Dreamer from Newport

As a parent, when someone “gets” your child, it just makes everything so easy.   A shorthand can be employed, knowing glances and smiles shared.

 When the person who gets your child happens to be one of your child’s teachers, well, you just know you’re in the right place.

This afternoon when I picked up Edgar from school, his teacher, Miss Dawn, handed me a book that she felt belonged with–and now possibly to–Edgar–Dreamer from the Village, the story of Russian painter Marc Chagall. 

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Dawn has worked with Edgar now for a month, witnessing daily the way he interacts with the world and with materials–artistic and otherwise.  She remarked that today as Edgar studied the water in his cup he seemed to be seeing something more than what other people see.  When I asked him later what he saw, he said, “The water droplets were dancing and talking to me.” 

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Edgar does see more than what others see–and so, too, does Dawn.  And I must express once again my gratitude that the forces of the universe have brought them together. 

 

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