents fought it at first fearing
a decision made in haste
claiming my excess creativity
was a refreshing splash of color
in a world filled with white paste.
But...with 11 educated minds claiming
my
world must be closed in
I was lovingly pumped full of
the choice drug, Ritalin.
Immediately, I ceased to move
about
as my thoughts became clouded.
I was lost in a bland planet
my ideas on life had been shrouded.
My
God what has happened to
what used to be me?
Please give me back my
A.D.D. DD DDD D
At 5, I swore I would
sleigh ride to every country on the lap of Saint Nick
as a reporter and photographer
for National Geographic.
At
7, my future career
made a drastic switch
as my finger paintings depicting dinosaurs in rocket ships
using colors
not normally combined
and requiring 15 minute
explanations each time
were destined to exhibit
I would
have taken bets,
at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
also known as the M.E.T.
9 was a dramatic shift
as school
became something I deplored.
I found my teachers didn't like me
when I finished early and became bored.
I was yelled at for asking "stupid" questions
while out of my seat
or for doodling bunnies with wings
on the
edge of my worksheets
It was then
I first heard the whispers you see
of the meaningless letters
A.D.D.
DD DDD D.
Up to this point I had made straight A's
"Test him for GIFTED" is what they'd say.
But....for some
reason in 3rd grade Mr. Roth labeled me trouble.
I started to fail
despite my efforts being doubled.
I became
angry as I was humiliated
in front of my peers
forced to sit by myself
hearing mumbled jeers.
Or to stand
at the chalkboard
with my nose
in a circle that required me
to be up on my toes.
At this point I hated
Mr. Roth
I hated school.
I hated my classmates
for labeling me the fool.
I hated my parents
who were beginning
to fold
for not seeing me as ME
but as what they'd been told.
So when summer came round
I was once again
free
I screamed,
"To hell with A.D.D. DD DDD D!!!"
|
 |
|
