What teachers work for

He struggled for weeks just trying to associate the sounds with the letters. He couldn't understand why he was so good at math but when it came to reading, no one stumbled on the simplest of words like he did. He felt stupid every time he missed a sound. But he wouldn't give up, no he wouldn't give up.

His teacher wouldn't give up on him either, and for that he was grateful. He didn't know how to tell her how much he appreciated her doggedness and determination to help him read. She told him he was smart, and he wanted to believe her, but there again were those words... and he knew f-a-t read fat, and he knew s-a-t read sat, and m-a-t read mat, but when she showed him m-a-d, he wanted to say mat, but he knew it wasn't mat, and it wasn't sat.

It was so frustrating. Day after day, while the other kids read four and five letter words, and read long sentences, and even entire pages in books, he still could not distinguish h-i-t from h-a-t. But he tried, and he tried, and each day, another letter/sound became etched on his brain, and he was able to identify the starting letters/sounds of words.

He gained confidence in his copying skills... man, could he copy a sentence accurately, and beautifully. His handwriting was better than any of the others in the class... and he knew it. It made him feel better to know that his printing was so perfect, and the letters and words spaced just so. The teacher often looked in awe at his handwriting. If only he could read what he was writing. Sometimes he'd memorize his sentences so he could act like he was reading them, but he knew. He knew he couldn't read them.

More than three months passed before the light flickered on in his mind. Three months of daily reading words with three sounds, fourteen weeks of trying to recognize the first sounds of words and not mix them up with the last sounds of words. Nearly a hundred days of forming words with short vowels, and he found he was getting stronger somehow. It started making sense to him.

And one day, one day this week in fact, this first grader read a page of words... words with three sounds, and he put the sounds together with a little effort, notthe struggling kind of effort he started out with in September, but the easy hesitation that comes with some familiarity and a little uncertainty ... he read fifteen words with the short vowel a, and didn't miss a one.

He was so excited (as was his teacher, you can imagine) that he asked to read another page of words, with the short vowel i, and though she generally did not word chart more than one page in one day, she made an allowance for him. He read them all without missing a one. Still filled with exuberance, he asked to read another page of fifteen words, and he did so, making only one error.

There was a feeling of celebration this morning when this happened in my classroom. I could only reach across his desk and kiss the top of his little boy head I was that happy. His grin was wider than the span of his arms, let me tell you. Three other students in the classroom, who have been watching his efforts to read while they've been working on improving their own deficits in math and reading, were happy with him, and gave him high fives. Nothing could have been a sweeter or a more satisfying response than what I witnessed this morning.

I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a bit like Miss Annie when Helen Keller finally understood the signs Annie had been drawing in her hands.

Moments like these are what teachers work for.  Perhaps even live for.

Amen and amen.

                                                                                    

 

                                                                              Dancing Panda by Shelly