He entered my class with a hug and a huge smile. He said “I’m so excited for second grade, Mrs. Zimmerman and did you know that worms are not insects?”
Strawberry blonde and blue eyed, he is as impulsive as he is delightful.
He blurts out questions that he needs to know the answers to NOW. He does not like to wait.
Sometimes I try to explain things, at other times I realize that he doesn’t reason the way typical eight year olds do.
He knows so much about the physical world. He loves music.
It makes him dance.
When he regrets his choices, he apologizes and says “I’ll try harder next time, Mrs. Zimmerman.” He means it.
Sometimes he refuses to do his work. He soaks up information like a sponge but subtraction with regrouping scares him. He is uncomfortable acquiring new information through traditional methods.
He struggles with a pencil but he loves to write poetry. The words flow easily from his mind to the page.
His giggle is like the sun, lighting up our classroom. He inspires us to be more tolerant, compassionate to each other.
I listen to my heart and trust my gut. I try to see the world through his beautiful eyes.