Jase:
He walks with surety that would strike fear in the hearts of those around him. He's a wild animal who's been cornered. A huge glittering watch covers his wrist. He's so proud of that watch. His body language screams, "Don't touch me!" but his eyes cry out for help. He's only 8 years old.
I wanted to help him read better, to help him solve the unique problems he had. But more than that... I wanted to help him be himself. Little by little I broke open that boxy cage that he had been squeezed into. We played games. I joked with him. I tried again and again to get him to give me a hearty high five.
We were making progress. He was reading quicker and with more confidence. One day, he was so tense, so on edge. I offered to just read to him this time. Two pages later, his little eyes drooped and he laid his head against my arm. I let him rest.
I saw him walking through the hall yesterday. He still walked with that alert surety, but maybe his eyes were a little brighter. He came up to me and asked toughly, "Why don't you read with me anymore?" I explained to him how our schedules had changed, and that I had read to other boys and girls now. He nodded calmly and turned to walk away. I wanted to wrap my arms around him but knew I couldn't.
Someone, please, give him a hug. Don't let him be forgotten.
He walks with surety that would strike fear in the hearts of those around him. He's a wild animal who's been cornered. A huge glittering watch covers his wrist. He's so proud of that watch. His body language screams, "Don't touch me!" but his eyes cry out for help. He's only 8 years old.
I wanted to help him read better, to help him solve the unique problems he had. But more than that... I wanted to help him be himself. Little by little I broke open that boxy cage that he had been squeezed into. We played games. I joked with him. I tried again and again to get him to give me a hearty high five.
We were making progress. He was reading quicker and with more confidence. One day, he was so tense, so on edge. I offered to just read to him this time. Two pages later, his little eyes drooped and he laid his head against my arm. I let him rest.
I saw him walking through the hall yesterday. He still walked with that alert surety, but maybe his eyes were a little brighter. He came up to me and asked toughly, "Why don't you read with me anymore?" I explained to him how our schedules had changed, and that I had read to other boys and girls now. He nodded calmly and turned to walk away. I wanted to wrap my arms around him but knew I couldn't.
Someone, please, give him a hug. Don't let him be forgotten.