Star Crossed Lovers

Today one of the worst spellers in the class sent a jaggedly cut-out notebook paper heart artfully decorated with garish stripes of bold Crayola marker and a semi-legible message of love and admiration enclosed inside. Complete with a shaky third-grade pseudo-cursive signature.

The object of her affection happens to be one of the worst readers in the class. And for all his might, he could not read it. Let's just say "Hooked on Phonics" was not working for him at the moment. He brought it to me, and before I had a chance to read it to him, another (and, I'm sure *well-meaning*) "friend" snatched it and began to read it out loud.

Now not only was the sendER red-faced, teary-eyed, blowing snot bubbles and hiding her head on her desk, but the sendEE was equally mortified and turned bright red, and felt as if he needed to apologize to the SpellingChampion for being unable to read her profession of adoration, which only set her off again, as more *well-meaning* "friends" gathered 'round to stick their noses into the midst of the daytime drama.

Geez. Now I guess I've gotta teach these little darlings to read and write or their romantic lives will be screwed up forever and I'll be watching their a$$es on Jerry Springer in 15 or 20 years.

Or should I selfishly let their paths continue, like ships that pass in the night, missing this opportunity for romance so that they don't grow up, get married and cross-breed their writing/reading talents into the generation of students that finally makes me throw in the towel and retire?