Why I’m Not a Teacher
January 24th, 2013
Is there anything — ANYTHING — in this world more difficult than watching someone struggle to master a skill that is so ingrained in you that you don’t even think about it anymore?
No. There is not.
Don’t get me wrong. I am loving coming alongside Miss Mouse on her reading journey. I am. But wow, it can be tough. Sitting patiently (and quietly) while she arduously sounds out words makes me twitch. A lot. It’s all I can do not to cut her off, leaping in to pronounce them correctly.
I don’t, of course. She’s learning and this is part of the process. Last night, she independently read two sentences: “This cat is sick. This cat is sad.” I nearly wept.
The reading actually isn’t the biggest struggle — she’s picking it up quickly. But the book we use also has kids learn to write the letters as they learn their sounds. And that is trickier. Miss Mouse has been struggling with lowercase “a” for several nights. I usually draw a few for her to watch, then have her trace them, then let her go it alone. She carefully and accurately traces my letters…and then butchers hers. She loops in the wrong direction and the “tail” of the “a” inevitably shoots off in the wrong direction.
Every. Single. Time.
But we shall overcome. Assuming I don’t suffer a mild stroke while resisting the urge to yank the pencil out of her hand and start writing myself.