Anthony Hamilton, a writer who lives in Hayward, California. He is the author of several books, including; The Autobiography of ‘Strong Child and Shattered Lives’.

1. As a child, I wasn’t taught the importance of an education,
let alone how to use an adjective.
I lived in the projects,
and it smelled of despair.
The only way out was by
playing professional ball
or hustling.

2. We never talked about school as the ticket to a future. School,
for me, wasn’t about class work.
I was given 25 cents and
a free lunch ticket five
times a week. My mama
signed on the dotted line
to make sure I got the
lunch as I needed it.

3. I was in classrooms, but I wasn’t there to learn how to
write or read or even speak.
Being unable to
verbally formulate what
it was I was feeling
inside kept me angry.

4. Teachers handed out worksheets I couldn’t comprehend.
When it came time for me to read, I wanted to hide; I was
ready to vomit almost all the time.
I cried constantly — not
literally; my tears fell inside
me. I was 13 years old, but I
already hated being who I
was.

5. I had an English teacher, Mr. Creech, who was part of my
nightmare. He knew, he knew I was assigned to only two
regular classes a day and that the one class I attended.
The majority of the day was
full of mentally challenged
students. He knew I
couldn’t read, and he
found it necessary to
expose my secret.

6. He would turn to me: “Anthony,” he’d say, “why don’t you
read the next paragraph?”
I didn’t even know what a paragraph was.
I would try to read what was
in front of me, valiantly, but
the mere sound of my voice
incited instantaneous
laughter.
It was a lack of craving for an
education.

7. For years I dwelled inside the walls of my inadequacies,
attempting to dismantle them brick by brick.
Knowing my own failure,
though, made me reluctant
to fix it; I hated the thought
of reading because I knew I
couldn’t do it.

8. It was a cycle I couldn’t break out of. How did this happen?
It was the school and the teachers who didn’t encourage me,
but it was also my
parents who never told
me to focus on my
education, and it was
me for giving up.

9. I was 41 years old when I flew back to Texas to visit friends
and family. On my way from the airport,…
…my best friend suggested
we have a drink at a
nearby bar.
As my friend and I sat at the
bar, I saw someone across
the smoke-filled room.

10. It was Mr. Creech, leaning over to buy himself a drink.
I rushed over and reached into my pocket to pay for him.
“Do I know you?” he asked,
“Yes, sir, you do know
me,” I answered.
“My name is Anthony
Hamilton, and I was in
your fourth-period class

11. ”The look on his face told me that he remembered the boy
he’d once shamed. “I’m so glad I had a chance to see you,
I said.“
“And Mr. Creech, I have
great news to share. ” I
told him, I had learned
to read.

12. But that wasn’t all. I had become a published author and a
motivational speaker. I told him I wanted him to do me a
favor. He asked what it was.
“The next time you get
another Anthony
Hamilton in your
classroom, please teach
him how to read.”

13. The experts say that what once disabled me has a name;
Dyslexia. I can tell you it was something else as well.
It was a lack of craving
for an education.
That’s far from my life
today.

14. My belly now hungers for the verbs and the adjectives, the
synonyms and the paragraphs. I write to be the author of
my life and for Faith in another sort of Author of my life.
If it were not for my Father
in Heaven, I would
possess no expression.
And I write to give back.

15. I write because of the boy in the community college
classroom here in Hayward, California, who read my book,
for the teacher who put my book on the syllabus,
and for the people who
have read me and tell me,
humbling me, that they
found some kind of
meaning in what I have
put down in words.

16. ANTHONY HAMILTON
Anthony Hamilton, a writer
who lives in Hayward,
California.
He is the author of several
books, including;
The Autobiography of
‘Strong Child and
Shattered Lives’.