A lady wrote me this past, well, yesterday I got the letter from Boston. She was born in this state, lived here until about a year ago when she married a fellow who came from Boston, and they returned to Boston. She took her little boy with her. She said, “When the boy was nine years old (he’s now eleven), when he was nine, a psychiatrist and the principal of the school and a teacher had me in to tell me that the boy was backward, and could never really make the grade. Don’t push him, just leave him alone, because he is not equal to it, and he never will be as long as he lives. That’s the story that they gave me.”722 ¶13