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.

Teach a man to Fish

Yesterday, the two visiting fifteen year old boys were digging in the compost pile for worms. They wanted to fish in the pond. Peter, the dad, had been down to the barn with them to find the fishing equipment. They had oiled the reels and checked out the gear. They were ready to go. They had no luck with the live worms but there were purple plastic worms to be used. From the upstairs window I watched these two almost-men out in the pond on the boat casting their lines.

This was a weekend when we had sixteen guests, all with different agendas. Peter and Anne and the boys were in the guest house. Our daughter and her toddler son, Quincy were here in the main house with Tory, also fifteen, and her grandmother, June. The others came only for the day on Sunday.

I see these very different people modeling behavior for their children. Anne and Peter patiently show their kids what to do and how to do it. June shows Tory by example how to be a grown-up.

Anne's and Peter's kids have been in our life since they were very small. The oldest is now in college. They are all interested in the natural world and love our place. The whole family gets out to help clean up our woodland trails, brings wheelbarrows full of mulch and cow pies to the asparagus bed, and Peter loves to help in the ever needing mowing of the pastures.

This weekend the boys were determined to catch a fish. When I went out this morning to empty the compost, I saw that there was Big Activity at the guest house. Peter was taking photos of the large mouth bass the boys caught. He was gently directing them in a plan for where and how to clean and fillet the fish that they would eat for breakfast.

Later, as we were taking the latest batch of guests on a truck ride around the property, I saw one of the boys working on a fish with his knife. They had caught another one! This one was to be taken home to Mom (nicely filleted). Both of them had learned how to persevere, how to deal with a live fish, just caught. No doubt, they learned how to cook it too!

These parents have taken their kids everywhere with them as they pursue their scientific lives. They patiently teach and explain and model an ethical, joyous, and responsible life. They teach their kids how to do stuff! I see the magnificence of the transmission of culture from one generation to another. This family has had more than its share of trouble. Anne lost one arm and a lung to cancer. Yet they are so whole! This is a family that teaches their kids to fish.

June, Tory's grandmother, is also teaching her granddaughter to fish. Tory, a lovely fifteen year old black girl, has dreadlocks like her grandmother. She is here in Florida (from Maryland) to explore the possibility of living here and going to school. She has been home schooled this year because of really bad bullying problems at her high school. Tory is smart, academically at the top and needing a change. My daughter loves Tory's mom and suggested that Tory might come down to Florida for a change in her educational life and live with her. So Tory is thinking about this. June came down for a few days to check everything out. She left Florida this morning.

I watched June and Tory as they were here on the ranch. It must have been as strange to them as being in Afghanistan. Here they were in WASP land, pretty prosperous, everything different from their lives back home. We had a dinner with all the current guests . June was lovely with me and with Tory. I could see she was taking everything in. June and Tory spent a morning in my studio making clay art. June knows that Tory is contemplating making a tremendous leap into the unknown. She wants Tory to know she has her support. Here was another model of one generation to another. In some ways, this model is more scary and iffy, because, unlike that of Peter and Anne, there is no comfortable underpinning.

Seeing these incredible people with their progeny and how they patiently and wisely transmit their best values, humbles me and makes me hopeful.

The thirty thousand dollar couch

Today, I read in the New York Times about a couple of people in Manhattan who were buying a $30,000 couch. This was to go into their multi-million dollar apartment. Here is a photo of a couch (in the background) that is worth uncountable dollars. This particular couch, located in a small town in northern California, is humble at first notice. It wasn't made by Italian artisans, but it is comfortable with pillows and throws made by real people that I know. The love in those petit point pillows took time and love and is worth millions of dollars. You can't see it here, but there are dog hairs embedded in the couch fabric. That dog, Stella, was worth maybe several million dollars in the love she gave her people. The coffee stains on the upholstery from many lovely family mornings, the history of babies, and the scratch marks from the cat are all here -the leavings of lives well lived on this very valuable couch. Worth a lot.

The person sitting in front of the very valuable couch is trying to repack a backpack after having spent the night on the couch. No doubt, during the night, she pulled her child onto the couch with her for food and comfort. All worth millions.

What in the world can we be thinking? Is it somewhere o.k. to spend such extravagant sums on decorating? Was the NYT doing a spoof? $30,000! This could fund a year in a private college, thirty field trips for a title one public school, thirty grants to people who need childcare so they can get going on their lives. $30,000! You could buy a nice trailer for a homeless family, you could buy a car that would make a difference for a family. You could fund a chair in a university, you could rescue a public library in a small town, you could, you could, you could..

These newly very rich people have no imagination. And why would they? (They are stuck in that children's game of MASH where one gets to live in a mansion and drive a Masserati.) In our times, we have never been asked to think about sacrifice or the good of others or the planet, thanks to Our Current Occupant in the Whitehouse. When you have people leaping from humble beginnings to great wealth, it seems they mostly gravitate to the swarmy tastelessness of showing off their wealth. We see the sports stars and celebrities building mansions and living in magnificent style.

I have a lovely life and I worry that our footprint is too large. I cannot be too judgemental. BUT! I do not have a $30,000 couch! Mine is worth way more than that as I cuddle my grandchild and read him a story, little dog warm between us.

Lacoochee, again

No photos today, but many kids in my head. My mission this fall as a volunteer at Lacoochee Elementary School is to mastermind a "science challenge" group of eighteen fifth graders who will be doing a 4-H project of a vegetable garden. This needs to be accomplished in 45 minutes a week. Yikes!

I started out with a name game so we could be acquainted with each other (their names are daunting to me, such ones as Brasheeka and Image, and ordinary ones spelled funny), and then we went on to eat broccoli and dip. I asked them what part of the broccoli they were eating. The leaves? The roots? The stem? Finally, one little girl said, "the blossoms?" Oh, yes!

After many "eeuows! and Icks", they pronounced the raw broccoli very good. They liked the yogurt dip. Then we went out to inspect the place of the proposed garden. We checked the water supply. It was working.

I had small pots for them to use to plant kale and zinnia seeds. They carefully carried the pots back to a place outside the science room and they promised to water their seeds every day. It was obvious that these kids have had no experience at all with caring for plants. When I return next week, we'll see what has grown-or not.

There is only 45 minutes for this activity! How can we create a garden in only this amount of time every week? The science teacher seems very laid back, easy in her job. I would love to organize her room and install an interesting aquarium, cages full of hamsters and guinea pigs and mice, butterfly chrysalises waiting to hatch. I would love to see paper cups full of experiments, crystal things dripping, the mess of science. Today I saw adult disorganization and very little that was inviting to a child. I did see a lot of expensive scales and science tools. I wish that schools could get rid of those horrid "canned" bulletin board things that no one ever looks at anyway.

But, so, I have hope for this project. I am connected already to several of the kids. Of course I will continue to be critical because I believe that these good and patient children deserve the best we have to give them.

Lacoochee Elementary School in rural Pasco County of Florida is not faintly related to Georgetown Day School in Washington, D.C. or the Chapin School in Manhattan. The vast socio-economic gulf is so deep and wide it is beyond imagining. And yet, I believe that from time to time a Lacoochee kid will rise like yeast and make it big in this world. Many others who do not make it big will be solid citizens and good and caring Americans of all colors.

I am on the forward edge of those boomers. We are going to make a difference as we get out there in critical mass as volunteers who act, speak up and care for our neighbors, our country, and our planet.