Sometimes we feel the experts
Are merely there to fool you
The last thing that they said she had
Was a touch of dyscalculia
Sometimes we look at our darling child
And wonder if something’s lacking
We know that ‘neath the labels piled
Is a person, who needs our backing
Which she’ll get from us, by the bucketful
Despite our private pleading
That someone, out there, somewhere
Will help her with her reading