一个路痴的“找路”人生

2017-10-25祝莉丽

新东方英语·中学版 2017年10期

祝莉丽

When I was six， I went to first grade in a little red schoolhouse that I thought of as "real school". And sometimes， I actually got to "go" there.

The little red schoolhouse was three blocks from where I lived， and sometimes I could talk—okay， beg—my mom into letting me walk to school. At these times， I'd proudly set out2） with my backpack and velcro shoes3） with R and L on the heels on a journey that would put Alexander the Great to shame4）.

I had exactly fourteen landmarks between my house and school. Some of the most interesting were The Nice Lady's House across the street， the Turn in the Sidewalk （which in high school I learned you could call a "street corner" without being arrested by the Spatial Grammar Police） and The Very Naughty Word in the Sidewalk.

It was two words， actually， and it was my favorite landmark of all. First of all， it was "words5）". I'd been reading for three years by then， and I had no problem knowing what it said—though I was in junior high before I knew what it meant. But， more than that， it was the last part， my last landmark， before I made it to school.

Sometimes I didn't make it to school. I would blank out6）， my mind going wherever it chooses to go when I'm finding my way somewhere， and I'd feel like I'd wander out too far into the ocean. Then I'd hear my name.

"Tera，" my mom would say. "Need a lift？"

I couldn't believe my luck. Here was my mom， passing by at the exact moment I'd lost my tenuous7） grip on spatial relations. （I wouldn't call it "getting lost"—most of the time I was going the right way： I just didn't know it）. So I'd hop into the car， not knowing until my later teens that Mom followed me to school whenever I went just in case something like this would happen， and all the hard work would be done for the day. For the most part.

I'm fairly atypical8） for someone with a learning disability in that9）， with the exception of math， academics were my"thing". The first day of first grade， I had intoxicating10） visions of writing reports on books fatter than War and Peace， and was heartily disappointed when our first assignment was to color pictures. Three years later， my social studies group nearly had me burned at the stake11） for wanting to write a report about the Omaha tribe12） when they wanted to make a diorama13）. （As far as I was concerned， dioramas were stupid—and evil）. We compromised： they made their diorama， and I happily wrote a report long enough for three people.endprint

Still， when it came to recess， I would have rather made dioramas. I had friends （my NLD， as far as I know， doesn't really affect my social skills）， but I could never find them on the playground. The teachers knew me well—and eventually had this to say to me：

"You're old enough to find Sheila [or Wes， or Rachel， or Lizzie] yourself."

Luckily， my friends were smarter than most adults that knew me and figured out how to wait for me outside my classroom for lunch and recess. I was assigned a "buddy" to walk with me to and from the higher reading class， and one to take me to the Resource Room. （I went to a Catholic grade school， and one unfortunate byproduct of the separation of church and state was that the special education teacher couldn't be in the school building）.

As I got higher up in education， school got easier and more fun. I haven't been assigned a diorama since junior high and I'm able to choose my own classes and interpret literature or history more than build things and read charts. Now I'm a junior at Agnes Scott College in Decatur， Georgia （it's academically challenging， liberal artsy， and， best of all， small） where I'm majoring in Classics and English/Creative Writing. I don't drive （to the great shock of a girl I knew in high school who said， "But you're one of the smartest people in school！"）， but I enjoy translating and have more Latin， Greek， and ancient history books than is healthy14） for most people. And if you were to ask me who my favorite mythological person is， I'd have to say Odysseus15）. After all， it took him ten years to get home.

六岁的时候，我去一个很小的红色校舍里上一年级，我觉得那是所“真正的学校”。有时候，我真的不得不“走去”上学。

那个红色的小校舍和我住的地方隔着三个街区，有时候，我会说服，好吧，是央求妈妈让我走路去上学。在那些日子，我会骄傲地背着双肩包出发，脚上穿着一双魔术贴童鞋，鞋跟上还标记着“左”“右”，就这样踏上一段让亚历山大大帝都会自愧不如的旅程。

在家和学校之间，我有不多不少14个地标。其中最有趣的几个分别是：街道对面的好心太太家；人行道的拐弯处（在高中我才知道你可以叫它“街角”，并且不会因此被“空间语法警察”逮捕）；以及路边人行道上出现的那个非常不文明的詞语。

实际上，那是两个单词，是我最喜欢的地标。首先，那可是“词语”呀。那时我已经学习阅读三年了，认出这两个词毫不费力——尽管我在上初中后才了解它的意思。但是，更重要的是，那是这段路的最后一截，是我上学路上最后一个地标。

