My tutor, Mrs. Kruse, was assigned to me for the entire year. Together we covered the realms of English, math, social studies and science with the help of a collection of text books which she obtained from my "would-have-been-teachers." Several times each week she would stop to teach and collect previous lessons. Since she was amiable, highly intelligent and challenging in nature, I looked forward to her visits; the time always passed quite rapidly. In addition to prescribed lessons, Mrs. Kruse suggested reading material which she deemed of interest to me, and as a highlight to one of the social studies chapters, drove me to a local museum. The trip was a memorable occasion, if simply due to the fact that I spent the majority of the days alone and at home. She also demonstrated interest in my extra-curricular activities as well as the regular academic subjects; I would sometimes show her my various crafts and "works of art" with which I involved myself to abort any loneliness or dejection I might have otherwise encountered had I not kept occupied. My projects included anything which was not overly monotonous, and time thus spent would often encompass more than one casual employment to assure that my interest would not shrivel up and die before an object's completion. Occasionally one of the lovely ladies from church would include me in crafts, and consequently, I turned out decoupaged eggs and quilted pillows by the number. I attempted a painting of a rural scene, and on other days I would draw, sew, or macrame; at times I would pinpoint my interest in the creation of gifts and culinary delights. A prominent aid to my artistic whims came to me by way of my father's love and craftsmanship; he spent hours of his spare time constructing a shadow box for miniature arrangements. Through the same five days, during which time Mom and I were in Rochester for my treatment, he also repainted my bedroom. I was awestruck upon my return to think of his feverish, love-wrought labors; through work he was able to ease his internal suffering which accompanied my physical trials. If nothing more, he was at least DOING SOMETHING, which seemed to allay one of his foremost grievances toward my illness in a temporary fashion. I felt relieved to stay at home that year; it would have been difficult to feel comfortable when I was sporting a wig. At this age, so many kids allow themselves to be governed by popular opinion, whether or not that opinion has been justly founded. One may be treated kindly only to be defaced later in private discussions. When fear based on one's acceptability governs his actions, it is his convictions and conscience that sustain punishment. While many students may have attempted to understand the unpleasantness of my situation, others would have taunted malicious threats or voiced insensitive remarks; physically I was to weak to withstand such cruelty on a daily basis.