conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a description for a book titled Tiger's Child about Child, Sheila, Torey with the genre: Biographies & Memoirs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Torey the author returns with this deeply-moving sequel to her first book, One Child (the Sunday Times bestseller). After seven years, Torey is reunited with Sheila, the disturbed 6-year-old she tried to rescue. Sheila was a deeply disturbed six-year-old when she came into Torey the author's life -- a story poignantly chronicled One Child. The Tiger's Child picks up the story seven years later. the author has lost touch with the child she helped to free from a hellish inner prison of rage and silence. But now Sheila is back, now a gangly teenager with bright orange hair -- no longer broken and lost, but still troubled and searching for answers. This story of dedication and caring that began in childhood moves into a new and extraordinary chapter that tests the strength and heart of both Sheila and her one-time teacher. In The Tiger's Child the skilled and loving educator answers the call once again to help a child in need through her difficult yet glorious transition into young womanhood.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In The Tiger's Child the skilled and loving educator answers the call once again to help a child in need through her difficult yet glorious transition into young womanhood.. This story of dedication and caring that began in childhood moves into a new and extraordinary chapter that tests the strength and heart of both Sheila and her one-time teacher. But now Sheila is back, now a gangly teenager with bright orange hair -- no longer broken and lost, but still troubled and searching for answers. the author has lost touch with the child she helped to free from a hellish inner prison of rage and silence. The Tiger's Child picks up the story seven years later. Sheila was a deeply disturbed six-year-old when she came into Torey the author's life -- a story poignantly chronicled One Child. After seven years, Torey is reunited with Sheila, the disturbed 6-year-old she tried to rescue.Torey the author returns with this deeply-moving sequel to her first book, One Child (the Sunday Times bestseller)
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Tiger's Child
  My own life was taking an unexpected turn over that period. I'd opened the Sunday newspaper a couple of weekends earlier and had seen an advertisement for a midyear vacancy in a special education class for emotionally disturbed children. It was in a small community in an adjacent state. The strange fact was that I hadn't been looking for a new job at the time. I'd thought I was perfectly happy at the Sandry. However, the moment I saw the advert, I'd felt a terrible longing to be back in the classroom again.
  I told Sheila that I had applied, although at that point I didn't know whether or not I would get the position. She took my news with the same equanimity that I had taken hers about school and the Latin club. She was bemused by my choice to abandon a well-paying job at a private clinic to return to the classroom. Money was becoming an important issue to Sheila and she had a hard time understanding the rationale behind my actions, but she seemed pleased to think I would be a teacher again.
  I did get the job and early January found me almost two hundred miles away from the city in a small town called Pecking. I heard from Sheila occasionally. She never was much of a letter writer, so it wasn't often, and then, as usual, they were seldom letters in the traditional sense. Consequently, I didn't always know what was going on. From what I did hear, she continued to be well settled at her school and with her father. He was making another effort at keeping himself out of trouble. I heard a lot about AA. Sheila joined Ala-teen, and this was where she met Claire. Claire, who was eighteen and also a senior at Sheila's school, had not come from the same deprived background as Sheila. Indeed, hers was a privileged upbringing of tennis lessons and summer camps. Yet, disguised behind all this was a world of parental drunkenness and abuse. Claire and Sheila found in one another the understanding other peers couldn't give them and their friendship grew.
  In March we had a two-day break from school and I came up to the city. Stopping by Sheila's house, I had the opportunity to meet Claire myself. She was a solemn girl with very long black hair and glasses that gave her an owlish look. She had about her that terrible seriousness of adolescence that lends itself naturally to discussions of Sartre or ecology, and Sheila kept agreeing with her when she made dark, profound statements to me. For the first time I saw Sheila as she was, an intelligent, articulate teenager creating her own identity.
  I didn't see her again until May, when we met for lunch at a pizzeria in the city. I almost didn't recognize her when I saw her. Her bangs, so long in the process of growing out, had finally reached the length of the rest of her hair and were incorporated in a smooth, blunt cut that swept back from her face and down over her shoulders. She had highlighted it slightly, which brought up the natural blond and drew attention to its glossiness. The punky clothes were gone, but not her natural sense of style. Layered one over the other were two T-shirts, a cotton dress and a denim jacket, teamed with chunky clay jewelry. Her appearance had the modern sophistication of the catwalk.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I didn't see her again until May, when we met for lunch at a pizzeria in the city. I almost didn't recognize her when I saw her. Her bangs, so long in the process of growing out, had finally reached the length of the rest of her hair and were incorporated in a smooth, blunt cut that swept back from her face and down over her shoulders. She had highlighted it slightly, which brought up the natural blond and drew attention to its glossiness. The punky clothes were gone, but not her natural sense of style. Layered one over the other were two T-shirts, a cotton dress and a denim jacket, teamed with chunky clay jewelry. Her appearance had the modern sophistication of the catwalk.
  I regarded her. She had been cagey about her plans after graduation. I'd asked her a couple of times in letters, but she had never responded at all, even to tell me which scholarships she was applying for. This left me intrigued and anticipating a surprise. Secretly, I suspected she'd been accepted to a particularly excellent university and was going to use this lunch to tell me.
  We chatted amiably, ordered our pizzas, and chatted some more. Sheila told me that Claire had been accepted at Stanford, her first choice.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I didn't see her again until May, when we met for lunch at a pizzeria in the city. I almost didn't recognize her when I saw her. Her bangs, so long in the process of growing out, had finally reached the length of the rest of her hair and were incorporated in a smooth, blunt cut that swept back from her face and down over her shoulders. She had highlighted it slightly, which brought up the natural blond and drew attention to its glossiness. The punky clothes were gone, but not her natural sense of style. Layered one over the other were two T-shirts, a cotton dress and a denim jacket, teamed with chunky clay jewelry. Her appearance had the modern sophistication of the catwalk.
  I regarded her. She had been cagey about her plans after graduation. I'd asked her a couple of times in letters, but she had never responded at all, even to tell me which scholarships she was applying for. This left me intrigued and anticipating a surprise. Secretly, I suspected she'd been accepted to a particularly excellent university and was going to use this lunch to tell me.
  We chatted amiably, ordered our pizzas, and chatted some more.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Perhaps the best way to end is with the last "Dear Mom" letter I received from Sheila. She'd kept a diary during the middle years of her teens and had copied into it the same "Dear Mom" letters that she'd been sending to me. A few years ago, she came across her old diary and after reading through those letters, she wrote to me telling me about it. Fixed to the back of her letter was this: