Page 11 of Just Watch Me
Georgia looked up at her, then down at her hands, twisted in her lap, then up at Zane. He said, “Go on and explain. I’m right here with you.”
Georgia said, “That I can’t read.” Looking down again.
Ms. Fairburn—washer name Sky?—said, her voice gentle, “Is it that you can’t quite read yet, and that makes you feel like you’ll never be able to?”
Georgia nodded, still looking down. “And maybe I shouldn’t …” She trailed off.
“You can say,” Zane said.
“Maybe I shouldn’t be in Year One,” Georgia said. “Maybe I’m too thick for school.” She gulped.
“Here’s a secret I know,” Ms. Fairburn said. “But you’ll have to look at me so I can whisper it.”
Georgia looked up.
“Everybody learns to read at different times,” the teacher said, not whispering at all, but leaning forward in a confidential way. “Brains don’t all work exactly the same. You know that already, don’t you? There’s doing puzzles, and remembering facts and making jokes, and reading, and understanding numbers, and being able to ride a bike and pump your legs on the swings … so many things our brains can do. Who would think that that funny wrinkly pink thing inside your head could learn so many things so fast, when five years ago, you couldn’t even hold your own head up, and you didn’t know how to say a single word? You were like a baby bird, and look at you now. Remember the baby birds in the video we watched?”
“Yes,” Georgia said. “They were all bare and wrinkly and floppy, because they are …” She frowned hard, concentrating. “Al-trish-all.”
The teacher clapped her hands once and smiled, and Georgia smiled back. Not much, but she did. “There,” Ms. Fairburn said. “Altricial is exactly right. There’s one way your brain worksverywell. Remember how you got a sticker during that lesson for paying such good attention? You remember facts and words, don’t you?”
Zane said,“Ididn’t know that word, so there you are.”
Georgia said, twisting to look up at him, “Heaps of birds and all of people are born altricial, Daddy. Kangaroos, too. When they’re first born, they’re very tiny and pink. They don’t even haveeyesyet,and they have to grow forever and ever in their mother’s pouch. But some animals are pre- pre-”
“Precocial,” the teacher said.
“Yes,” Georgia said. “They can walk straight away. Like a baby horse or a baby elephant, so they can run away from a lion or a wolf, but not a kitten, because its eyes aren’t even open yet. And baby chicks and ducklings can walk straight away, and they have feathers, so they’re pre— precocial, too. Because they live on the ground or swim in the water instead of being safe high up in a nest, so they have to be able to run. And swim.”
“Hmm,” Zane said. “Seems to me that anybody who remembers all that can’t betoothick.”
“But I still want to read,” Georgia said. “I know all the letters, so why can’t I read?”
“You know the sounds the letters make, too, don’t you?” the teacher asked.
“Yes,” Georgia said. “When they’re big. But when they’re little, like in a book, they just look squiggly, and I can’ttell.”
“Hmm.” Ms. Fairburn sat back. “Why don’t you go sit in your own seat for a minute? I’m going to try something. An experiment.”
Georgia brightened. “Like seeing which things sink and float?”
“A bit like that. Go sit there, will you?”
Georgia did. Zane assumed the teacher wanted to say something to him—probably that he should’ve encouraged Georgia more, or worked with her more at home—but she didn’t even look at him. She got up and walked to the blackboard, where she held up three fingers. “How many fingers do you see, Georgia?”
“I don’t see any fingers,” Georgia said. “Just your arm.”
“Good,” Ms. Fairburn said. “Come back here again now.” As Georgia obeyed, she went to a cupboard and took out a wooden alphabet puzzle, then grabbed a book from a shelf and came back to the desk, where she put the puzzle in front of Georgia and said, “Show me the A.”
Georgia looked offended and pointed. “And the R?” Another pointed finger. “And the Zed?” When Georgia found it, the teacher opened the book—it was one of those simple ones, with a couple of large-print sentences on each page—held it up from the other side of the desk, and said, “Show me all the Ns here.”
Georgia said, “I can’t tell.” Looking anxious again.
The teacher handed the book to her. “Now can you tell?”
Georgia held the book close, squinted, and said slowly, “Here’s one, and here. And this one is a capital N, I think, because it’s pointy in heaps of places. But it could be an M instead.”
“Excellent.” Ms. Fairburn took the book back, closed it, and perched on the edge of her desk, her curls bouncing and her curves … curving. “You know what I think?”
