Dear Teen Me: Authors Write Letters to Their Teen Selves (True Stories) by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

matter. Because you know what? You suddenly felt much lighter.

    Daniel Ehrenhaft is the author of far too many books for children and young adults. He has often written under the pseudonym Daniel Parker (his middle name, which is easier to spell and pronounce than his last), and occasionally Erin Haft. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife, Jessica; their son, Nate; their scruffy dog, Gibby; and their psychotic cat, Bootsy. When he isn’t writing, Mr. Ehrenhaft is the editorial director of Soho Teen, at Soho Press. As evidenced from the photo at right, he has been a musician since the late 1970s, and he is a member of Tiger Beat, the only YA author band on the planet. Other work experience includes a short term of employment at the Columbia University Library. He was fired.

LOSING YOUR SIGHT SHOULDN’T MEAN LOSING YOUR RIGHTS
    Laura Ellen
    Dear Teen Me,
    There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. The way you see—you know, with that sunspot-like-thing that blocks your central vision? That’s not normal. In a few days you’re going to go to the eye doctor and he’s going to tell you that you have an eye disease called macular degeneration.
    Okay, stop freaking out. It doesn’t mean you’re dying. But it does mean that you have a label now, “visually impaired,” which will affect how others see you—and, unfortunately, how you see yourself.
    I won’t lie. Life is about to get really hard. At times it will downright suck, especially when you discover there are things others take for granted that you just can’t do. Like drive, or read regular print, or see faces unless you’re really close up (and even then you’ll have to look at their ears to see their eyes). Weird, I know.
    But seriously, who cares? Most of the people in New York don’t drive, and there are audio books and magnifying glasses and ways to make print really big…. It never gets easy staring at ears, and there’s no surefire way to deal with the jerks who embarrass you by looking all around before asking, “Are you talking to me?” And yes, all of that stuff will make you feel flawed and “abnormal.” But normal is boring. It’s predictable and monotonous. “Different,” though, different is cool and intriguing and way more fun.
    Some of your teachers will try to pretend you see like everyone else, however—because being different means more work for them. They don’t want to type their tests, because they’re used to handwriting them at the last minute, and they don’t want to print their lecture notes in advance, because they actually don’t have any notes; they usually just wing it.
    But try to understand: Their refusal to help has nothing to do with you. They’re tired and overworked and set in their ways. They’ve lost sight of the fact that their job is to teach. They see your request for accommodations as annoying and time-consuming, rather than what it is—your only way to access the material.
    Shake their behavior off. I promise, for the handful of rude and ignorant teachers that you’ll have to deal with, there will be so many more who will go above and beyond for you—like the school nurse. She’ll spend hours enlarging Emma and other novels for you on the school copier whenever a large-print version isn’t available.
    Like I said, don’t let those other people stress you out—but don’t stand for their ignorance either. You aren’t being difficult. It’s your right to ask for those accommodations. Don’t sit red-faced and silent when that history teacher hands you an illegible, handwritten test for the twentieth time. Don’t cower in the corner when that Spanish teacher writes the entire exam on the board and doesn’t let you get out of your seat to read it.
    Stand up for yourself.
    I know, as shy and timid as you are, it’s hard to imagine pushing back, but do it. If you don’t, no one else will. Those teachers are banking on your passivity, so that they can continue to sit and be passive