The Tutor's House

Jacob recently started working with an academic tutor who specializes in teaching dyslexic students. She lives in a beautiful Victorian-style house that is filled with lovely antique furniture and vintage knick-knacks. When we walked into the tutor's home for Jacob's first lesson, we noticed some unusually loud tick-tick-ticking sounds. We were also greeted by an old snorting pug dog that we learned was not only blind, but deaf as well. As we nonchalantly glanced around to determine where the clamorous ticking noises were coming from, we saw clocks hanging on all of the walls and sitting on all of the shelves. Many, many clocks. More clocks, in fact, than I have ever seen in one place. The tutor led us into the dining room where she indicated that she and Jacob would work. She handed me some forms to read and complete, so I sat at the table to fill them out. The ticking of the multiple clocks was so obtrusive that I could barely concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing. When one o'clock arrived minutes later, I was certain that the chiming and bonging would never stop. I finally asked the tutor exactly how many clocks she owned and she answered matter-of-factly, "Seventy-five." As the hourly deluge eventually quieted down, we were then confronted by a rhythmic wheeze-grunt-yip, wheeze-grunt-yip racket from beneath the table. A quick glance confirmed that the elderly pug was asleep at Jacob's feet. Between the incessant ticking and the unrelenting canine snoring, I wondered if Jacob would even be able to focus on the teacher's instructions. Though he agreed that the noises were quite distracting, his biggest complaint about the tutor's house has been the uncomfortableness of her dining room chairs. While I did find them somewhat hard, Jacob refers to them as "butt crushers." Since he seems to be getting used to the clocks and the dog, I will just bring him a pillow or cushion to sit on next week, and, hopefully, he will continue making progress with this dyslexia tutelage.