I once was called to the school to discuss my son’s lack of “impulse control” with an indignant young overweight teacher. She droned on at me and my son for a while about ways “to gain control of one’s impulses” until my son politely pointed out that she lacked that same impulse control because he could see her sneaking bites from candy bars she kept in her desk when she thought the kids were studying.
For every concerned parent who may be sitting at one of those small desks with your knees near your ears, this month for the parent/teacher meeting, wherein you are told your precious one, whom you KNOW is smart, exciting and articulate, is a 'problem' for the teacher. S/he may not be turning the homework in, could be looking out the window, and may not `follow directions' and certainly not attending to the teacher. S/he may, not be able to read, not be able to spell, may talk too much...
This book will bring a gust of vibrant fresh air to your soul. It is a must to read for any parent or caring person who sees a child struggling with the school systems.
I could not read well when I was in the first grade; I was put in the slow group. Back then, no one knew what dyslexia was. I drew and painted wonderful pink pigs and was told pigs weren't pink, but instead brown, rather like my teacher's personality. I stood in the corner a lot and got failing grades in `citizenship' because I liked to tell stories and my classmates loved to listen to me.
My twin daughters could not read until they were almost nine, but when they finally read, they read Shakespeare.
Do not let the dullards of the linear plodding, miasma; convince you that you have a lazy child or low IQ child or your little one needs drugs to get along with the school system. Don't spank and jawbone the precious one and don't take it personally that they are slower. My grandmother told my mother my development was about QUALITY- not QUANTITY.
Read this book; better still, get it in some audio version, or have your Kindle read it to you as you, too, multi-task. Rejoice that you have a child with a light from which the bushel basket can be removed so they can light the world anew.
One of the subjects of the book graduated from my high school in Richardson, Texas; I saw and experienced much of her same frustration.
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