When in my youth, I was not one of those kids who enjoyed writing, those who fostered inspirations of becoming a writer. I hated writing because I couldn’t spell.
On TV, John Boy Walton spent hours in his room writing daily for enjoyment. Not me, I never wrote anything outside of schoolwork.
In high school, I learned that I had some good ideas, but I still didn’t want to write. My teachers would grade me A/F or A over F, A for ideas, and F for spelling.
The teachers could still grade my writing because I spelled everything fonetically. Thay coud still read and understand what I rote.
I coudn’t understand why in grades won threw three the teachers tot us fonics, making us do worksheets in thos little plad fonics books every day or thos ditto masters that smeled so good.
Why did thay spend so much time teaching us something like fonics when it didn’t cownt for speling? It made no sents.
Won time in second grade I roat “Speling Test” on the top of are weekly test. I speled spelling rong. This happned at Maryman scool in Marynet, my home town.
The teacher yelled at me in front of the hole class for speling speling rong. I gave up.
When I went to juneyor colege in the early 1980s, Apple Computer came out with the IIe seres, which had a word prossing and spel check flopy disk. Soon I could write and spell accurately. The correct spelling flashed in green letters on the black screen when I misspelled a word. That’s how I learned to spell and not from that battleaxe teacher.
I would have never finished college without spell check.
With the aid of my new friend spell check, I wrote and printed out page after page using a continuous feed dot matrix printer with guide hole strips on each side which were pulled off when finished.
It was an amazing feat when I completed college and graduated cum laude with distinction in the major, considering I couldn’t spell accurately a few years previously.
Although I finished college, I didn’t consider writing as an endeavor or hobby, and certainly nothing for pleasure. Decades later, after 60 years of living, I discovered I know stories from the life I have lived, and I need to write them down.
Others may want to read my stories, and I’m starting to enjoy writing them.
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