The sweet smell of success

When I was in first grade, my beloved teacher would hand out stickers to students who had done well on their worksheets. I was delighted with them because they emitted a fruity smell when scratched. And across the bottom of the stickers were invariably the words, "The sweet smell of success."

These pictures are from the last day before fall break. By that point, I was in desperate need of respite to prevent my own "fall and break" of nerves! But I was enormously charmed by this scene, from first and second graders in our end-of-the-day English tutoring class. One volunteer's mother had sent along BOB books, which I photocopied a zillion times, and with which the kids made booklets. Take nothing for granted here! The scissors and crayons they used are only very recent additions to our school.

Below is my sweet and zany miracle child, Kanmani Devan (all his first name; I don't think anyone here bears a last name, although this is very confusing). His kleptomaniac skills are enough to put the Pink Panther to shame. He's able to take candy/pencil/gum from the tutor's bag while being tutored, and without the tutor even noticing. I can attest to this! Yet my favorite scenario was when his disgusted teacher called me into the classroom and told me to "look at Kanmani!" He was sitting at his desk with a dead fish in his hand. (??)

For that matter, I'm just wondering how the Tamil workbook I carefully tracked down in Chennai ended up on his desk (see the picture!).

Kanmani has dealt with many challenges, not least of which was his father's suicide. But it's been beautiful to witness a transformation in him over just the last few months. His antics are now more amusing than alarming. Whenever possible, I pull him out of class for out least an hour per day for individual tutoring. Very few kids get this now that the summer sessions are over. But this sort of personal attention was just what the doctor ordered.

I cried when Maimonisha read her booklet to me at lightning speed. She couldn't read a single letter when I met her in June. And then I agonized and worried endlessly about whether having her repeat first grade was the right choice. It was!