uncharted

"So." He closes the book , taps the cover. "Did I do good?" It's a quiet but sincere question.

I nod encouragingly, knowing he's tried hard, thinking this might kind of work, knowing he's not the only one glad for confirmation. This is not exactly my area.

True that he grew up speaking Portuguese and is not an expert speaker of English. True that I've spent years helping kids get from nothing to more-or-less proficient. But my charge, at the moment, specifically, is to try teach this boy to read. A skill he has never gotten the hang of, in any language, ever. He's a ninth grader, and he is sixteen. He's smart and knows a lot of things--that much is clear even from the facts he offers from the periphery of my Civics class: multi-tasking is unavoidable--but a certain part of his mind is frustratingly mis-wired.

What he is able to talk about, even in English, he may never be able to read or write about, unless of course he is. How to sort that all out is our understated challenge. Oh, for some sort of divining rod. In the meantime I wing it, as always.

Safe to say I won't be working any miracles as I feel my way down this path. But if it feels to him like worthwhile work. . . if it feels to him like progress. Well. He knows where he's been before. If he'll go willingly with me, maybe that's the first step to something.