The Middle of Everywhere (16 page)

The ELL kids needed help with self-definition. I wanted to put their birthdays on the calendar and take their pictures. I wanted to identify what each child did best. Question games might help. What was their favorite food? What games did they like? What was the scariest thing they ever did? The bravest thing? What was their earliest memory?

With ELL classes, I really understood the value of classrooms small enough that each child could be given individual attention. The kids were at very different developmental and acculturation levels. Some kids were precocious from war experiences but had missed kid experiences. Some children cared for younger siblings, cleaned and cooked, or even did factory piecework at home. A few had no play in their lives.

There were differences in intelligence, motivation to learn, energy, confidence, and likability. There were differences in the amount of trauma the kids had experienced and in the amount of family and community support they received in America. They all had much in common—they were strangers in a strange land, eager to be accepted. They liked games, music, puppets, and cookies. And they had a thousand needs. Compared to American kids, they tended to be better behaved, more respectful of adults, and less spoiled. Grace said the longer they were in America the more likely they were to act up.

It helped me to remember that these kids had simple needs as well as complicated ones, needs to be hugged, helped with spelling words, smiled at, and read to. Even small acts of kindness made a difference.

I had been in class three hours and was ready for a nap. How do teachers do this five days a week, eight hours a day?

September 22, 1999

I approached Sycamore on a crisp morning, with the sky blue, the leaves red and gold, and the light hitting the sycamore just right and turning its trunk silvery. When I walked into the classroom, Khoa jumped up and hugged me in an exaggerated, self-mocking way. He was both affectionate and embarrassed to be seeking affection. Pavel shouted out that there would be a fishing trip next week. I looked at Grace and she shrugged. I apologized, and she said, "Don't feel bad. The kids are really excited about this."

Ly plopped on my lap. Today she wore a Yum-Yum T-shirt and faded bell-bottom jeans. She weighed about forty pounds and reminded me of a hummingbird, light as air, but pure energy. She had a cough and twice I offered her cough drops from my purse. I invited Mai to join us and I read them a Laura Ingalls Wilder story. Ly snuggled in. Mai sat stiffly, but she listened carefully to my voice.

Today Walat was student helper. As he handed out paper and pencils, Grace wrote tool words—"hammer," "nail," "scissors," "screwdriver"—on the board. Walat looked at pictures of these tools with great interest.

Abdul and Pavel scuffled over a pencil. Pavel wore a green sweat suit from Goodwill that left a few inches of skin between his shirt and pants. Instead of watching the board, Pavel doodled and scratched his stomach. I moved over and sat between him and Abdul.

Trinh looked exactly as she had last week, with the same outfit and the same inscrutable expression. Beside her, Deena leafed through a picture book on animals of the jungle. Twice Deena tried to show Trinh a picture and start a talk, but Trinh ignored her.

Whenever Grace asked a question, Fatima raised her hand with ready, but not always right, answers. Fatima and Deena were both from Muslim families, but they were being raised quite differently. Fatima's family was more traditional. She wore long flowery dresses and a head scarf. Deena dressed in a sweat suit and wore her hair in a ponytail.

Ignazio wandered in late. The ELL students were often tardy and Grace was casual about time. She permitted table talk and interruptions in the lessons for side discussions. She limited her discipline to a soft "Let's use our quiet voices now."

Deena and Fatima argued about a book. Grace stayed out of it until Fatima called Deena stupid, then she said, "In this class we are kind to each other." Ly, who had been watching anxiously, smiled to herself.

Abdul had his head on the desk and wasn't even pretending to work. I sat by him and gently prodded him into picking up his pencil. His body language shouted, "Go away," but I persisted.

Grace asked the students to write a letter to members of a sorority to thank them for a fund-raising project for the school. She wrote a simple letter on the board as an example. Walat and Ly followed the format exactly and soon had good letters ready. Pavel's letter was covered with smudges and cross outs: "Thank you for caring about our school. We want you to stay our friends." Deena's letter was neatly written and flowery: "Thank you with all of my heart for your great efforts. I wish you long lives and many great times."

Abdul and I labored over his letter with me doing most of the work. But when it was time to sign his name, Abdul suggested that we sign it, "From one of the kids who learns the best, Abdul."

