had one hour to do class planning every day. While her first-graders were in gym, she sat behind her desk and reread the afternoon’s reading lesson. She was just beginning the slippery trek into phonics and needed to remain focused. Twenty six-year-olds were full of energy and inquisitiveness. Neither of which made them ready to focus on learning to read.
She rearranged the flash cards with the sight words she would start with, and a memory from the past sneaked up on her.
She and Ty were back in school. He’d been studying for an exam in his literature class. Ty was a whiz with numbers but hated reading classic literature or poetry. So she’d come up with the idea to write the poet’s name on one side of the card and a passage from one of his/her more notable works on the other.
They were in her dorm, she lying across her bed while Ty sat on the floor dribbling a basketball with the finesse of an NBA player. She’d flash him a card. His dark eyes would shift away from his hand and the ball for just a second, and then he’d recite the passage on the other side of the card. It had been when she’d flashed the card that read “Lady Montagu” and his immediate, unwavering response had been, “The man who feels the dear disease, Forgets himself, neglects to please, The crowd avoids, and seeks the groves, And much he thinks when much he loves.” At that very moment Felicia knew without a doubt she was in love with him.
He’d spoken the words with such sincerity, such heartfelt honesty, that she’d believed he was speaking them directly to her instead of simply reciting the passage from memory.
“Can I put the names on the board for rec time, Mrs. Braddock?”
The high-pitched voice of one of her students interrupted the memory, and Felicia cleared her throat.
“Madeline, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in gym.” Madeline Yi was a precocious, cheerful girl of Asian descent. Her inky hair, adorable round cheeks and inquisitive nature were a highlight to Felicia’s day.
“I got my good shoes on so I can’t pissisipate,” Madeline said, her tongue slipping through the gap where her two front teeth used to be.
Felicia looked down to see that the child did, in fact, have on a lovely pair of patent leather shoes. Totally unsuitable for playing dodgeball. “The word is participate, ” she gently corrected while standing up behind her desk. “We’ll have to find something for you to do then.”
“I can put the names on the board for rec,” Madeline insisted.
“No. I’ll do that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the teacher,” Felicia answered as the little girl followed her around the classroom.
“But I can be your helper.”
“Yes. You can. And I’m going to find something for you to help me with.” Felicia continued to look around her cheerfully decorated classroom for an assignment. She could have Madeline reorder the numbers for their leapfrog calendar, or she could put Madeline in charge of the booklets for the phonics lesson. However, she got the impression that Madeline was sure of what she wanted to do.
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