Translated…
A new student came to my essay class, she always hurried here from her afterschool program, and after class, she’d, hurried off, in order, to catch her swim lessons that’s held, at a different place, and maybe, it’d because of how hectic her schedules were, she’d often, gotten the wrong backpacks, or forgotten her textbooks.
And so, I’d, automatically, placed my text onto her desk, so she could, get caught up, but, she’d often shown up to class too stressed out, to tired, in a blink of an eye, she’d already started, sitting, cross legged and slouched into her seat. During a classroom session, I’d had to constantly remind her, she’d lifted up her head, and said, in a hurried way, “I’m really very sorry!”
I’d heard how serious her voice was, and I’d focused my eyes to gaze upon her, her face was still, in a daze, and, her two allergic eyes that were, reddened behind those purple rimmed glasses often looked especially hollowed, I’d felt, that her apologies were more like a reflex. Several time, I’d watched her in her uncontrolled panic, I’d felt, so awful for her.
As she’d gotten into the higher grades, but her oral expression and written skills were only at the third, fourth grade levels, I’d once called her parents in, the parents said they knew that their child wasn’t smart naturally, so there was this, limit to how much she’s able to learn; and so, her parents didn’t have any higher expectations for her in grades, just hoped that the teachers can be patient with her, so she could slowly, catch up to the rest of the class. Because even as her parents, work with her one-one-one, she’d still learned very slowly. I can hear how there’s that scent of helplessness, in her parents’ voice as they’d told of the progresses their daughter was making.
In order to keep her focused on learning, I’d taught her, to place her finger at the line we were discussing, it’s just, that she has a hard time keeping her concentration, and liked rummaging through her pencil box, and, the class periods are like a game of “Simon Says” with her.
When it came time for the essays, I’d moved with her, to the corner of the class, I’d encouraged her to express herself verbally, through guessing and putting the thoughts together, we’d written down what she wanted to say in a list, then, I’d asked questions about each item she’d put down, and help her put it all together, and slowly, she’d started writing, essays.
Recalling how as we’d discussed the writing topics of “On the Way Home”, she’d said, that once she’d gone home alone, and it’d rained all of a sudden, and, the raindrops slid down from her umbrella as well as from the walls with the ads pasted on them; passed through an assortment of stands, she saw an assortment of different colored bottles, she’d loved the pink bottles, the strawberry flavored drinks, and her younger sister loved the milk flavored.
That, was the very first time she’d spoken so many words after we’d worked together for six months, I was so overjoyed, I’d drawn a smiley face on her writing assignment book, and perhaps, she was also, infected with my sense of surprise too, she’d started, smiling that light smile too, and finally, we’d found a way, to communicate with one another, I believe.
And so, this, is a child with problems with focusing her attention, and, the writing instructor didn’t give up on this child, she’d worked harder with the young girl, and, eventually, the child started showing progress, that just shows, that there are NO kids who can’t learn, only instructors who hadn’t found the right way to teach the child yet.