where oh where has my pretty boy gone
My pretty boy has disappeared. In his place is a boy running about on the soccer field or playing video games with other boys. I should be relieved, shouldn't I? But I am not. Fifth grade. The year started out OK. The school offered a subsidized after school soccer program. Nearly all of the boys in the grade signed up. "I don't really like soccer," said D. "I'd rather join the art program instead." (In the end, he was accepted into an advanced art class during school hours instead.) He also expressed interest in dancing, but it was too expensive. As time went by I noticed that D. was spending more and more time by himself, reading. The boys were cliquing around soccer and computer games, but the girls weren't including him in their activities either. I tried to speak to his teacher about it, but she didn't get it. "A child who loves to read? Wonderful!" "I'm fine, Mom," said D. "I like to read." Then, a li