Not for the easily offended . . .

I never know what will motivate a particular student in the beginning. D., one of my kids with autism, informed me from the beginning that he didn't do games. He just wanted to get the tutoring over with and he stoically endured whatever I asked him to do, as long as it wasn't games. He seemed totally uninterested in learning to read. That changed when we got to consonant digraphs.

As my students should be able to tell you, a consonant digraph is two letters that make one sound. We had finished with sh and were working on -ck, always a dangerous one with seventh grade boys. I placed the letter tiles to make the word ship on the magnet board. He read it in his usual monotone voice. Suddenly he froze, staring at the word. I waited, curious as to what had finally captured his attention. His hand reached out and replaced the p with a t. Then he looked up at me questioningly. "Yes," I said, "that says exactly what you think it does. But we don't use words like that in tutoring." I put the magnets back in their places, trying hard to keep a straight face.

A few minutes later, I noticed the -ck tile was missing. I didn't say anything. But when the f tile went missing as well, I put on my stern voice. "D., you need to put those back. I said we didn't use words like that." His face was so crestfallen that I couldn't stand it. "But if we did," I continued, "what vowel would you use?" "U! u! u!" he shouted. "I've always wanted to know how to spell those words!"

He never again tried out dirty words on me. But he had a whole new interest in learning to read. Within three years this nonreader was reading on a twelfth grade level. Sometimes it's all in the motivation.

Losing a student

I found out Wednesday that one of my students is moving after Christmas and will not return to his school. And so next Friday, I'll say goodbye to my little guy who works for Legos. My goal is always to get the student to the point where he or she no longer needs me, and when this happens, it's cause for celebration. But this child struggles so and he has only mastered a few consonants and two short vowels. He's leaving a private school for a public school, which means a private tutor won't be allowed in to help. He will easily qualify for an IEP, but that process is so long and time-consuming, and there is no guarantee that there will be any continuity of instruction. It seems every time a child goes to a new school, they want to try all the things that didn't work in the old school. I feel sad that he is leaving, but I understand.

It's a little harder when I don't understand. Last year I had a young girl who was a total nonreader when we began. She soaked up the information I gave her with great enthusiasm and learned quickly. In a few short months she progressed at least two years. The parents seemed pleased, but then stopped the tutoring cordially but abruptly with no explanation.

Then there are the times that I am the one who ends the tutoring relationship. Occasionally it's because I am not the right tutor for the child; perhaps he needs organizational guidance and homework help rather than reading. Perhaps she needs more in-depth composition work than I do. I always explain that it's MY lack of knowledge and try to leave the parents with one or two good names that might be more appropriate. Parents pay a lot of money and I want them to get their money's worth.

There have been a few times in the past years that I ended tutoring for other reasons. Once I got caught up in an ugly custody dispute and the writing the student did for me was subpoenaed. I have stopped at least twice because the parents regularly forgot tutoring and didn't show. Once I had a parent tell me they couldn't pay me because, if they did, there might not be enough for their skiing vacation to Vail. The child that haunts me though is one from many years ago. At first glance his mom was so interested and involved. But then I realized she called every teacher every night, and I spent unpaid hours on the phone with her. If the child expressed an interest in something, the mother would sign both of them up for lessons, buy books, rent movies. This middle school child was denied the chance to have any interests of his own and I watched him withdraw more and more, from me, his friends, and his teachers. It wasn't abuse under the law so I couldn't report it. But it was abuse nonetheless, and I could no longer be a part of it.

December's rant

You know what really annoys me? People who can't keep their its straight. I'm not talking about kids writing a first draft or people scribbling a quick note. I'm talking about people with editors or public relations staff, people who should know better. And that includes teachers, by the way. Take this ad that's been flashing across my computer screen for the last several days: Dell's New Adamo PC - www.AdamoByDell.com - In a Class of It's Own. Fast, Thin & Light w/Intel Technology. If they don't do details, do I really want one of their computers? I'll stick with my Mac, thank you.

