January 15, 1994. I’m ten years old and am in the fourth grade. It’s nine o’clock at night and I should be asleep; however, I still have an hour or more left of studying.
“I hate spelling,” I say to my mother. “Why can’t things be spelt the way they sound?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “Hurry up now. I have to go to work in the morning. Only ten more words to memorize.”
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