Two Schools

This Friday at San Antonio Elementary School the kids were eager to see me and find out what I had for them on this day. They were waiting to help me unload my satchels and boxes. The air is a little cooler in the mornings and I noticed it as I drove that very pretty fifteen minute trip over the horse dotted hills and valleys and parked in the school lot. I also noticed that mid fall response that teachers have: Now, it's time to take stock, pull together, and make that push to have this group really function well. Marissa, the teacher I volunteer for is not one of those "don't smile until after Thanksgiving" teachers. In fact, she has a wonderfully impish smile and the kids clearly see she knows them and cares for them. But lately there have been some attitude issues and a lot of late homework. Time to rectify this.

She told them that they would not be able to participate in Miss Molly's activity if they had not done their work or shown responsible behavior. They didn't quite believe it until I arrived with a load of fresh clay. I took the group of kids who had finished everything and we had a lovely morning of making clay pieces. One by one, the other kids joined us as they finished their work. They worked with quiet intensity and when we were done several hours later, there were trays of pots of all kinds. We talked about the clay and we considered how to make the things strong and stand up to the heat of the kiln. They are eager to see the fired results and they are thinking about the glazing process. They said, "I wish you were our art teacher!"

Marissa, their teacher, is welcoming to me and opens every aspect of her organized classroom to me. I know where everything can be found. It is a comfortable place. When I go into the storage closets, I see the large amounts of supplies sent in by parents. This class of kids looks very modern American. The kids are of all races and economic backgrounds. The predominate feeling here is that all these kids are well cared for. This is not a Title One school, nor is it particularly affluent.

One would think that schools in the same district would be pretty similar. In my limited experience as a volunteer they are definitely different. At Lacoochee, a Title One school, where I volunteer on Tuesday afternoons, there is a subtly different feel. To begin with, the trip, as one gets within a mile or two of the school, is a little bit frightening. I drive through public housing tracts, derelict convenience stores, and I see lots of young men lounging about on the fringes and not doing much. I see pregnant young hispanic women pushing strollers full of tiny kids and other tiny kids trailing along behind.

Inside the school, there is a slight dishelvement of the place. In the classroom where I volunteer, the teacher seems disheartened and lacks the energetic spark. As I arrived with sacks of potting soil and all the paraphenalia one needs to garden, she did not offer to help me unload. She sort of faded off. She never has any plans for what to do. She did finally rummage around and find a catalog that had raised beds kits and she said she would like those. O.K. It is mid October. Who will construct these? Who will pay for them? If it can be done, will there be time to put in plants and have a harvest before frost?

The kids who came to the gardening group were great. Now I know all their names and I joke with them. I had decided that we would make a big container garden so we filled the pots I brought with soil and compost and planted the seeds of their choosing. The teacher had not thought ahead about a water source, so I made the decision about where to place the containers (close to a spiggot) and gave them new watering cans so they could keep their containers watered. The kids were well satisfied with their efforts. I am sure they will water their containers during the week. There were a few cabbage and collard seedlings left over so I gave them to the kids who had gardens at home. They were thrilled. Each child left with a fresh apple. I told them to bring back the cores for the worm farm. (I had looked at it and seen nothing added recently.) Just before the buses left several kids dashed in to put their apple cores into the worm bin.

As I was collecting the garden tools and packing up to leave, I heard the music teacher playing tunes on his saxophone at the bus loop. So lovely. And several parents and kids I know from last year called out to me to stop! (Miss Molly, when can we come and visit you?)

Such a lot to think about for this old and experienced teacher.