I told Dorothy, "I notice that you walked yourself into the school yesterday without a teacher. Do you know your way to your classroom?" Dorothy answered, "Not really. The door keeps changing." "The door keeps changing?" I repeated. "Does your classroom change?" "No," she said, "the door keeps changing into different holidays."
Dorothy asked what literate meant. I told her, and she said, "Oh, I'm a literate." "No, you're not -- you can read," I said. "That's what I said," she responded. "I'm a literate."