Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [54]
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