Separate the twins.

As I began to grow academically, my twin brother struggled. As with many young black boys, he had an undiagnosed learning disorder called dyslexia that wouldn’t be identified until many years later. Teachers wrote him off and mother tried to correct it through fear, clearly neither were helpful. I looked at him and said, “Don’t worry brother, I’ll help you.”

At home I would assist Dre with his homework. Well, I would do his homework and put his name on it. I did the same with his in-class work. I had him sit next to me before the teacher handed out the class assignments. I would tell Dre not to put his name on the paper until I completed the sheet in front of me. Once done, I would hand it to him so that he could turn it in. We repeated the same thing on tests. Until one day, the teacher asked Dre questions in class and he couldn't answer them.

She called mother for a conference and shared her observation. She told mother it was not unusual for some children to get anxious when they had to speak in front of others. Mother, knowing her children, said, “Oh, okay. For now, let’s try something. Sit Shannon on one side of the classroom and Dre on the other. Let’s see how Dre’s class work looks after that.” Of course, mother was spot on, the next day Dre struggled. True to form, she told the teacher, “You need to do a better job paying attention to my children when they in yo class. I drop my son off to learn, dammit!”

Dre would go on to graduate to the next grade level. He didn’t have the highest marks, but it was his own hard work inspired by mother’s threats. Because his dyslexia remained undiagnosed, his frustration with school and learning made other paths more attractive. The last assignment I wrote for him was the five-hundred-word essay he was required to submit to juvenile court for getting caught stealing from a store.

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