Summer Learning

Seeing as how "the Wunderkind" (as my aunt calls him) was at the top of his kindergarten class, I've decided to undertake a massive effort in keeping him ahead of his game for the upcoming year. Mom sent me some kindergarten textbooks and I am armed with a library card. What I wasn't prepared for was the unending dramatics of trying to get a kid to read and learn during the summer.

Keith has been tasked with reading one book per day. One. And not even anything difficult. I'm asking him to read through the series that the school sent home with him, a collection of simple paper books. Easy.

No.

The Eye Rubbing. Keith seems to rather rub his eyes out than read these books. He reads out loud in a monotone, as though he's milling flour rather than reading. Both hands are at the eyes, rubbing and digging away, and I'm not even sure how he's seeing the words. His hands get moist from the tears he generates, as though he's precipitating CRYING at the fact I'm asking him to read these books.

Math books?

"Please practice writing your numbers."

"AWWWWWWUGHHHH."

And then in a script resembling late Picasso I get a figure 8. The lined paper has no meaning for Keith. He scrawls through it fast, trying to get away so there's enough time to play more "Simpsons Hit and Run."

So, he's smart enough to remember the cheat codes for this game, something I told him how to do once, but yet not smart enough to write out sevens and eights? I don't think so, kiddo.

And even though "reading is boring," he always begs me for another chapter of the book we're reading in the evenings before bedtime.