I’m 16 and I stutter. This is what most people don’t understand

To truly understand what it means to stutter, let me describe my experience.

I’m standing at the front of an eighth-grade classroom full of people I’ve known all my life. They know I stutter, but that doesn’t make this debate in history class any easier. I present the final part of what I learned about the Supreme Court this year. The facts are simple and I know them well, but I don’t feel calm because just knowing the facts cannot help me here.

I start talking and everyone goes quiet. The eyes of twenty people I know so well are on me and I feel a tightness in my throat. My heart beats faster, and I feel my chest heating up. I say my sentence with great difficulty. I speak very quickly, but because I stutter so much, the actual words come out painfully slowly. The one or two minutes it takes feel like an eternity. I am filled with fear, anger and guilt.

As I say this, my thoughts are elsewhere. I should concentrate on what I’m saying, but I can’t. My mind thinks my classmates will think less of me after this.

The only voice I hear inside is the one that shouts, “YOU SHOULD be ashamed of your stutter” and “NOBODY STURMERS EXCEPT YOU.”

In reality, I should be proud that this debate is not an easy task, but it is not. As the debate progresses and my turn ends, I continue to think about what just happened. I wonder if anyone else realizes how much courage it takes to do what I just did: speak, to brave a stutter. But I know they don’t. They can’t. And that’s the worst.

A year later, my parents enrolled me in a speech therapy program at Emerson College in Boston. I learned to speak again. This was a difficult process that required patience and discipline. One activity I did in this program was walking up to a stranger in a park and asking him questions about stuttering. To a non-stutterer this might seem a little nerve-wracking, but to me it was terrifying. I walked up to the person, mentally thinking of all the bad things this stranger could say: maybe they’re telling me to go away, or maybe they don’t want to talk to a stutterer, or maybe they’re making fun of me. .

I walk up and say, “Hi, my name is Andrew Flint, and I stutter. During speech therapy I worked on my speech. Can I ask you four questions about stuttering? To my relief, they said I could. I asked them what they thought was the cause of their stuttering, whether they felt uncomfortable or embarrassed talking to a stutterer, whether they knew anyone who stuttered, and what they thought someone should do to overcome their stuttering . This interaction went perfectly. It was nothing like what I was afraid of.

Still, I was very afraid of the next one. The fear never completely goes away.

Every day is a good or a bad day for my speech. Some days I just stutter more. This is beyond my control.

The cause of stuttering is not known, but most researchers agree that there is also a neurological component a genetic component because it often runs in families.

If someone stutters, you may want to avoid eye contact or say words in front of him or her. Don’t do those things. It may be tempting to continue the conversation by saying the word they’re stuttering on, but doing so will only reinforce the belief that what they’re doing is abnormal, something they don’t need.

When I walked into my 10th grade history class last year, I knew my speech wouldn’t be good. My history class involved frequent discussions, and I knew I would develop a serious stutter in this. When I read aloud, I always choose the shortest paragraph and take the beginning sound into account. I find the letter “s” especially challenging.

As I read the paragraph, I got stuck on words here and there, but I was able to say them and continue speaking. Until I came across a word I couldn’t pronounce fluently: Massachusetts. I stuttered a lot; I quit and started again, but that didn’t help. After what felt like minutes, but was probably only about 20 seconds, a classmate whispered the word.

I thought, do they think I don’t know how to pronounce this word? I realized that people don’t know much about stuttering, even classmates I’ve known for years. Eventually I broke free and finished the paragraph. I was angry and irritated with the classmate – until I realized they were only trying to help.

I’m now in 11th grade and I came across a recording from my speech therapy of me reading a passage. Two years ago it took me 2 minutes and 34 seconds to read 129 words. I stuttered violently. When I reread the passage recently, it took me only 43 seconds. That’s a big improvement and I feel good about my growth.

I have learned that stuttering is part of who I am. My friends and family have accepted me regardless of my speech. They helped me face my fear, and I have come a long way on my stuttering journey.