Mai struggled with handwriting, spelling, and even the sentiment. I had the feeling she had heard few words of thanks herself. But when she finished, I praised her work. She shyly told me she had a Big Sister now, a young woman named Amy who came over Saturday afternoons. Next week Amy was taking her to the park. Mai spoke of Amy as if she were a fairy godmother.

Grace demonstrated simple tools: a lever, a pulley, and an inclined plane. While she talked, the lads passed around Nibbles, a docile black-and-white rat. Except for Trinh, all of the kids appeared to love Nibbles. As Deena whispered and stroked Nibbles, she seemed to relax a little and her blue eyes softened.

We sang "Farmer in the Dell" and used the tool names. Then Grace led the class in a patriotic song, "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean," which many sang as "Columbus Jump in the Ocean." Still, it was a rousing version that had us all clapping at the end.

I had read of children in a refugee camp in Angola who were singing and dancing as a way to learn their lessons and heal from the trauma of war. I wished we could do more teaching in song.

September 29, 1999—The Fishing Trip

It was a good day for the trip—blue sky, seventy degrees, and still. Pavel ran up to me when I walked into the classroom. He had a pole and a brand-new tackle box filled with lures and a can of government corn labeled for distribution to low-income people. But that corn was for the fish—his mother had packed him a Big Mac and candies. Khoa was jumping up and down like a jack-in-the-box. Deena in her red cape with her blond curls looked like Little Red Riding Hood. She asked if we could bring Nibbles along. Grace said, "No, I'm sorry."

Ignazio unzipped his jacket and slipped Nibbles in by his stomach, but Grace gently lifted Nibbles out and put him away. Fatima held up her arms and said, "Carry me." Grace said, "Our arms are full of equipment." We marched everyone to the special vans and drove to Holmes Lake.

At the lake parking lot, we passed out poles. While I baited hooks, Grace gave instructions on casting and reeling. Abdul, Ignazio, and Walat had fished before, but Trinh, Ly, and Deena watched what was clearly a new lesson. Pavel proudly prepared his pole, while Khoa cast blithely at the picnic table. Mai hung back, but I took her hand and helped her select a fishing spot. Before he began, Pavel ate his Big Mac; "For energy," he said.

With much shouting and bragging about skills, the other kids spread out along the shore. It was a nice tableau—red and gold trees, silver water, and happy children. Trinh cast once then set her pole down and stared across the lake. Deena's red coat shone against the blue water. She walked over to Trinh and asked her if she needed help. Trinh shook her head no, but Deena stayed beside her anyway. Ly danced along the shore, pirouetting from rock to rock.

Mai found some broken glass and scratched at her arm. I went over and took the glass away. I said, "It isn't good for you to hurt yourself when you do not know what to do."

Ignazio tossed his line, snagging, then ripping, then snagging again. Soon I was retying a hook for him, untangling other lines, rebaiting hooks, and then, miracle of miracles, taking off a fish. Ignazio shouted out, "
Gracias a Dios!
" and held up his five-inch catfish for all to see. Just then Walat caught a little sun perch, which he expertly took off himself. I took his picture holding his fish up. Then he gently put it in our bucket.

Pavel was upset that Walat and Ignazio had caught the first fish and he positioned himself in their area. Meanwhile, Khoa cast his entire pole into the water and jumped in after it. By the time we got him out of the water he was soaked and had lost a shoe and his pole. But he had achieved what he wanted, which was to steal the show from Walat, who had now caught a second fish.

With what sounded like Russian cursing, Pavel redoubled his efforts. Fatima grew discouraged and sat down on a pile of rocks. Soon Deena and Trinh joined her, and the girls watched a green caterpillar crawl across the grass. Fatima wanted to pick it up, but Deena said firmly, "Leave her alone."

Meanwhile, Abdul had also quit fishing but he noticed that Ignazio's line was all tangled up and he worked to unravel the bird nest of tackle. For the first time since I'd met him he seemed interested in something. Walat caught another perch and then Ly pulled in a small bass. She danced around with her fish, looking like happiness personified.

Watching kids fish was a good way to learn about them. Some like Walat and Ly were patient and methodical; others like Pavel and Khoa couldn't setde down. Ignazio was enthusiastic but clumsy. Trinh and Fatima were indifferent to the sport, while Deena, an animal rights activist in the making, kept asking Grace if the fishes' mouths were hurt by the hooks.

