My job brings me into different schools and treatment facilities, public and private, every few weeks. I love it. I love meeting new students, I love getting children of all ages excited about language. Basically, I adore my job. For the past few months I had been
primarily working at a simply amazing private school. It is run on the Montessori method. However, I have worked in many Montessori schools, and this one is by far the most wonderful: exceptional teachers, devoted staff, caring parents, and delightful, engaging students. It is housed in a gorgeous building, filled with light and very peaceful spaces. There is a forest around it, and wonderful, natural outdoor playing spaces. I feel at home there and look forward to being back there in the spring. For the most part, the families that send their children there are blessed financially. But they are also one of the most generous communities I have ever worked in. I work in countless schools. Some I like --some, not so much. However, this winter I have
been very fortunate. I'm going from one school I adore, to another.
In many ways, the school I just began working in today is the polar opposite of the above mentioned school. It is public. It is in the inner city. Instead of a forest, it is surrounded by tenement buildings and lots of litter. Instead of a natural playing space, there is a large, cracked asphalt square, fenced in by a broken, rusted chain-link fence. Yes, there are exceptional teachers here too, but many are exhausted and burned out. Their class sizes are more than double that of the above mentioned school. There is a very devoted staff, but no money to
implement any programs. There are caring parents, but most of them are single moms who work 2-3 jobs just to pay the rent. And there are the children: delightful and engaging, just like the private school children, but they are colder and hungrier. They come to school without winter jackets and are grateful to eat the free breakfast provided by the school. They all walk home, most all alone, even at six and seven years old. Many go home to an empty apartment, where they will stay alone, until their mom comes home at 6pm. I love this school just as much, if not more.
It's just really interesting to go from one to the other. I wish so much that the kids in this particular public school could have the same advantages the children in the other school have. I always wonder what their futures would be like if they had the same chances. Today, when I arrived, one of the teachers I know well asked if I had any second-hand coats that my daughter wasn't wearing anymore. She had several children in her class with no winter coats. She had already bought a few at the salvation army, but there is a never-ending need at this school. It breaks my heart.
Today, my new students were just as excited to learn as the students in my last school. The only difference is that more than half of them came up to me afterwards to thank me for teaching them. " Yo, you're a good teacher, yo!" I heard from Javier in a very much 'outdoor' voice, " Thanks for
comin' here!" And then a shy Vietnamese girl shakes my sleeve, " I want say thank you. I like."
Lots of thank
yous. And it's not that the private school children are not thankful. I know they are, but they are used to getting their needs met (as it should be!) It is not a rare thing for them. With these other kids, getting attention, praise and positive feedback is not something they often get. Their moms are busy making ends meet. Their teachers are bogged down by over-enrollment. So, they are grateful for every little bit they get. And they let me know.
Today I just want to express my gratitude to God for giving me these two experiences back to back. The disparity is jarring, but I'm glad I have eyes to see it and can try to lessen it. Tomorrow I will go back to the school with secondhand coats, and books, and hats and gloves. It will level the playing field a bit. It won't solve the problem of poverty that never goes away, but it will make a tiny dent in a few lives.
Please be on the lookout in your own communities for those who currently 'have-
not'. They are, but for the grace of God, you and me. They love their children and want good things for them, but they are often working many jobs at minimum wage. It doesn't leave much room for even essentials. They dream of better lives, like we do, but they don't often have the means to make them come true. They are our brothers and sisters. We need to keep our eyes open to their needs. We are God's hands and feet. How lucky we are when we get the chance to share our wealth with others. (And, yes, 'wealth' is a relative term.) The fact that we have anything to give is a testament to our being blessed. We are blessed!
