I just don't want to write all of a sudden. I'm too scattered and too tired. I started tutoring three new people this week and understanding their minds is taking over my own. I've been reading books which is also taking up some space. I'm not even sure how I'll get my final assignment done for school because I just can't get myself to sit down and do anything but think about the things that will get these new students to form the connections they need to move to the next level.
I could tell you about her doughy eyes and pigeon toes stacked on thick legs and a thicker torso. Or about his eyes that marble greens with something not from this earth. Or about a boy who confesses his garlic breath. I could tell you that I'm curious about each of their IQs but sometimes it's better not knowing. I can usually guess within a few points or so anyway with a bit of time. Green eyes has the highest but it's probably just around a hundred, maybe a little below. Hers might only be in the eighties. I always find that hard. Like, if I could move the couch cushions in her mind around, maybe I could muster up a few more points.
It's usually best to be in the middle of the pack. You're less likely to be picked off by predators there. Too high or too low and you attract attention. Things are designed for the middle groups. Heights of door handles and sizes of seating. If you're too short, wearing those crazy junglegym contraptions on your feet to make you taller becomes normal. Which is fine in your twenties, thirties, even forties. But who in their seventies wants five inch heels? By then you've shrunk even shorter. So imagine if your eyes have weathered that storm find themselves door-handle height?
See? I'm rambling. I've totally lost the point of this. The point of how this girl has these slightly flat face that makes a person wonder. Planted right in the middle of it all is a smile that erupts.
In first grade or so, I finally figured out how to ride a bike. I don't remember my parents ever taking me outside to teach me. I just remember being at my cousins and using her too-small bike to get the comfort and practice to get it down on my own. I'd been lying for months if not years about not liking to ride a bike so that no one would find out that I really didn't know how. Then, a few short years after that lie abated, I found myself actually not riding a bike anymore after fracturing my skull falling off of mine, then moving to the "city" (suburbs,) where my parents would no longer allow me to ride one. This girl has no shame for her training wheels. Maybe that's the norm now. What do I know? At least kids wear helmets now.
I also didn't know how to read a whole lot of words before first grade. I could read some things but reading wasn't really pushed until you went to real school. Then I was in the bluebird group or whatever the fasttrackers were. Now it's noticeable when a kid doesn't get it with the hammering of reading skills they've received in all-day kindergarten. It's concerning when, going into first grade, a kid can't read. That seems a bit over the top. That said, if you can't rhyme in first grade, that is concerning. Can't hop, also strange. Probably you are not in the middle of the pack. Probably people will notice. Hopefully the helpful sort gets to you before the predators try to pick you off. Hopefully.
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