I have blogged before about my connection to weird, different, offbeat, damaged. This is where I am comfortable. New, shiny, perfect makes me amazingly uncomfortable. There's nothing wrong with new, shiny, perfect. It's just not MY safe place. So this story I'm about to tell fits right into my preferred way of life.
It all started with T and writing. She spells fairly accurately. She can identify what belongs and what does not belong. She knows writing conventions. But, she has struggled in a big way with generation. I mean really struggled. Blank slate struggled. Today I was determined that she would create a sentence when given a topic.
Me: I want you to write one sentence about a friend.
T: (staring at me, wheels trying to turn, mouth open, unable to produce anything)
Me: How about a sentence telling me what your favorite color is.
T:
Me: Write a sentence about your favorite food to eat in the cafeteria.
T:
It was like she didn't know where to go to get her information. So I drew a picture of her and her brain. I told her that in her brain was all of the things she thinks. Her dreams. How she feels. Memories of places she has gone. Television shows she has watched. People that she knows. And so on.
The conversation resumed.
Me: Tell me about one of your friends.
T: I don't really have any friends. Except for S. She's really nice.
All this time and all she needed was directions.
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