The world doesn't understand stuttering
For 10 seconds everything stops. The room goes silent. My body is filled with struggle and desperation as I try to get the sound out. Fifty pairs of eyes glued on me, staring intently and curiously, as if I’m a mutant creature they’ve never seen before. I haven’t had someone blatantly laugh at me in years. But it didn’t take long to remember the feeling. Suddenly, I’m 15 again, in that high school classroom with everyone staring at me wondering why I can’t say my own name. They look at each other as I contort my face trying to say the sound. The silence is broken by shrieks of laughter, coming from the guy behind me. Joining him is the professor, who chuckles and says, “ooook we’re just going to move on then.” Instinctively, I turned to the guy laughing and asked, “What are you laughing at?” and added, “Just so you know, I stutter, that’s what that was. It takes me a little longer to talk.” Under his breath, he muttered “Sorry” and said no more. Not that day and not ever again. There a...