My student is making progress.

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When mother of my six year old student initially came, she was  worried about her kid who was reluctant to write with her.

Her son was enjoying doing reading at home. He could answer comprehension questions well but when it came to writing, he simply refused to express his thoughts.

Mother wanted my help and I was eager to try.

On first day, before starting our class, I took him to window and asked him to explain what he was seeing outside, he replied that the grass was green and the sky was blue with white fluffy clouds in it.

It was our warm-up session. After he did reading from manual, I encouraged him to move toward workbook and worksheets.

At first, he got confused because I was asking him to do something which was a least favourite thing for him.

In order to show my love for him, I gave him a quick hug which brought smile on his face. Later, I asked him to give me a high-five so that I could check his energy level.

He liked that activity.

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Before start of the class when I was going through this worksheet, I prepared some questions that could help him in writing better about picture but it didn’t require much effort on my part as being a kid, he loved imagining what was going on in a house and wrote about a person who was sleeping in it.

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This, I’m poem he composed is lovely and close to my heart.

I’m happy that my student is enjoying doing writing with me.

I’m small and my age is six.

I wonder why the sun is shiny?

I hear your secret.

I see a walking monster.

I want a new pencil box.

I’m small and my age is six.

I pretend to be a spider man.

I feel hot.

I touch pencil.

I worry that shopkeeper won’t give me a bat.

I cry when my sister hits me.

I’m small and my age is six.

Imagination

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When I was young, we for some time lived in a home where there was a small neat garden.

I liked doing cycling in sunlit court-yard of that home.

There was enough space in a house for playing but my favorite spot was in the garden.

In the evening, I would take my kitchen toy set with me and after plucking some leaves, I loved to make my own very food under the green shady leaves of tree.

Child as I was, I imagined my cooking pots were real. Those were the days when I considered real world was fake.

With the passage of time my perspective has changed. Today, I know that real world is not fake but my belief has become more strengthen in a fact that with little bit of effort, I can re-create my life from my imagination.

This past Sunday, I was under weather and for some change decided to go outside with family. Once in a car, I observed street ahead, it was all covered with fallen leaves. I thought of changing season and imagined that fallen leaves were my own past days which I had left behind only to move forward. This very thought gave me such strength that I found myself quite energetic during rest of my day.

After all Roald Dahl is never wrong when he writes

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”

Image Courtesy: DevianArt

Magical land

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That land of kind people is surrounded by misty mountains but despite being covered by foggy clouds, the people there are learned and informed.

Once, I got a chance to visit that place. I found that the flowery meadows and the lush green fields covered every inch of that land. The beautiful winding streets were covered with the dense green trees. The leaves of the trees were thick and they formed a canopy which provided passersby with shade against the sweltering heat.

That land is known for its large number of libraries. Walking into one such library, I found the people were absorbed in reading.There was a silence and only sound audible was that of the scribbling of pen on paper.

There prevailed an atmosphere of peacefulness. Outside, the green leaves were trying to filter the warmth of sunshine and the shimmering rays of a distant sun were coming dancing through the windows.

I looked at the librarian. That old woman with her wrinkled skin was in her late sixties. I walked towards her and asked her about the book of descriptive writing. She looked up and smiled and adjusting her glasses, she coughed and said, “You’ll find it there on the left side of that shelf.”

Thanking her I moved towards the shelf when I heard her voice. She was saying, “Don’t forget to write something about us.”

I smiled back.

I had no doubt that the woman was wise enough to recognize me as a writer.

Without the description of their houses, this post would not do justice to those kind people.

The people of that magical land keep their houses clean. They grew a variety of flowers in their gardens and the windows of their bedrooms opened in their gardens. So, in the morning when the sunshine falls on the petals, the sweet fragrance escapes and gently strokes the hair of a sound sleeper.

The softness of their touch is so fascinating that a person wastes no time in leaving his bed.

Dear Reader, the people of that land of mesmerizing beauty took a great care of their neighbors. In the evening, when the sky is blue and the soft breeze is blowing, it’s a ritual that neighbors arrange a get together. So, before sun set, the toasty nutty aroma of chocolate cake spreads in their streets and one could see the fairies of mirth and happiness dancing in their backyards.

I remained there for some time and before returning I asked a wizened man how one could find his way to their land. I saw something sparkled in his eyes. Next moment, he smiled and said, “You only need to have a pure heart to find this land of peace and beauty.”

I returned with the promise of writing about them. It was a heartfelt experience and this was the story of my visit to that far away land which lies hidden among those misty mountains.