Eric

He is seven and I am his teacher. I watch him as he carefully marks each picture in the workbook that begins with an M: Mouse; Match; Mop. There is a picture of a woman kissing a baby and I see that Eric passes it by. He looks up at me and smiles. ``I'm finished,'' he says. ``What about the woman?'' I ask. His chin pushes out. ``What is she holding, Eric?'' He sighs. ``A baby.'' ``What is that kind of woman called?'' He shakes his head in disbelief. ``That picture is called love and anyone who knows anything knows that love hasn't got no M's in it.'' I learn so much from Eric.

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