April apprehensively approaches the small semi circle and carefully sits beside me. She lowers her head and shuffles her feet which are snug and comfortable in royal blue Reeboks. “I didn’t finish and it’s not one page, and I think I need some help,” the words come tumbling from her adolescent mouth.
Duane, clad in his signature black and turquoise Tupac shirt walks over to April and whispers, “Calm down girl, we got your back.”
April slowly begins to read but stops suddenly in the middle of a sentence. “I think I need a period or comma here. It sounds like a run on.” Kevin, who sits on the other side of me leans forward and requests that April repeat her sentence.
As she is re reading, YaMeer shouts out “Yo! Ms. Zini, how do you spell automatic?” Before I can respond Takeisha leaps out of her desk and scurries over to YaMeer, shaking her finger in his face, “Why you gotta be rude, YaMeer? You know it’s not your turn!?”
I smile proudly. The writing process in motion.
