Last month’s post  “Love Story” spoke of the wonder of our children and the fact that we entrust them to the institutions that make up our society from a very early age.  With that comes our responsibility to look outside ourselves to do the best we can for our loved ones.  This month’s heartfelt poem “Love Story ? ” moves from parents’ perspective to that of a child.  These words are a collage from students who have tried their best, whose parents have tried their best, and yet their learning continues to be a very ‘trying’ experience.  These are the students I work with so I can help them learn how to use their great brain and it ‘s natural way of thinking to their advantage.   They come to me already smart; and leave with the pride that they now know how to use their natural way of thinking to succeed.

Love Story?

How can you love me when I am bad.

Oh, I’m not bad?

OK, then why do I get into trouble because I didn’t bring home a good report card.  I am trying.

No, I am not lazy.

Yes, I did forget to get that done.

Yes I did know how to do that, but when I got to the test, I just blanked out.

I know it, I just can’t say it.   I know it, I just can’t write it.

Yes, I did speak up when the teacher said that rotten thing to a kid in our class.

I do like it better in the Silent Room.

Yes, I had to stand up for myself on the playground.

But they don’t like me.  I can’t do stuff as quick as them.  I just hate having to go to school.

Can’t I stay home today?

I have to go to school. I’ll find a way to get the kids to pay attention to me.

My mom/dad believes me, but my dad/mom doesn’t and they fight about it.

I can’t go there anymore.

I asked to be checked for a reason that I can’t do it the way they want me to do it, but they said I was smart and if I did better I’d lose my ranking with the kids who know me.  I tried taking that drug, but it didn’t work for me.  It worked for a kid I know but I must be different than him/her.

I stayed after school; I helped the teacher; he tried to get me to understand it, but he never explained it different than he did in class.  I still don’t get it.

I don’t want to try anymore.  Please let me do this on my own.  I want to be able to talk about the stories my friends read, but I just can’t read them as fast and understand them.  How can you love me when I’m bad?