My Cardboard Balcony

It Broke My Heart by Belinda Roddie It broke my heart to see my student cry, incapable of viewing herself as a smart, creative, talented young girl whose energy was contagious. But boys called her dumb, and the system that ran all things "educational" had limited her to simply regurgitating words force fed to her. Yes, it had rendered her dependent on praise, saturated on a teacher's positive "I" statement (not "I" for the student, but "I" for the damn teacher). I did my best to show her what gifts she had, not tell her what I saw through my eyes. I wished others would do that, too.

"Wanna go bowling tonight?" "No, thanks," Sally grumbled. "Right hand's acting up again. I think it's tendonitis." "Not carpal tunnel syndrome?" "No. I already asked my doctor that. She just thinks I tugged on my wrist a little too much when I was weeding last week." Wally sighed. "I just don't get how you persistently try to take care of that damn apartment garden. It's always going to look lousy." "Thanks for the encouragement."