The girl with no name

Playing is a natural thing for children. They are designed to wonder, imagine, create and dream. While I agree that teaching students math and science is absolutely necessary, when delivered in the traditional classroom setting, I feel like it almost goes against what young minds are programmed to do. Watching them play, I can watch the natural lessons of life unfold and be received with greater inquiry, deep thought, and attention that I’ve seen in the classroom to date. Watching them play is watching them discover the world at their fingertips. It’s an amazing thing to be a part of.

Although we were assigned to follow one child, I realized quickly that one; I would be limiting myself to the intricate play of only the “chosen one” and essentially missing out on other children’s life learning experiences, and two;  children tend to navigate toward the activities that they are passionate about and are good at. While I didn’t want to limit myself to one child, I didn’t want to limit myself to one activity either. So I will begin with a discussion of the child that I chose at NPS, but would also like to include experiences of other children at both placements that I found to be notable.

Maria/Katy is a tiny girl…smaller than any other girl on the blacktop this summer. She is quiet and shy, and always has her hair hanging in her face. While her registration sheet says Maria, she calls herself Katy, and the rest of the students follow her lead. I first met Maria/Katy when she was brought into the office to call her parents because she had wet herself. It didn’t seem to bother her a great deal, and her parents didn’t answer the phone, so I waited a little while wither while her pants dried and sent her back outside to play. During the time we sat together, she never made eye contact and spoke very softly while staring out in to space. Every question I asked her (including how old she was) seemed to baffle her, and she was cautious about the way she responded to me. It didn’t seem to occur to her that her answers and stories often contradicted what she had said previously. Over the next few days, I kept an eye on Maria/Katy closely, and watched her navigate the social scene at Abington. Most of the time, she kept to herself, and often engaged in parallel play with the other girls. During the second week, there was a massive storm brewing over Newark, and the temperature dropped down into the low 60’s. She arrived in a short skirt and tank top, and was immediately freezing. We were able to provide her a sweatshirt for the day, but it made me wonder about the care she was receiving at home. Why does this tiny, young girl not have a definitive name in this program? Why is she so hesitant to answer questions about who she is and where she’s from? Why is her hair always hanging over her eyes so no one can see her pretty, vulnerable face? These questions plagued me during my final week, and will continue to plague me in the future. I hope to see Maria/Katy again in my journey as a teacher. She made me realize how intricate and important our roles are in a young child’s life. If Maria/Katy was in my classroom, I would seek out answers to all my previous questions.  I would become someone that she could trust and depend on. I would guide her to overcome whatever obstacles she was facing at home, and help her to navigate a positive path for herself. But the very first thing I would do, is brush her short hair back off of her face, and give her a brighter, clearer view of the road before her.

On a trip to the Newark Bears game in Newark, there was an 8 year old, very quiet girl named Delia. She didn’t partake in the craziness on the bus, and followed every direction that I and the other counselors gave. She was pleasant the entire game and was enthused when they announced face painting on the upper deck. I took the children that wanted to go, including her, and just as she became next in line, and the last of the group to go, they shut down the booth.  I was devastated. But she smiled and said it was okay. Later, after the game, the ball players were coming to sign autographs, and were swarmed by ecstatic children, Delia being one of them. Long story short, she was unable to get an autograph, and the disappointment on her face hurt. Despite these injustices, as we were walking to get on the bus, she took my hand, and said “This was the best day of my life”. Her ability to find the good when many kids would have focused on the negatives made me realize how important and magnificent this day was for her. Once the kids were loaded on the bus, and we were waiting for the other camp to come out and board, I ran back to the stadium, grabbed a ticket stub, and scribbled a name on it. I brought it back to her and told her that I ran into one of the players on the way out and got an autograph for her. Whether it was the right thing to do or not, I don’t know. But, her positivity and appreciation for what she had is something I will always remember about her and that day. I wanted to give her something to remember the day as well.

On another day at NPS, the (what seem to be) popular girls were horsing around, showing off dancing and talking smack to each other. Whenever I watch them I wonder where they get some of the stuff they say from…television? Parenting? Either way, in my mind, they gained the personas of “tough girls”…the girls that I remember from school that no one wanted to mess with, but everyone wanted to be close to. They laughed and giggled and tossed their hair around while the other girls pretended not to watch. And then one day one of them fell. She hurt herself pretty badly and was crying hard. I walked over to her and pulled her aside where I was able to ice her wound and calm her down. We chatted for awhile about school and home and dance, and when she felt better she got up, began walking away, and came back to give me a hug. She said that I reminded her of her mother when she was still alive. She said “she always took care of me like you did”. Despite the tough girl attitude and the cool girl façade, deep down she was still a baby that wanted her mom…even typing this I am tearing up. Sure, sometimes these kids need academics and teachers, but others they simply need a mom…someone to make them feel safe and taken care of. That is just as important as learning their ABC’s and 123’s. Without that feeling of being loved, those other pieces will never flourish to their full potential.

When I think about my time at Abington Avenue School and La Casa de Don Pedro this summer, I am reminded of Randall Pinkett, the keynote speaker at the Counselor orientation. He said that “What happens after school, matters”. What I learned in my experience is that what happens outside of the classroom fuels what happens inside the classroom. The life lessons we learn and the people that we model ourselves after will significantly impact who we become in life. To be trailblazing and successful educators, we must not only know how to teach the materials that are given to us, but how to teach kids to continue their learning outside of the traditional classroom. Whether it be through play, field trips, or even simple conversations, children need a variety of opportunity to learn and grow. As future educators, it is out task to provide those opportunities, and ensure that every child takes them.