Volunteering at My Neighborhood School

Last week I entered my neighborhood elementary school with a bit of trepidation. I had been away from schools for almost twenty years. I had heard the horror stories about disruptive, even violent, students. But I am tough. Even though I am petite, I would still tower over most of the K-5 students. Or at least that was my hope.

First I had to get through the door. I dutifully followed the instructions on the door to ring the buzzer and I would be admitted. I did and I wasn't. Fortunately, a student came along and opened the door. I slid in behind him.

The helpful, friendly office staff showed me how to sign in. I peeled off the name tag and stuck it on my shirt while she paged the teacher I was to report to for training.

The school is an open-classroom one. Or it was originally. Like most of these that were built in the 1970s, this one has varying partitions to separate the classes.

After a brief introduction to the remedial reading tools they are using, I was off to the first classroom to pick up my student. I was both relieved and disappointed that she was absent. I would have 20 minutes until my next student. I sat in the teacher's office listening to the class across the hall.

There were no blood-curdling screams or backtalk. Instead the well-mannered students were participating in a discussion. Once the teacher reminded a student to keep his feet still since they were impinging on another student's space.

The appointed time came for me to pick up my second student. J. was quiet and reserved. He stumbled through the reading but gamely "chunked" the words he did not know. Our half hour came to an end without a smile from J.

T., on the other hand, was all personality. Although identified as reading below grade level, he had no problems with the book we were using. In fact, he reads fluently and with expression. Perhaps he has testing issues.

Today I woke eager to return a second time. Again my first student was absent.

J. again seemed shy and reserved with me. Then I happened to ask him what his best subject was - math. And his worst? Reading. I told him that my worst subject was art. I saw his eyes light up. And then the floodgates opened. The school has just begun a project to turn the boring white acoustic ceiling tiles into works of art. J. explained that they were working in pairs to decide what their tile would look like. After this detour from reading, J. was more outgoing and expressive.

I was really looking forward to seeing T. again. Extroverts just naturally enjoy each other. Last week we began a book set in the 1880s. There were so many teachable moments. We covered ice boxes and kerosene heaters. I wondered what would come up this week. The book is about Milton and a blizzard. Today's reading contained a passage about Milton's imagining having a sled pulled by the neighborhood dogs. T. had never seen a picture of a real sled dog so he did not appreciate the humor of the illustration of an Irish Setter, an Old English Sheepdog, and the other assorted neighborhood dogs pulling a sled. Note to self: bring a picture of Alaskan huskies. When it was time to part, I said that I would see him next Tuesday. He was obviously disappointed, "Won't I see you on Thursday?"

Wonder how long the honeymoon period will last?