 | A simple story , I learned , could bring untold joy to a disadvantaged child
At first Glance, Ronny looked like every other kid in the first-year
class-room where i volunteered as the reading Mum. Windblown hair,
scuffed shoes, a little bit of dirt behind his ears , some kind of
sandwich smear round his mouth. On closer inspection , though, the
layer of dirt on Ronny's face, the crusty nose and the packed grime
under his fingernails told me Ronny didn't get dirty at school. He
arrived that way.
His clothes were ragged and mismatched his sneakers had string for
laces, and his backpack was no more than a plastic shopping bag.
Ronny stood apart from his classmates in other ways too. He had a
speech impediment and wasn't reading or writing well . He had already
been held back a year, making him eight years old in first year. His
home life was a shambles with transient parents who uprooted him at
their whim. he had yet to live a full year in any one place.
But I quickly learned that beneath his grungy exterior, Ronny had a
spark, a resilience that i'd never seen in a child who faced such
tremendous odds.
I worked with the students in Ronny's class one-on-one to improve
their reading skills. Each day Ronny's head twisted round as i came
into the classroom, and his eyes followed me as i set up in a corner,
imploring , " Pick me! Pick me!" of course, I couldn't pick him every
day: other kids needed my help too.
On the days when it was Ronny's turn. I'd give him a slight nod and
he'd fly out of his chair and be across the room in a blink. He sat
awfully close too close for me in the beginning, I must admit and
opened the book we were tackling as if he were unearthing a treasure
the world had never seen.
I watched his dirt-caked fingers move slowly under each letter as he
struggled to sound out " Bud the Sub." It sounded more like " Bow Daw
Saw " because of his speech impediment and his difficulty with the
alphabet.
Each word offered a challenge and a triumph wrapped as one: Ronny
painstakingly sounded out each letter then tired to put them together
to form a word . Regardless if "ball" ended up as "bah-lah" or "bow" a
grin would spread across his face twinkle with pride .
Many nights , after I'd trucked my own children into bed I'd sit and
think about Ronny
.where was he? was he safe? was he reading a book by torchlight under
the blankets? did he even have blankets?
The year passed quickly Ronny made progress but hardly enough to bring
him up to a first-year level He was the only one who didn't know that,
though as far as he know he read just fine.
A few weeks before the school year ended I held an awards ceremony i
had treats , gifts and certificates of achievement for everyone : best
sounder outer , most expressive , best reader, fastest page turner.
It look me a while to figure out where Ronny fit; i needed something
positive , but there wasn't really much. I finally decided on " Most
Improved Reader " quite a stretch but i thought it would do him a
world of good to hear.
I presented Ronny with his certificate and a low-priced hardcover
child book . Tears rolled down his cheeks as he clutched the book to
his chest and floated back to his seat.
I choked back the lump that rose in my throat. I stayed with the class
for most of the day: Ronny never let go of his book, not once.
A few days later i returned to his school to visit. I noticed Ronny on
a bench near the playground the book open his lap. I could see his
lips move as he read to himself.
His teacher appeared beside me " He hasn't put that book down since
you gave it to him. Did you know it's the first he's ever actually
owned?"
I approached Ronny and watched over his shoulder as his finger moved
slowly across the page. I placed my hand on his shoulder and asked "
will you read me your book , Ronny?" He glanced up squinted into the
sun and scooted over on the bench to make room for me.
And then for the next few minutes he read to me with more expression
clarity and ease than I'd ever thought possible from him The pages
were already dog-eared as if the book had been read thousands of
times.
When he finished reading Ronny closed his book stroked the cover with
his grubby hand and said with great satisfaction " good book "
A quiet pride settled over us we sat on that playground bench. Ronny's
hand now in mine
What a powerful contribution the author of that little Golden book had
made in the life of a disadvantaged child.
At that moment i knew i would get serious about doing what that author
had done- writing a story that changes a child's life.
I Strive to be that author.
New York Times
RD November 2003
စာအုပ္မွ အေကာင္းဆံုး ေဆာင္းပါျဖစ္လို႕ ဖတ္ေစခ်င္ပါသည္
ဧကရီ |
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