论文TheBookforRonny是关于本文可作为相关专业TheBookforRonny论文写作研究的大学硕士与本科毕业论文goforthebook论文开题报告范文和职称论文参考文献资料。
At first glance, Ronny looked like every other kid in the first-grade classroom where I volunteered as the Reading Mom. Wind-blown hair, scuffed shoes, a little bit of dirt behind his ears, some kind of sandwich smear around his mouth.
On closer inspection, though, the layer of dirt on Ronny’s face, the crusty nose, and the packed grime under his fingernails told me he didn’t get dirty at school. He arrived that way.
His clothes were ragged and mismatched, his sneakers had string for laces, and his backpack was no more than a plastic shopping bag.
Along with his outward appearance, Ronny stood apart from his classmates in other ways, too. He had a speech impediment, wasn’t reading or writing at grade-level, and had already been held back a year, making him eight-years-old in the first grade. His home life was a shambles with transient parents who uprooted him at their whim. He had yet to live a full year in any one place.
I quickly learned that beneath his grungy exterior, Ronny possessed a spark, a resilience that I’d never seen in a child who faced such tremendous odds.
I worked with all the students in Ronny’s class on a one-on-one basis to improve their reading skills. Each day, Ronny’s head twisted around as I came into the classroom, and his eyes followed me as I set up in a corner, imploring, “Pick me！ Pick me！” Of course I couldn’t pick him every day. Other kids needed my help, too.
On the days when it was Ronny’s turn, I’d give him a silent nod, and he’d fly out of his chair and bound across the room in a blink. He sat awfully close -- too close for me in the beginning, I must admit -- and opened the book we were tackling as if he were unearthing a treasure the world had never seen.
Each word offered a challenge and a triumph wrapped as one； Ronny painstakingly sounded out each letter, then tried to put them together to form a word. Regardless if “ball” ended up as Bah-lah or “bow,” the biggest grin would spread across his face, and his eyes would twinkle and overflow with pride. It broke my heart each and every time. I just wanted to whisk him out of his life, take him home, clean him up and love him.
A few weeks before the school year ended, I held an awards ceremony. I had treats, gifts and certificates of achievement for everyone： Best Sounder-Outer, Most Expressive, Loudest Reader, Fastest Page-Turner.
It took me a while to figure out where Ronny fit； I needed something positive, but there wasn’t really much. I finally decided on “Most Improved Reader” -- quite a stretch, but I thought it would do him a world of good to hear.
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