Years ago I taught a community college class made up of people who had worked all day in a factory before they drove over mountain roads to take my basic grammar class as part of earning their GED. One older woman heaved a great sigh one evening and said, "I ain't NEVER going to get my hits straight!" But she did, though I'm not sure she ever understood what I meant about ain't.

Surely if this uneducated mountain woman can get her "hits" straight, Dell can as well. Possessive pronouns don't have apostrophes. It's is a contraction for it is. It's not that hard.

Too little, too late

My second year of teaching was at a small NC mountain high school as a Title I reading teacher, working with 9th and 10th graders who were not served by the special education program. One day the senior English teacher came to me and said that she was curious about a student who was a discipline problem in her class. M. was almost always absent on test days and if there was classroom reading or board work to be done, he usually ended up being sent to the principal for acting out. I was not legally able to serve seniors (sure hope the statute of limitations is up here!), but I told her I'd take a look.

The next day during my planning period, a burly football player came to my room, furious. "I don't know what that stupid teacher is talking about, I don't have no reading problem," he shouted. "Well, let's just make her happy by taking a look and sending you back," I replied. He was not appeased but he did sit down. I pulled out a graded reading assessment and asked him to read the fifth grade level paragraph. He tried, but he couldn't. I dropped down to third grade, then second, and finally first. He stumbled over the very simple sentences in the first grade paragraph and finally stopped. We sat in silence for a moment and then he began to cry, first just tears streaming down his face and then heartrending sobs. "I've never been able to read," he finally choked out. Anything I could say seemed inadequate, but finally I told him that he must be very smart to have fooled so many people for so long. When I asked him if he wanted help, he nodded.

That began his daily trips to my room as I tried desperately to make up for twelve years of lost time. I had to tell him that I was breaking a rule by serving him and that if he ever saw a strange adult in the room, he needed to just keep walking. If my district supervisor was there, he'd walk in, quickly assess the situation, and tell me he had come to get my car keys and take my car to the shop class to change my oil. I've never had a smoother running car than I did that year.

Eventually the principal noticed how much time M. was spending in my room and called me to the office. I admitted that I was working with the boy and he proceeded to ream me out, pointing out the legal ramifications if I were caught. Then I told him why. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling for a moment, then looked back at me and said, "Well, I guess we'll BOTH just have to go to prison if we get caught." I loved that man!

I had neither the knowledge nor the time to really teach him how to read. I made sure he had survival vocabulary and could spell his girlfriend's name, which, unfortunately, was Debbie, a dyslexic's nightmare. He graduated and went on to get a manual labor job. I've often wondered what happened to him. Early intervention is so important; by the time a kid is in the twelfth grade, it's just too late.

Happy Thanksgiving

I have the best job in the world and today it's one of the many things I give thanks for. It allows me flexibility, a sane schedule, a feeling of accomplishment and a purpose. So today, Thanksgiving, I give thanks for my job, my wonderful students and their parents and schools.

I'm grateful for K., my little guy who "works for Legos". His mischievous smile, cut-throat Go Fish skills, and willingness to try and try and try at something that's very hard for him make him a student I always look forward to.

I'm grateful for A., who never fails to make me laugh. He regularly slaughters me in Blink, and he has one of the most original minds I've ever come across. His divergent thinking and imagination keep me intrigued and determined he WILL become a reader who can do whatever he chooses to do.

I'm grateful for J., and his interest in words and the world, a trait that makes him tumble through the sentences we read. He's incredibly intelligent and polite, and occasionally brings his bear to be tutored as well. This kid will do great things some day.

I'm grateful for E., and the joy he greats me with each session. Because of his autism, we sing much of his lesson and I'm so pleased with the progress he is making. I am convinced that any day now, this guy will read like a pro.

I'm grateful for F. and the pleasure of ending my tutoring day with her great attitude and hard work. I share her with another tutor and F. teaches me what Tracey has taught her. She has great taste in books and has introduced me to some good ones. She has made it to Wilson Book 8 and even likes worksheets!

