research. Helen, Laura, Ron, Kathy, Philip,Jeremy, Karen, James, Kim, Susan, ElliotâI played copycat day after day, always shadowing a different kid. Each day was new and interesting. I felt like I was part of the class, and I liked that feeling.
But I also learned that I liked being so smart. Because by kindergarten I had figured out an important fact about me: I was a genius. The things that most kids found difficult were easy for me. I had seen the other children working hard to learn their letter shapes, working hard to understand the sounds each letter made, working hard just to make their fingers hold a pencil or a pair of scissors. I knew that none of them were thinking the way I was, or reading the kinds of things I could read. Megan was the only other kid in my class who could read at all, and just some simple picture books.
Day by day I got a clearer idea of how far ahead I was. That didnât make me think I was better than the other kids, though. The more I got to know them, the more I admired them. I was amazed by all their hard work. I realized that I didnât have to work like they did andthat I never had. School was different for me. Everything was different for me.
There were fifteen kids in my kindergarten, and each one got a turn being copied. So it was about two weeks before I spent another day copying Stephen. And it was wonderful because right away I could tell he had made some progress. Stephen must have been working on his letter shapes because now he could draw A through O perfectly. Except he made his capital G backward every time. I wished I could help Stephen with that, but I knew I didnât dare. Not if I wanted to keep my secret. So I chose D as my backward letter, and I thought, In a couple weeks, when itâs time to copy Stephen again, maybe heâll have that G turned around.
But two weeks seemed too long to wait.
Thatâs why I followed Stephen the very next day, and then the next three days after that. And then all the next week, too. I watched everything Stephen did for nine days in a row, and I heard everything he said. It was an in-depth study.
Stephen wasnât one of the smartest kids inthe class. I could see that. But Stephen was such a good worker. If he couldnât do something, he was patient and he didnât give up. If something was too hard, Stephen didnât get mad at himself. He simply moved on and then went back to it. And sooner or later he figured it out. He liked to sit alone sometimes and look out the window or draw shapes with a pencil or a crayon. He didnât look at the pictures in the picture books; he studied them. Also, when Stephen played a game, he always played fair. And the most important thing to me was that during all the time I watched him, Stephen never said or did one mean or angry thing. Not once. To anyoneâeven if someone was mean to him first.
Then one Monday morning Stephen was absent. Same thing on Tuesday and Wednesday. I almost called his house Wednesday night to make sure he wasnât dying or something. Because the thought of school without Stephen was suddenly the worst thing I could imagine. When he got off his bus on Thursday morning, I wanted to run over and give him a big hug. Of course, I didnât.
But thatâs when I decided that Stephen was going to be my best friend. He was just so nice. Because I thought, Who could be a better friend than Stephen? And I also thought, If Stephen was my friend, then I could help him. Because thatâs what friends do.
The best thing that happened during my first year at Philbrook Elementary School was getting to be friends with Stephen Curtis. And the best thing that happened during third grade was when Stephenâs family moved to a house down the street from me. And the best thing thatâs happened all five years Iâve known Stephen is that weâve kept getting put into the same classrooms with the same teachers.
So I stayed best friends
But I also learned that I liked being so smart. Because by kindergarten I had figured out an important fact about me: I was a genius. The things that most kids found difficult were easy for me. I had seen the other children working hard to learn their letter shapes, working hard to understand the sounds each letter made, working hard just to make their fingers hold a pencil or a pair of scissors. I knew that none of them were thinking the way I was, or reading the kinds of things I could read. Megan was the only other kid in my class who could read at all, and just some simple picture books.
Day by day I got a clearer idea of how far ahead I was. That didnât make me think I was better than the other kids, though. The more I got to know them, the more I admired them. I was amazed by all their hard work. I realized that I didnât have to work like they did andthat I never had. School was different for me. Everything was different for me.
There were fifteen kids in my kindergarten, and each one got a turn being copied. So it was about two weeks before I spent another day copying Stephen. And it was wonderful because right away I could tell he had made some progress. Stephen must have been working on his letter shapes because now he could draw A through O perfectly. Except he made his capital G backward every time. I wished I could help Stephen with that, but I knew I didnât dare. Not if I wanted to keep my secret. So I chose D as my backward letter, and I thought, In a couple weeks, when itâs time to copy Stephen again, maybe heâll have that G turned around.
But two weeks seemed too long to wait.
Thatâs why I followed Stephen the very next day, and then the next three days after that. And then all the next week, too. I watched everything Stephen did for nine days in a row, and I heard everything he said. It was an in-depth study.
Stephen wasnât one of the smartest kids inthe class. I could see that. But Stephen was such a good worker. If he couldnât do something, he was patient and he didnât give up. If something was too hard, Stephen didnât get mad at himself. He simply moved on and then went back to it. And sooner or later he figured it out. He liked to sit alone sometimes and look out the window or draw shapes with a pencil or a crayon. He didnât look at the pictures in the picture books; he studied them. Also, when Stephen played a game, he always played fair. And the most important thing to me was that during all the time I watched him, Stephen never said or did one mean or angry thing. Not once. To anyoneâeven if someone was mean to him first.
Then one Monday morning Stephen was absent. Same thing on Tuesday and Wednesday. I almost called his house Wednesday night to make sure he wasnât dying or something. Because the thought of school without Stephen was suddenly the worst thing I could imagine. When he got off his bus on Thursday morning, I wanted to run over and give him a big hug. Of course, I didnât.
But thatâs when I decided that Stephen was going to be my best friend. He was just so nice. Because I thought, Who could be a better friend than Stephen? And I also thought, If Stephen was my friend, then I could help him. Because thatâs what friends do.
The best thing that happened during my first year at Philbrook Elementary School was getting to be friends with Stephen Curtis. And the best thing that happened during third grade was when Stephenâs family moved to a house down the street from me. And the best thing thatâs happened all five years Iâve known Stephen is that weâve kept getting put into the same classrooms with the same teachers.
So I stayed best friends
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