By Michael H. Brownstein
I first met him in my classroom,
a fifth grader already too old,
struggling with his name in cursive.
he knew only beginning consonants,
had memorized his way four blocks square,
never dared go his way downtown, would not catch a bus,
read only single syllable words and loud vowels.
Sometimes “the” was too hard to remember.
I did all the paperwork on him,
Tried to line up special help,Lobbied and lobbied over the months,
But the school year passed too quickly
And forced to pass him on
(“He’s too old,” the principal sighed),
I lost him to a maze.
Eighth grade came, my paperwork caught him:
he began special classes the following year.
Yesterday he came back to mevisiting my after school learning center
still struggling with his name in cursive,
spelling his street wrong, confusing the numbers.
I introduces him to a volunteer tutor,our black belt in chess. “Teach him.
Perhaps with this game he will want more.”
The tutor set up the board, taught him basics,
played him again and again over hours,
and when closing time approached gave him a book
written for masters. He was that good.He stuttered when he read the cover,
turned pages as if they were layers of shirt,
but he stopped and paused here and there, looking.
He took the book home holding it tightas if it were a love come back.
Perhaps on his return he will play chess again,
write his name in flowing cursive,spell his street without missing vowels,
and dare to ride downtown.
_______________
Footnote: When he did return, he led our beginner’s chess team he helped coach to third place in the Cook County 4-H championships.
Copyright © 2022 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
Nice to hear some good news in these dark times. Thanks
ReplyDeleteStill struggling with reading, he has found a good job he likes and one that likes him (working with at risk children). He's on his way up!
ReplyDeleteAnother life you have touched and improved. Bravo, sir, bravo.
ReplyDeleteFortunate the man who, at the right moment meets the right friend
ReplyDelete— T.S. Eliot, "Notes Towards the Definition of Culture," 1948