Her thick, dazzling dark braid rests on her back, while she bends over her homework sheet, and after a brief thinking spell, sets her pencil back on task. I watch her write a number in the right column, after she tests it out on me first. “14?” “Exactly right,” I spring back. I smile at her success and even share a piece of her victory. It’s so nice, I comment, while she plants her 4 in the ones column, that there’s a right answer … a perfect solution that works. She pencils a small 1 on top of the next column and politely nods at my non-digital murmuring.
Six more on the page and she’ll have mastered a full page of double-digit addition homework problems. Sometimes what traditionally adds up to 18 is tentatively identified as 17 or 19 — her fingers tallying the numbers quietly. I remember that exact same jump from fingers to purely mental computations, but not wanting to add yet another hurdle, I pretend not to see her fingers dance.
She’s finished the page. “Outstanding!” I tell her, adding that I’ve said “Excellent” so many times that’s it’s time for a new word. She smiles back and and then she carefully dips inside her peace symbol-strewn back pack for the day’s reading assignment. She tries to tiptoe over some tough words which we then sound out together, and I ask her a little about what we’ve read, and we see if the illustrations offered any clues. After our time together in the transitional community activities room, I remind her of her success, while she zips up her island pack and takes off to catch up with a waiting friend.
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