I have been in more classrooms than any legislator will ever walk into in their lives, and I see wonderful, caring, dedicated teaching out there.
My appearances are almost theatrical performances. I bring items for the children to see, such as photographs and actual piece of meteorite, a family quilt, sometimes spectacles, sometimes clothing, so that they can understand what I write about is family stories based in fact.
I didn't learn to read until I was almost 14 years old. Reading out loud for me was a nightmare because I would mispronounce words or reconstruct things that weren't even there. That's when one of my teachers discovered I had a learning disability called dyslexia. Once I got help, I read very well!
Show me an Irishman who can't tell a story - I don't think they exist.
I don't care what color the parents are. I don't care if it's a giraffe and a fish living together. If they're raising children who believe they're honored and loved, that's all that's important.
Maybe one of you can enlighten me, but I just don't understand why it is so hard to be kind to one another?
