Gleek in School

This past week I’ve been checking in with my kids’ teachers. I’m not really concerned, I just want to have a feel for how life in the classroom is going for them. When I reached Gleek’s teacher I could tell that she wasn’t certain of the reason for my call and she really had nothing specific to say about problems in the classroom. This makes me very happy. It means that Gleek is not one of her problem kids. This is such a relief after last year when Gleek had such a hard time.

2 thoughts on “Gleek in School”

  1. Yay for Gleek!
    I’m glad to hear it. Bright kids at that age can have a hard time with the pace of the rest of the world; it’s not until later that they realise that not everyone can keep up with them, and often it’s not til later that it’s possible for them to be taught at the speed they need to be taught at. Exactly the same problem that less-gifted children get, in reverse, if the class moves too fast for them – in neither case is it the child’s fault – we don’t get to choose the kind and speed of brain we get; and unfortunately, most mass education is geared for the average student, so people too far off the norm in either direction suffer.

    When I was little, my mother taught me to read. By the time I went to “proper” school at age 5 I was reading Arthur Ransome’s “Swallows and Amazons” books (and I’d recommend those to any parent of a child who wants to read, a bit dated now but the magic is still there); so when the teacher gave me some early reading book (Janet and John or suchlike) I rightly thought it was boring and declined to read it. The teacher spoke to my mother about my reading. Mother was puzzled, “He reads loads at home. What book is he not reading?” When told, she said “I’m not suprised, he read that 2 years ago”. Thereafter I was allowed to read books from the “big class” library.

  2. I was just friending a few fellow Codexians, and happened upon your post today.

    My mother used to do this. It always puzzled the teachers –“Wendy’s doing fine, she’s no problem at all.” But, and I hadn’t really realised this until I read your post, it made me feel good. A little squirmy at the attention, and the teachers possibly noticing me, but good nonetheless. Loved. Cared for. (Now I’ll have phone her to thank her, as I’m sure I didn’t 40 years ago!)

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