With her pole still in the water, Mai wandered off alone. She sat under a willow tree, her hands folded in her lap. The natural world is a great healer and her body looked more relaxed.

Soon we had twenty perch and the small catfish—Walat caught seven, while Pavel hadn't caught any. Pavel's frustration had built, making him a less and less competent fisherman. He wouldn't stay in one spot but ran to wherever anyone else had caught a fish and wrestled for their place. Then, when nothing happened, he would try a new piece of tackle or eat his candies.

Meanwhile, Abdul fixed Fatima's pole and untangled Ly's line. He messed with Ignazio's broken reel. I wondered if we could find him a shop project or even let him follow the maintenance staff around.

Ignazio held a fish up to his lips and kissed it, talking to it as if it were a little pet. Then Deena and Walat released all the fish. As they swam away, Deena asked, "Will they live?"

Grace got out Five Alive and Goldfish. The kids liked those little cracker fish, but they didn't like the bees that gathered around the juice. Still, Pavel and Ignazio managed to drink three cups of juice each and then needed a bathroom.

Abdul bragged to no one in particular, "I fixed three poles and I'd fix Khoa's, too, if we could find it." Khoa shouted unapologetically, "My pole lives with the fishes now."

Walat, Ly, and Deena gathered and stacked the poles. All the kids looked happy today, the way people do when they are lucky enough to be outdoors in beautiful weather. I thought how rich our country is, and yet we are all inside toiling on gorgeous days. It is hard on everyone, but especially on children.

We took more pictures, passed out the rest of the Goldfish, and then, alas, headed for the vans. Pavel said, "If we could just stay a while longer, I could catch a big fish." I didn't say, "We'll come back soon."

October 14, 1999

It was a blue-sky day and the leaves were turning on the sycamore. There is something about a crisp fall morning, walking into a school, the voices of children, the smell of sunshine on leaves, that brings back my own childhood. I could see Beaver City Elementary, smell the chalk and the cereal breath of my classmates.

I'd been sick for a week. And several of the students had colored get-well cards for me. Khoa was an origami master and his card was large and elaborate. Ly had written, "Miss Mary, you are so nice. I missed you." Deena had drawn fish and flowers and written, "Please get well, Miss Mary." But Mai wouldn't look at me, and Pavel asked accusingly, "Were you really sick?"

These kids had said too many good-byes and they didn't like feeling abandoned, even for a few days. I made a point to state loudly that I was healthy now and would be returning regularly. I passed around pictures of our fishing trip. Pavel asked if he could keep the one of him with his new tackle box. I handed it to him but reflected that Pavel always wanted more attention, more food, and more time with Nibbles. Many of the kids were like him, filled with needs of every kind. Yet there were also kids like Trinh who appeared to want nothing from any of us. Today Trinh moved like a duck on water, movement without motion, gliding.

I watched Mai draw her baby brother, then beside his crib, she drew a giant red Stop sign. I asked her if she had gone to the children's museum with Amy and she nodded. "Amy is good," she said soberly.

While Grace gave a spelling test, Abdul fooled with two video games—Nitro and War Zone. Grace said, "Put them away or I will have to keep them." She whispered to me, "I wish we could ban these games. Yesterday I confiscated Mayhem and Deadly Arts from Khoa. These kids have enough problems without violent role models."

As if to demonstrate her concerns, at just that moment, Abdul and Pavel got into a scuffle. Grace sent both boys to quiet corners to think about their behavior. She said to me, "It's been a rough morning. Khoa was teased on the playground about his purple pants. Ignazio was called a wetback." She sighed. "Many of these kids come from war zones where violence is the first thing people do when they are upset. I want them to learn they have choices."

She called the boys together and talked to them. "Pavel, what else could you have done when Abdul took your backpack?"

Pavel said, "I could have asked him, 'What do you need, buddy?'" Grace hugged him and laughed. "That's right."

Deena wrote her numbers along one side of the paper and diligently began to spell out words. Ly and Walat did the same. Ignazio, who had some egg yolk on his shirt, kept rubbing his eyes, and I suspected he had stayed up late to see his parents.