Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 4 · column 4 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
my mother for the teacher conferences but during the fifth grade he did. They left together and I dreaded their return. What would she tell them? What havoc would she wreck upon me? When they came home, my father came into the room where I was waiting...nervously, of course. “Something’s wrong with that woman,” he told me. “She looks sick or crazy or something.” “I think that maybe she is a witch.”
“Don’t worry about her,” he said and then went into the living room to read the paper.
For the rest of that year, I wasn’t afraid of Mother Marguerite anymore. My behavior scores went to all “l’s” During those few minutes, my father had saved me and 1 was eternally grateful. I had learned a lesson in unconditional acceptance and love.
My father wasn’t into* hyphenated Americanism. He had come to this country with all intent to embrace its dreams — work for the government, be in the Navy, drive a Cadillac and when retired, visit Hawaii as often as possible. He accomplished all.
I had forged through the years a cherished relationship with him. Majoring in communications made talking and writing my avocation. Being an engineer, he never understood why I had no aptitude for math of any kind nor any comprehension of anything mechanical. My
91.9%