My first school experience. Color the apple red. Important. Neat. Concrete. Reading Group Watch friends like a hawk. Make sure to open to the same page. Heart pounding concentration. Listen-watch-listen-watch. Carefully now, See Dick run. Run, run Dick. See Jane run. Run, run Jane. “No Dear, we are here at the bottom of the page.” I stare hard at the words blinking back tears. (I can’t read it; I have lost my place.) My mother finishes the story. She has only seen my father cry twice, once when his mother died and when he was told I could not read. I don’t remember that he taught me B was “buh.”