Let me tell from personal experience, If your neurologically different your screwed in the education system here, and live in canada. Now granted we have fewer problem then the americans do, we have a huge issue with disability services where I live. I have high functioning autism and disgrafia, and was diagnosed with adhd and left on Ritalin for 10 years, that has one hell of a withdrawal leading to some terrible craziness. On top of that I was forced to hand write my notes for years (until grade 10) because my parents didn't have the money for a laptop for me and school refused to help, It was not until my final year that I was in a resource room for tests with a scribe (I had fail countless tests even when getting the answer right because my hand writing is illegible.)
Even worse my fiancée who has cerebral palsy was was told in elementary school by her teachers that she didn't need her books and that a education was wasted on her, and then when she was in high school they put her in a learning center for 2 years, despite her urging for academic classes ( she does have trouble with math and studying). Now she has just finished a diploma in human services and is studying a bachelor degree
))
Even worse my fiancée who has cerebral palsy was was told in elementary school by her teachers that she didn't need her books and that a education was wasted on her, and then when she was in high school they put her in a learning center for 2 years, despite her urging for academic classes ( she does have trouble with math and studying). Now she has just finished a diploma in human services and is studying a bachelor degree
))
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
