Free My Million-Dollar Donkey by Ginny; East Page B

show up.
    When I pulled up to the college on Wednesday, Kathy was leaning against her rusty truck, smoking. She flashed a happy smile and called out a confident, “I’m here!”
    She didn’t look at all concerned about whether or not I’d show up after our miscommunication before, but when I approached, I noticed the cigarette trembling in her hands. Any notion I had that she was casually abusing my time dissipated instantly.
    We settled into a conference room and discussed the weather, our kids, and the price of gas. Then I began easing into the task at hand.
    I explained that just as she was a beginning reader, I was a beginning teacher. I told her I had spent the weekend studying how I should go about helping her and had some good ideas and pointed out that her going to school for ten years and never learning to read may mean she had a learning disability. We would have to explore that possibility.
    “I ain’t got no disability. I was tested. They just kept passing me,” she said.
    “Well, then, the problem must have been with the teachers and not with you.”
    She lifted one eyebrow skeptically.
    “Hey, teachers fail, too. A person can go through the motions of teaching, but if they aren’t really reaching their audience, the effort is pointless. That’s why you have to talk to me and let me know when you’re confused or frustrated. We’ll take tests, but when we do, we won’t be testing you. We’ll be testing me.”
    She laughed at the possibility. “You don’t need a test. You already know how to read.”
    “Yes, but we have to test whether or not I’m doing my job well. If you answer questions incorrectly, we will discover I didn’t convey the material in a strong enough way. Some people learn better when they see things; others when they hear them. I’ll have to try different ways of explaining the same thing until I figure out just how to anchor the material best in your mind. My just showing up is not enough, and I hate to tell you, but you just showing up won’t be enough to get the job done either.”
    She smiled shyly and sat taller.
    “Do you cook?”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s your best meal?”
    “Hamburger Helper.”
    I’ve made Hamburger Helper once or twice, and as I recall, I figured out how to go about making the meal by reading the back of the box. “How do you follow the recipe?”
    “I look at the picture and just guess. Sometimes what I make comes out watery, but usually it’s pretty good.”
    “So, you know enough math to use a measuring cup and all.” “What’s a measuring cup?”
    “Never mind.”
    Practical application assignments would hopefully be motivating as they impressed upon her that reading enhances day-to-day living. I made a mental note that as soon as she was able, I would bring her a recipe and all the fixings for a meal. She could follow the recipe and bring the leftovers to me the next day as homework.
    I pulled out the flashcards and spread the first ten instant words on the table. She stared at the word “the” for a few moments and then correctly guessed what it was.
    “How did you know?”
    “I just sort of know “the” from seeing it all the time. Lots of sentences start with “the”.
    Perhaps this isn’t going to be as hard as I imagined, I thought, as Kathy revealed a familiarity with the words “a”, “and”, “to”, “it”, “is”, “the”, and “or”.
    I plunked down another flashcard and said, “What is ‘THAT’ word?”
    She shook her head.
    I tapped the cards patiently. “What is ‘THIS’ word?”
    She shook her head again.
    I waited until realization dawned on her.
    “You told me the words as you set them down, didn’t you? Those words are ‘this’ and ‘that’. Gosh, I’m dumb.”
    “Not dumb, Kathy. Never dumb. You just don’t know certain words yet. I bet you know a lot of stuff that has nothing to do with reading.”
    “Like what?’
    “Like how to raise chickens.”
    “Well, anyone can do