Herban Sprawl

As previously posted in this space, I have been working with the almost 21 daughter of BGF in my specialty: reading. In the very beginning, she made tons of progress, rapidly. It’s like a diet. You lose a lot of water weight really quickly in the beginning. Then comes the hard part. Fat loss and misery as it melts off ever so agonizingly slowly. Well, she’s in the slow gains territory about now, and has been for the better part of six months now. I’m an old pro. I expected it, and I’m not in the least deterred nor flapped. It’s the old plateau and she’s about to come off it and climb a little higher.

Today, though, was one of those days that teachers savor. It’s almost as good as a shot of Woodford’s Reserve in a Waterford tumbler with a splash of branch. It’s nearly as tasty as a garlicky stuffed artichoke and nearly as close to nirvana as the first bite of home grown tomato in summer.

I had been struggling with what I should next present to her for our reading. We’d been bumping along with an old anthology that had been the mainstay of my junior high years. But it was time for a novel and I was stumped. Then I had a flash. By golly, she was ready for A Wrinkle in Time.

We began the book by me reading her the intro from Anna Quindlen, a writer of note who adored the book. And then we shared the reading of Chapter 1. My girl was attentive, and when she reacted to the book - when she sucked in her breath - I had that moment of pedagogical nirvana. She was hooked by the beauty of the literature. The scariness of the dark and stormy night, the appearance of Mrs. Whatsit, the chuckle over Mrs. Whatsit’s clothing - she was there, in the kitchen with the family.

Oh, yeah. THIS is what’s it’s all about.