Dear Borderline,
I have seen your details in the HardmanDirectory and thought that I would shoot you off a letter and see if
you happened to have any dictionaries in stock at the moment. I am,
well was, a showman (I grew up on the fairground) and it was not
until I decided to leave the fairground that I thought about learning
to read and write. So two years later I went to a college open day
and said, “Look, I'm 18 years old, I can't read or write, can you
help me?” The lady at the college said that they were holding
English diagnostics at two o'clock and to come back then. So I went
away and looked around at all the stalls for the various courses
(using the good old trick of, “Ah, so what is this all about then?”
So I knew what courses were what, as I didn't have a bloody clue what
any of the signs for the courses said). I returned at two o'clock and
sat the diagnostic (quite literally SAT the diagnostic as I had no
clue what anything said on the screen – apart from "start". I
recognised that as we have that on the control panels for the rides).
I really did try my hardest, but to re-word a well known phrase
slightly, it was extremely difficult when everything was “literally”
a foreign language to you.
To shorten, what could be a story the
“author” drags on forever, I waited about an hour for my results
and then they were in! (I say that with emphasis, because even
sitting here now writing this, I still cannot believe what happened
next!) All the people that completed the diagnostics, myself
included, were called into a classroom on the ground floor by this
ridiculously stern looking lady. We all sat at the desks which were
sat out 3 wide in a row backwards from the front of the class. One,
by one, I sat and watched as she called people up to the front of the
room, she gave them all a piece of paper and muttered something, all
without using any facial expression that might put the potential
student at ease. Then without warning, 5 students in she called my
name. I got up out of the chair and approached the desk at which she
was standing (it was probably at this point blatently obvious that I
did not have high hopes of what was to come, but I certainly was not
expecting this!)
“Is this a joke D---!?” she
shouted at the top of her voice. “You are working at the level of a
3 year old according to this, very funny, we clearly have a class
clown here.” I tried to interject but she still continued, “Right
everyone, D---- here appears to think that it is funny to piss about
and make out that he can't read or write, he also thinks it's funny
to make out that this diagnostic was completed by a 3 year old, well
actually on 2nd thoughts my 3 year old daughter could have
done better than that! Let this be an example to all of you, don't
f**k about and act like kids, you're at college now, you're adults
now so act like them. We don't take fools lightly here.”
Now I am usually extremely polite as
that is how I brought up. But I will allow for this one slip-up given
the cirumstances. When she had finished her rant I calmly said,
“Miss, if you are quite finished, there is no clowning around here,
I am from a family of showmen and have never learnt to read or write
as I have been brought up travelling the country providing fairs for
amazing, decent people like yourself, which I must admit that I have
fully enjoyed my life, but I have always believed that there is
something more to life. So I am here to learn, and from the sounds of
it, you have got your job cut out, because I'm reading and writing at
the level of a 3 year old.
I do apologise for going off on a
massive tangent, I was trying to get to a point where I could explain
that although I had the college providing teaching and the courses, I
had to rely heavily on charities like yourself for books and course
workbooks, as I literally don't have a penny. (This was because my
family turned their backs on me when I left the fair to find
education, because my dad wanted me to inherit all the rides and take
over the family business - but that in itself is a whole different
story.)
So I believe what you do for prisoners
is amazing. My handwriting was horrific and I just happened to
mention it in passing to the charity, two weeks later I received a
handwriting book in the post. I practiced and practiced for months on
end, and now I am at a level where it is at least legible – my
spelling needs major work though and has become my biggest pet hate,
hence one of the reasons why I'm asking for a dictionary.
Again I am really sorry for rambling, I
just hope that my appreciation for what you do comes across during
the later part.
Yours faithfully,
DK
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