He’s a cute little third grader. His dark hair is thick and curly. His big, brown eyes see everything. And when he smiles, it begins as a slow grin and spreads contagiously across his countenance.
He goes to school, plays ball, is a Cub Scout. He likes having spend-the-night company, riding a go cart, bowling, reading and fishing. He’s partial to granddad and a cousin. And he has a younger sister whom he considers playmate, shadow and pest.
All in all, he’s a pretty typical kid who likes to get up early, go to bed late and stay busy in-between.
At school, he’s experienced more successes than setbacks. For the most part, learning has come easily and pleasantly. His marks have been consistently high. Then came the multiplication tables.
Oh, he learned them easily enough - one times one, one times two, one times three…he could rattle them off, set by set. It’s the way most children memorize this valuable information. And he continued to receive perfect marks every paper.
The family went out of town with dad on business one week and the youngster missed several days of school. To pass the time in the car, he read a lot, repeated the multiplication tables and pestered his younger sister. She pestered him back. Mama casually mentioned that he should begin practicing single math facts, not just cites the sets like a poem.
“I know my multiplication facts!” He responded confidently, all the while teasing his sister with a funny face.
He returned to school eager to tell of his adventures while he had been away. After all, he had toured the state capitol building when in Atlanta. However before show-and-tell time, he took a multiplication test and this time, the tricky teacher mixed up the questions. She asked such things as what is five time seven; seven times eight, four times four, two times three, six times five. To boot, she set a time limit for completing the answers. His face felt flushed as he rushed to answer, but when she called for the papers, he had not finished. It was the first time in his short school career that he had turned in a paper minus some answers. He had a bad feeling.
Nor was he happy when the teacher returned his paper with his first failing mark. He stared at the red score on his sheet, wondering what his friends around him would say about what they saw.
“Will your Mama be mad,” asked one concerned neighbor.
“No,” he replied hesitantly, “Maybe a bit. She’ll just help me learn better.”
And she did.
For in his expression of confidence in her, she sensed both the joy and responsibility in being a parent.
1981
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