A young poet

It was the boys' nativity today in the local church. I don't find it an easy event due to being a single mum and all the nuances that these "family" events highlight but hey ...that's not for this blip. The boys were great. Boy 2 sang his heart out and Boy 1 read his narration perfectly.
Boy 1 has had a difficult time with literacy lessons, as they now call English, since last year when he decided he was rubbish at it. I could write a pretty big book on the evils and absurdities of an education system that produces such pronouncements but I won't bore you with my leftie ideas here.
Anyway, one and a bit years later, the class had to write a poem that spelt out Christmas and Boy 1's poem, which he wrote in this morning's lesson, won. To say he was chuffed was an understatement. He kept asking me if I really thought it was good, how he'd beaten all the girls, even though their poems were fantastic, and could he please print his poem out four times to make into cards for me, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa and his teacher?

Funny how when you treat a child like a person instead of a robot he stops thinking he's crap, isn't it?