Many students are like the land I imagine in my notebooks. Rolling plains that seem barren hide blossoms that await just the right combination of sun and rain. Sometimes it's a desperate quest. I hear teens sound out words letter by letter. Some can't embrace literature because they never mastered consonant blends.
Sight words are too few and far between.
I don't like any of that. Some days finding the right words is like yanking my wisdom teeth. I wish they were less needy, that I could fix the problem with a rewrite or two, crumpling and tossing what I don't like. They've grown to cringe from words, so show me fear and anger first. Eyes dare me to dip into their icy river, sure they will win, that I will come no closer than the shore.