...we now continue our tale of adventure on the high seas of an elementary art room (see maiden voyage of the HMS).
Year two
B. grabbed the helm as usual: chitter-chattered at MS all year like he's stunted or deaf, kind of like people do to me on the job. He just smiled and looked down at what he was creating.
"Tell her Hi. Say Hi. Tell her Hi," she said a thousand times if she said it once; like telling the best in show to shake. He ignored her, smiled, kept his eyes averted. While he listened I would say, "B., the kid just won't talk to me."
This made him smile ear to ear; the sweetest mutiny on earth.
Occasionally he appeased her or us: "Hi." Two letters said so gently, I always mistook them for the breeze.
Hearing them would make her say, "GOOOOOD!!!, MS, GOOOOOOD!!!"
The pattern was to repeat every week for a year.
He did not cry; this was progress.
Next: how year three came to be.
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