Arthur looked at the bar. His teacher had been raising the bar for a few weeks now. She had to. Arthur knew that. But the height of the bar was starting to worry him, because Arthur was short, and the bar was getting very high. He had tried to jump over. Honestly he had. But everyone else here was a year older than him. The others were quite a bit taller, so that meant they could get over the bar more easily. Arthur sat there, chewing at his nails.
Arthur’s teacher came over to him.
“Don’t worry, Arthur,” she said. She heaved a heavy sigh, like she was a bit sad about something. “The bar is pretty high for you at the moment,” she said, “but you are gradually making your way towards a time when you will be able to jump it. I still believe in you, even if you can’t do it yet. Don’t worry about it.” She smiled at him.
Arthur didn’t really know what his teacher meant, but he kind of understood what her sigh had been about. Arthur’s teacher put a hand on his shoulder as she spoke. It felt warm on Arthur’s shoulder and made him feel a bit less bad. Yes, Arthur thought, I might not know all my KS2 spellings, but my teacher still cares about me if I don’t.