I'm grateful for H., who told me he'd be my first failure and who is learning to read in spite of himself. He loves creatures like Sasquatch and the Loch Ness monster, and will happily play games based on them. He's a great kid and I enjoy him thoroughly.

I'm grateful for G., my newest student, who finished Wilson Book 1 in two lessons. She has a curious mind and a desire to learn how the language works. She writes incredibly original stories and is an enthusiastic reader and learner. She is so much fun.

I'm grateful for I., a young lady who is unfailingly positive and cheerful. I love hearing, "SO, Linda, what are we going to do fun today?" She is aware of how she learns best and isn't shy about letting me in on the secret. She shows such enthusiasm for everything we do, and she is a killer Blink player.

Thanks to my tutoring partner, Tracey Powell, who is one of the most talented tutors I've ever seen and a joy to work with. Thanks to Carolina Friends School, St. Thomas More, and Jordan Lake School of the Arts for letting me tutor during the school day. Thanks to Beth, Cynthia, Leon, Nancy, Henry and all the other great teachers who work with me as partners in getting these kids to reach their potential. And thanks to the parents who have entrusted me with such joyful, precious gifts. Happy Thanksgiving!

How long will this take?

Parents often ask how long tutoring will need to continue. It's difficult to know that. Three former students serve as examples of why it's hard to tell.

B.'s mother called me when B. was in kindergarten. An obviously bright child, most of her classmates were reading. She wasn't, and this was causing B. a lot of distress. The mother was not overly concerned that she wasn't reading; after all, this WAS kindergarten. But she was concerned about the child's anxiety over it. In my initial assessment, B. knew all her sounds, even x, but she couldn't spell or read a single word. As we began our first lesson, I realized although she knew the sounds, she didn't know why she knew them and what relationship they had to reading. Once I explained that we put letters together to make words, she excitedly began to spell cat and fat and bat. I helped her memorize sight words that couldn't be sounded out and by the second lesson she was writing sentences. About two months later we started on The Boxcar Children and she got hooked on the series. We'd start a book and she'd finish it before I'd return. I worked with her about a year and through her school career, she'd check in about once a year, usually with a grammar question. She's now a financial analyst with a masters degree from UNC.

C., an equally bright first grader, was a whiz in math but had great difficulties with reading and spelling. He had already began to label himself as dumb and was shy and withdrawn. It took six months before he was able to blend the letters in a three letter word. His mother had me tutor him every summer as well as the school year. I bribed him with M & M's to get him to read a simple sentence and we tried every trick I knew. Nothing in the written realm came easily to him.

He was in fifth grade when the Harry Potter craze hit, and all his friends were reading it. C. brought me his copy of the book and asked if we could read that. I knew that his skills were far too low for this book, but I took a deep breath and we started. He'd read a page with agonizingly slowness and a lot of help, and then I'd read two pages. In an hour, we'd get through maybe six pages.

One Monday he came in and said, "You're going to be really mad at me." "Yeah?" I said. "Why?" "I read ahead 116 pages," he answered and proceeded to tell me what I'd missed. "Oh, yeah, I"m furious," I replied. He grinned. Somehow that weekend, all the things we'd worked on for five years came together and made sense. I worked with him for five more years, continuing the reading but concentrating on the writing assignments that became increasingly more complex. He is now an engineering student at Purdue.

D. came to me in the 7th grade, with a diagnosis of autism and dyslexia. The school system had told his mother that he didn't have the cognitive ability to learn to read, but a savvy psychologist had prescribed a phonetic approach. When I started, he had to think every time he spelled his name. We marched through Wilson books 1, 2, 3, and 4, and his mother reported he was looking up things on Wikopedia at home. We began Mary Pope Osborne's three book series The Odyssey, which he loved. After three years, the school system tested him at 12th grade reading level and my work with him was through. His spelling still lags behind his reading and he uses an Alpha-Smart for his classwork. He has an A average in 10th grade English.

So when a parent asks me how long it will take, I can never answer that. Every child is different, and all I can say is that we'll know when we get there.