Sarah came in and found me typing her words into the computer. She had misplaced her hat and suspected it was still in the cubby in my room. Sarah had been part of my literacy group for little over two weeks, and in a group, she is quiet, unless she didn't want to do something. Then, she'd get mad, calling everything stupid and dumb. But right now, she's not quiet or mad...
"Hey, are you typin' what I said in my book? Hey, are those my words, hey, can I see, can I hear me sayin' 'em?"
I catch up to her by saying, "Why, hello, Hailey? What brought you back down here? Isn't it time to go home? Oh, your hat. Yes, yes, I'm typing up your story. Would you like to hear you reading?"
"Well, can I? I don't know how that dumb micaphone works anyhow."
I explain how it's not the microphone that stores her recording from earlier-that it's stored on the computer. Then, I proceed to play the slideshow I was making, complete with her words, pictures, and voice...
"That's me! That's really me!" she says,
with this smile that tells me
she likes it more than other things she has to do in this
'dumb school.' She calls everything about school dumb or stupid,
but maybe not the 'micaphone,' maybe it's not so dumb,
as she just sits there and listens and asks me to play it again and again,
her sweet simple story,
her sweet little voice,
her.