Thank you Thank you Thank you

Parker who sits at my table in English class, for not forcing me to read a poem in front of the whole class tomorrow.  I can't read out loud to save my life.  I stutter and I mix up words and lose my place and it's not good.  Maybe it's out of pity, maybe it's because you don't want me messing up the presentation, maybe you've finally decided to do work and not leave it all to Sydney and I.
But Sarah.  Honestly?  It's not ok to ask someone what's wrong with them.  Yeah.  I know I hold index cards under words while I read, and I'm a slow reader.  I know that my first draft of writing has silly errors on things I know how to spell, and I mix up simple words.  I know, and I don't need you telling me.
It's not right to ask someone, "How did you get into Honors English?  You're half-illiterate.  What's wrong with you, anyway?"
Ok.  And you're saying that while not actually doing any work yourself.  While you've been sitting back this whole time letting me and Sydney do the work, and just because Parker volunteered to do something doesn't give you the right to be a jerk.
And for your information, I can read and write perfectly well.  I'm writing (and editing) this blog post, aren't I, half hoping you'll read it?  It's called dyslexia, and no it's not a synonym for stupid.  And to answer your question, I got into Honors English by working as hard as I possibly could and editing my work like crazy.  And I'm smarter than you think I am.