(gentle upbeat music) - [Children] Gobbledy books.

- Hello, thanks for joining us.

I am Craig O'Neill.

I do the news on television at 10 o'clock on THV 11.

We get to enjoy your book together.

And today we're gonna be doing "Cartwheels".

Watch what happens when you open a book and learn how a character addresses a problem in their lives, and how do they get over it?

Let's find out in the book "Cartwheels" by Tracy Peterson.

My name is Sloane, I am six years old.

I love to make up dances and put on shows.

I play soccer and take gymnastics.

I especially like to do cartwheel.

I do cartwheels everywhere.

Last year I started kindergarten, oh and it was fun.

I taught and then made up lots of stories, I'm really good at that.

I did art.

I'm an amazing artist.

I did math, I'm really good at math.

The numbers go together right in my brain.

In kindergarten I started to learn my letters and some of the sounds that the letters made.

I remembered a few of the words, but I wasn't as good at the reading stuff as I was at talking, and art, and math, and gymnastics, and cartwheels.

As the year went on we started doing more letters and sounds and harder reading.

The other kids were putting sounds together to make words.

The other kids were remembering all of those words we were supposed to remember.

The other kids liked reading.

They would read just for fun.

When it was time for reading my teacher would say, "Sloane pay attention, focus.

"You know this."

But no matter how hard I looked at those letters I couldn't remember which one was which, I never could remember which sounds we're supposed to go with which letters.

And I for sure couldn't remember all those words.

I felt sad that I couldn't keep up with my class, and I wasn't reading the right way.

My brother is just one year and he could read real books like (finger snapping) magic.

It made me think what is wrong with me?

Finally, it was summer.

Oh, what a relief?

No more teachers, or letters, or words, or books.

I was free to sing, and dance, and play.

It felt food not to be so worried about doing things wrong.

Sometimes my friends would want to read under a tree or even play school, but I would always rather do cartwheels instead.

Before I knew it, it was time to get new shoes and you backpacks.

First grade was here.

I was excited about some things.

We had our own desks, and all of my friends were there.

We got to go on the big playground and eat dessert first at lunch if we wanted to.

But we also had to do more work.

We got to play and do art, and math.

But along with the good stuff was harder reading.

The other kids were learning to read faster.

They were happy when it was time to read.

When it was my turn to read my first grade teacher would say, "Sloane you need to try harder."

She would say, "Pay attention."

She would also say, "You know this."

But I didn't.

I try, I really did, but that reading stuff just didn't make sense in my brain.

I didn't want the other kids to know that I couldn't read.

So I would do cartwheels inside, outside, everywhere.

My teacher would say, "Sloane."

Suddenly mom and dad were in on the reading thing too.

We had to read it home.

Mom would sigh and say, "Please read."

Dad would give me that dad look and saying his dad voice, "Sit down and read."

I would say, "Let's do cartwheels."

So one day you won't believe what happened.

I got to take a day off at school and go do stuff with a really nice lady.

Mom and dad said she was going to ask me to do some things that showed my special kind of smart.

We talked and did puzzles.

I even did a cartwheel for her.

A few days later mom and dad seemed real serious.

They said that we needed to talk.

I thought I was in big trouble.

They told me that I had something called dyslexia.

I said, "Dyslexic what?".

They said, "Dyslexia is something where your brain "was smart like mine, but it has a hard time "remembering letters and sounds and putting them together "the right way to make words."

I told them that reading was too hard, and that everyone else was learning to read but I wasn't.

They told me that every brain works differently, and every one is their own special kind of smart.

They said that my brain could crack this reading code, I just had to learn it in a different way.

I got to work with a special teacher and we went back to the start.

She taught me the reading code in a different way that made more sense to my brain.

Sometimes it was hard, sometimes it wasn't very fun.

Sometimes I would be naughty, and sometimes when my brain felt too full I would even get up and do cartwheels.

But I kept working, and the letters, and sounds, and words started to make sense.

C-A-T cat turned to (mowing).

S-A-I-D was said, U-P was always up.

I still love to sing and dance.

I still love to talk and make up stories.

I still love to do math, and I'm still an amazing artist.

But now I can read too.

Reading and writing is still hard work, but every once in a while I like it.

Sometimes I even get that reading magic that my brother has.

But now, even though it takes work, I know that I'm smart and my brain can do it.

I'm a special kind of smart.

At the end of the year my teacher asked me what advice I had for next year's first graders.

I told her to tell them to bring their favorite pencil because in first grade we have our very own desk where we can keep our things.

I told her to tell them first grade is great because you can eat dessert first at lunch, and play on the big kids playground.

She said, "Is that all?"

And then I remembered one more thing.

And I said, "I would tell them that everyone "is their own special kind of smart, "and not to give up because every one can crack "the reading code.

"And wait."

I said.

"Don't forget the very most important thing, "tell them not to do cartwheels in the classroom."

The end.

Everyone has their own special kind of smart, what's yours?

Thanks for reading with me, more books to come.

(gentle fading music).