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“Mommy, did you sign my spelling test?” “Mommy, do you remember how you told me last week that you would be able to have my blue shirt washed for school today? I really need it for the play.”
In all my years of teaching kriyah and English reading, I have encountered more boys than girls who struggle with the skill. We are even subconsciously programmed to think of reading as a female endeavor. Picture a reader in a comfy chair, thinking, “Wow, what a great book! I can’t wait to share this with my friends.” Was the reader you imagined male or female? Chances are, you envisioned a female reader. The idea that the majority of readers are female is consistent with reading scores around the nation.
It was Yehudah’s third birthday party. Instead of calmly interacting with his guests, he either ignored them or bossed them around with his limited vocabulary of ten words. He ran around nonstop and elbowed every person in his path. Then, his mother, Shoshana, decided he needed some time to himself so she asked him to play quietly in the den for a few minutes.
Last week I felt the whisper of a "close call" on my skin. Four Jews - two men and two women, one of whom was nine months pregnant - were shot to death in a terrorist attack on Highway 60, just as darkness fell upon the junction near the village of Bani Nayim.
Dr. and Mrs. Schwartz came into the office looking very tired, stressed, despondent and unsure of themselves. They came without Aaron because he had refused to come to the appointment. He claimed that at 15 he could decide for himself if, and when, he would come to appointments about his life. They began by describing an extraordinarily angry young man.
Most people don't think much about their socks, but for eight-year-old Suri W., they are all-important today. The seams at her toes are terribly irritating. Suri spent an inordinate amount of time this morning getting them into a perfect position. But now, three hours later, they apparently shifted. The teacher's voice has receded into the background; a friend's request for a pencil has gone unheeded. The itch has taken over.
Imagine a child on a bicycle speeding downhill. The world is whizzing by. The road takes a sudden curve. The wind whips his face and his eyes blur with tears. Suddenly, he spots a ditch up ahead. He tries to brake − but the brakes don't work! As the bike's momentum increases, it is all he can do to keep from flying off. Obstacles in his path cry out for his attention. Everything seems out of control. What chance does he have to avert the tractor-trailer heading right toward him?