The system is designed for his failure - to sound the alarm as the first fifty percent achieve the standard set by the minister. Maturation, growth and development according to nature, die in the machination of levelled gears - like a flower determined to peek through the crack in a hot concrete jungle, he tries again.

He bites and then purses his lips, brows furrowed. The fluorescent lights above his head buzz. The room is cool, warmed only by the commercial grade carpet - dark blue. A clock ticks. The reading support room is quiet, devoid of distractions - even the paint on the walls is a sterile white.

The teacher has chosen the material in his hand. He should be able to read it - if only he could somehow find his ‘why’.

He considered the cover and read the title. ‘Popcorn, the Wonder Pony’. Colorful illustrations depicting eight year old girls gathered for a ride, English style, intended to entice the reader to decode the story, to join the girls in their riding pursuits, to fall in love with the pony.

Imagining himself in the seat of an eight year old girl passionately interested in horses proves to be a challenge too great for the eight year old hockey player.

He flips through the first few pages to discover the material he must digest is chapters long. There will be many many pages of ‘Popcorn, the Wonder Pony’.

His shoulders slump as his head slowly lowers, face down now resting forehead on the table. The tension in his fingers gives way to a limp grasp and the thin paperback slides to the table top, bounces and settles silently on the floor. The child groans - and his potential dims - this is how we kill the love of learning in a child - one levelled reader at a time.