The kids are taking a play-writing class. They worked on character development the first week, and this week they are to bring a scene, already written, back to class.
Riley’s written two very lengthy ones, and could go on. Seth struggles with one.
He sits at the table, forlorn. He has it in his head, can’t get it on the paper.
Finally, I let him dictate to me and then when we’re finished, I ask him to copy it in his own handwriting. It’s important the boy be able to write if he’s capable of it, and he is.
He starts, then gets teary. It is so much to copy. He’s paralyzed. I am losing patience.
Riley says, “Mom, it’s just that he’s overwhelmed.”
“I know Riley, but he’s not doing anything.” Exasperated, I look at her and say, “Why don’t you help him.”
She goes over to the paper, takes a second sheet and covers up all but the line he is currently writing. Relief washes over him, and he begins to write.
One line at a time.