Nick had said that days ago and Beth had one. It had been slow coming together between progress reports for her other students and running it by her principal, but she’d done it. She’d even made up a progress booklet for Nick. She riffled through the papers on her desk—Corey’s papers from his previous school. Corey’s old school reports were as confusing as they were disheartening. The transcripts showed a downward spiral that started before Corey’s mom had died and then plummeted steeply afterward. “Poor kid.” Beth felt that undeniable pull for the boy. Corey had been jostled between special reading groups, and he’d been labeled with emotional problems that were never clearly explained. Had no one seen through to the obvious? Corey didn’t have a handle on phonics. Somewhere along the line, he’d missed the mark and by the time his mother had died, his emotional stresses had kicked in and his dwindling grasp on vowel sounds and rules had slipped.
