“Okay,” I said, not really sure what she was planning.
She pulled the pillow out from under my head and discarded it to the floor, along with its mate. She patted the empty sheet space above her sister’s head. This is our paper. Are you ready? How do you spell your name? I gave her the letters. Can you write them? Good. Write them here on the paper.
I endeavored to write my name on the "paper."
All worksheet images made here.
Your letters are a little messy. Would you like help, Mama? “Sure,” I said. Do you want points? I’ll give you points. Okay. Here are your dots. Now trace them! That’s how you make letters. See? She guided my hand over the bedsheet, tracing her invisible dots and forming invisible language.
Now you try it on the dots without my help. She watched me intently.
Now Mommy. Let’s try again. Follow the dots like this. She gestured which direction I was to follow with my pen. That letter starts with a stick. You always start the stick at the top but you just started it at the bottom! Try again.
Apparently she watched me very intently.
Mama! NO! Like THIS, I said.
I tried explaining why I was having trouble. None of my excuses appeased her, though. I was lying on my left arm, see, so I was writing with my right hand? But I’m left-handed?
My contacts weren’t in yet?
I find my fine motor skills suffer whenever I wear a 22-pound nipple clamp?
My dad has had students throw pens at him before, but judging from her disgust at my efforts I think E is shaping up to be even tougher as a grader.