The Book Report
I am not the only member of our family who was feeling more than slightly "out of sorts" this past weekend. Unfortunately, Child Number Two spent the time between Thursday evening until Sunday morning trying to figure out whether or not she would develop fully-blown strep throat, or just settle for a relatively severe virus instead.
Thankfully, she finally decided AGAINST the strep, after several long, mildly-feverish and nightmare-riddled nights. However, the struggle to fend off the infection seems to have taken a bit of the vinegar out of her.
She felt well enough to go back to school this morning, much to her relief and delight (and mine, too, let me tell you).
Because Child Number Two LOVES grade one.
LOVES. IT.
When she is not physically AT school, she is always THINKING about school. Or enlisting her little sister to PLAY school with her.
She is absolutely crazy about her teacher, she begged for homework on the very first day (and has continued to do so every day since then), and slaves over that homework like an academic obsessive-compulsive... I have actually seen the child erase ENTIRE PAGES OF PRINTING, so that she can do them all. over. again.
For fun.
She's a wee pistol of a student, and I don't envy her teacher having to try and keep up with her.
But today was different.
When I picked up the girlies from school at three-thirty, Child Number Two launched into a long and involved description of the new "book report" assignment that her teacher had given her. She now brings home four books in a little bag every Monday. She is to read one book per day, write a short description, and draw a picture of her favourite part of the story, every week-night. I am to check her report each night, and the notebook is to be handed in to the teacher for marking on Fridays.
Normally, this kind of "grown-up" assignment would be cause for great excitement from Child Number Two. But not tonight, it seems.
The sparkle wasn't in her... the enthusiasm seemed dulled... We returned home, she sat down at the table and ate her snack, then dutifully pulled the books out of her backpack and threw herself into her work.
As I tidied the kitchen, she silently studied her book. Then, I heard the scratch of her pencil and the scuffing of her eraser... She refused my offer to help with spelling, so I started the preparations for dinner.
When she was done, she solemnly handed me her notebook, then slunk off and curled up with a fuzzy blanket on the couch in the family room.
Tonight, it turns out, my poor girlie was even MORE tired and worn out than I had suspected, because on the page, she had written the title of the book, the author's name, the illustrator's name, and this unusually brief description:
I'll just bet it was, too.
Poor wee thing.
Thankfully, she finally decided AGAINST the strep, after several long, mildly-feverish and nightmare-riddled nights. However, the struggle to fend off the infection seems to have taken a bit of the vinegar out of her.
She felt well enough to go back to school this morning, much to her relief and delight (and mine, too, let me tell you).
Because Child Number Two LOVES grade one.
LOVES. IT.
When she is not physically AT school, she is always THINKING about school. Or enlisting her little sister to PLAY school with her.
She is absolutely crazy about her teacher, she begged for homework on the very first day (and has continued to do so every day since then), and slaves over that homework like an academic obsessive-compulsive... I have actually seen the child erase ENTIRE PAGES OF PRINTING, so that she can do them all. over. again.
For fun.
She's a wee pistol of a student, and I don't envy her teacher having to try and keep up with her.
But today was different.
When I picked up the girlies from school at three-thirty, Child Number Two launched into a long and involved description of the new "book report" assignment that her teacher had given her. She now brings home four books in a little bag every Monday. She is to read one book per day, write a short description, and draw a picture of her favourite part of the story, every week-night. I am to check her report each night, and the notebook is to be handed in to the teacher for marking on Fridays.
Normally, this kind of "grown-up" assignment would be cause for great excitement from Child Number Two. But not tonight, it seems.
The sparkle wasn't in her... the enthusiasm seemed dulled... We returned home, she sat down at the table and ate her snack, then dutifully pulled the books out of her backpack and threw herself into her work.
As I tidied the kitchen, she silently studied her book. Then, I heard the scratch of her pencil and the scuffing of her eraser... She refused my offer to help with spelling, so I started the preparations for dinner.
When she was done, she solemnly handed me her notebook, then slunk off and curled up with a fuzzy blanket on the couch in the family room.
Tonight, it turns out, my poor girlie was even MORE tired and worn out than I had suspected, because on the page, she had written the title of the book, the author's name, the illustrator's name, and this unusually brief description:
My favourite part of the book
was the Last part.
I'll just bet it was, too.
Poor wee thing.
5 comments:
Awwww! Poor baby girl! Go make her some chicken soup or something, mom!
(And can I borrow some of that enthusiasm for school work? My son currently spends 2-3 hours doing ONE math worksheet because he dislikes math so much. So, he just sits there and stares into space rather than get it over with. Drives me nuts.)
Poor girl. Hope she feels better really quick.
At least she is honest ;)
I love it!
Poor Number two. Sore throats have been flying around here too - amazing how they travel so far!
Hope she is better soon.
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