有时候，我没能走到学校。我的大脑会一片空白，当我在某个地方找路的时候，我的思绪却随心所欲地飘荡，我会觉得自己游荡得太远了，到了汪洋大海里。接着，我就会听到有人叫我。

“特拉，”我的妈妈会说，“需要载你一程吗？”

我不敢相信自己的运气竟然这么好。妈妈就在这里，就在我失去对空间关系的微弱把握时，她恰好从这里经过。（我才不会把我的状况称为“迷路”呢——多数情况下我都走对了，只是我不知道罢了。）于是我会跳上妈妈的车，然后一天中所有的困难部分就完成了，多数时候都是如此。直到十几岁时我才知道，妈妈在我每次步行去学校的时候都会跟着我，以防发生类似的事情。

我差不多是一个非典型的学习障碍患者，因为除了数学，学术都是我的“菜”。一年级的第一天，我还兴奋地幻想着能为比《战争与和平》还要厚的书写写读书报告，所以当得知我们的第一个作业是给图片涂色时，我打心眼儿里感到失望。三年以后，我的社会学习小组差点儿严厉地惩罚我，因为我想写一个有关奥马哈部落的报告，而他们想做一个立体模型。（在我看来，立体模型又愚蠢又讨厌。）我们各让了一步：他们做他们的立体模型，我开心地写了一份报告，字数足够三个人的作业要求。endprint

不过，课间休息时，我却宁愿去做立体模型也不想出去。我有朋友（據我所知，我的非语言学习障碍并不会真的影响我的社交技巧），但我在操场上从来找不到他们。老师们非常了解我，最后他们对我说：

“你都这么大了，可以自己去找希拉（或韦斯，或蕾切尔，或莉齐）了。”

幸运的是，我的朋友们比多数认识我的成年人都要聪明，他们弄明白了要怎么在教室外面等着我一起去吃午饭或度过课间休息时间。我被分配了一位“哥们儿”，他和我一起走去上高级阅读课，下课后一起回来。还有一个哥们儿会带我去资源教室。（我上的是一所天主教小学，政教分离造成了一个令人遗憾的后果，那就是特殊教育课的老师不能进教会学校的教学楼。）

随着年级的增长，上学变得更容易也更有趣了。自初中起，老师就再没给我留过立体模型的作业，而我也可以自己选课，自己阐释文学或历史，而不是建构东西或去看图表。现在，我是位于乔治亚州迪凯特的阿格尼斯斯科特学院大三的学生了（这所学院极具学术挑战性，充满自由主义艺术氛围，而且最棒的是，它很小）。我在这里主修古典文学和英语/创意写作。我不开车（我在高中认识的一个女孩对此感到震惊，她说：“你可是学校里最聪明的人之一啊！”），但是，我享受翻译，比多数人阅读更多有关拉丁语、希腊语和古代历史的书籍。如果你问我最喜欢的神话人物是谁，我一定会说是奥德修斯。毕竟，他用了十年时间才回到家里。

1. 作者是一个非语言学习障碍患者（Nonverbal Learning Disorder，简称NLD），这类人群在语言上有优势，但可能在视觉空间和社交技巧上有障碍。从文中可以看出，作者最大的特点就是找不到路，严重到去了操场回头就找不到教室的地步，同时作者也非常不擅长数学。

2. set out：动身；出发；启程

3. velcro shoes：魔术贴童鞋

4. 由于作者在视觉空间方面的障碍，找起路来对她无比艰难，所以她觉得自己独自走到学校是一件困难无比但又非常值得骄傲的事情，连亚历山大大帝本人也会感到羞愧。当然在这里作者只是用了夸张的手法，从中足见作者的幽默。

5. 由于作者是非语言型学习障碍患者，语言对她来说是强项，所以她很喜欢文字。文中加引号是用来表示强调——正因为那是词语，而非她难以处理的空间之类的东西，所以即使是不文明的词语，也不妨碍那成为她最喜欢的地标。

6. blank out：（大脑）突然一片空白

7. tenuous [.tenju.s] adj. （联系）脆弱的；（理由）站不住脚的，牵强的；（地位）不稳固的

8. atypical [.e..t.p.kl] adj. 非典型的

9. in that：由于

10. intoxicating [.n.t.ks.ke.t..] adj. 令人陶醉的；令人极其兴奋的

11. burn （sb.） at the stake：严厉地惩罚某人

12. Omaha tribe：奥马哈部落，中西部美国土著