The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond XXX

Summer Santry
Jane Kelly, Teacher
Washington Irving Middle School
I was badly missing my best friend Poppy who moved away over the summer.
How was I going to make it through this year without her? She was always there
for me whenever I struggled in school. She would stick up for me against bullies.
It was the first day of fourth grade! My mom woke me by yelling up in a cheerful
voice, “Wake up, Summer, breakfast is ready.” I ran downstairs because I was
going to be late! When I finished breakfast, I got dressed. I was so nervous, I
could feel the butterflies flying around in my stomach. The bus ride to school
was too quick. The bus stopped and I looked at the school and I thought,
“Please make this year better than usual.”
I was so nervous I was shaking! I hoped my new teachers wouldn’t have me read
aloud. I was still struggling with reading at my grade level, because I have dyslexia.
I didn’t know how long I could fake it until everyone discovered my secret.
My teacher pulled out some popsicle sticks and had us pick a color. I picked dark
blue. He then told us to put our name on it, so I wrote my name, “Summer,”
then put it back in the container. He shuffled them up and then he called my
name first! “Oh, no!” My face turned bright red! I felt like I was going to throw
up.
Then he asked, “Summer, can you read the schedule?” I read the schedule to
myself. It didn’t seem too difficult. Then I came across the word “technology.”
“Come on, Summer,” he called. I got really nervous, but I told myself that I
could do it. I tried my best, but I sounded it out wrong.
“Sound it out, Summer,” I heard him say. So I tried, but I just didn’t know! I just
wished Poppy was here to whisper it in my ear. She knew my secret and always
would say, “Don’t worry, Summer, no one’s perfect.” Her advice always made me
feel better.
I finally gave up and told him that I didn’t know, and he replied that I should
know how to read that word by now. I wanted to cry, but I held it back. Instead,
I asked to use the bathroom. I was so mad at myself for not knowing how to read
“technology.” Why am I so dumb? Why am I crying on my first day of school?
Why does my teacher hate me? I cannot explain how terrible I felt. I sat in the
bathroom staring at the walls, missing my friend Poppy.
When I got back to class, the teacher told me to go sit down in an aggravated
voice. I felt nervous all over again. Why did he hate me so much? If I could only
be good at reading, then he’d like me. The boy behind me whispered,
The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond
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