We sat side-by-side at a small table in a corner of her
special education classroom. It was
Monday morning and neither of us was quite awake and ready for the long week
ahead.
As usual, we started by drawing simple shapes, to improve
her hand control, and she copied my example in a step-by-step fashion. One of her drawings started out looking like
a house, turned into a little church, and that's when it all began.
"Had to go to church with my mom yesterday," she
grumbled, "thought we'd never get
back home."
"I went to church, too," I replied, "I get to see all my friends
at church."
She widened her eyes and stared at me like I had just
dropped into her classroom from somewhere far away. Silent, pondering this for a moment, she then
asked, "You go to a white
church?"
Oh, I've gone and done it now, I thought. It's only Monday and I'm already deep
into treacherous waters at work because
I'm sitting here discussing faith and
race--with a student.
But, her question was yet unanswered so I said, "Well,
it's mostly people who look like me but there are lots of people who
don't." Since she was young, a
first grader, I didn't elaborate on the names of the countries my friends first
called home--Burundi ,
Cuba , South
Sudan , Honduras ,
Serbia , Nepal .
She left the subject and returned to her
drawing, probably needing time to sort through this new thought, that this boring,
vanilla lady who worked with her every Monday spent Sunday mornings--and
Christmas Eve--with people who didn't look exactly like her.
When I went to work for Richmond Public Schools in the
late 1970's I was thankful to experience the ease in which teachers who didn't
always look like me incorporated their faith into the classrooms. One lunchtime I positioned a spoon in my
student's hand prior to working with him on self-feeding. His teacher, Ms. Ford, told me in a clear,
directive voice, "Our class waits to pray before lunch." Yes Ma'm. She thoroughly knew all her students, their
families and their faith backgrounds; prayer before meals was non-debatable.
At the Friends Association in Creighton
Court I often joined a special education class of
preschoolers during their morning circle time.
One September day I lifted my student from her wheelchair and seated her
in the circle of my legs on the carpet, so she could be closer to her friends
and to help her clap along to the songs we'd soon sing. Her teacher, Ms. Barry, whispered to me,
"If you'd like to join us, we pray for the Lord to help us with our
day." My hands were busy supporting
my student so, with every eye closed, I settled for wiping my tears away on
both sleeves.
Josiah and I had a weekly appointment on the therapy mat at Amelia
Street School . His grandma knew that he would probably never
talk or pick up his own cup, but she wanted his body to stay as straight as
possible and not be bound up more and more by the spasticity that constrained
his movement. We practiced simple skills--using
his "better" arm to touch a switch for music to begin, lifting his
head against gravity to see the pictures in a propped book.
One chilly day I talked to him about a whole bunch of things
as we worked together. Other students
and staff walked in and out of our room, yet we had many moments when there was
just the two of us. Chatting away I
said, "Hey Josiah, do you know what holiday is coming up next?" He nodded.
I asked, "Is it Thanksgiving?"
He shook his head, "No."
"Is it St. Patrick's Day?" I teased. Another "No." "Is it...Christmas?" I queried.
Josiah's face became animated and he vigorously shook his
head up and down--"Yes!"
I laughed and said, "You're right, Christmas is coming." Then I realized, I can ask him this question
because his grandma had spoken in Josiah's yearly meetings about her faith and
trust in God, so I asked, "Josiah, do you know Jesus?"
I quietly said to him, " So do I." And then we started to sing.
Folks hurrying down the long school hallway probably thought
the faint notes coming from our room were just from a therapist using music to
motivate a student to work hard. But in
that room, in a public school in Richmond , Virginia ,
one voice and two hearts were practicing for their parts in the heavenly choir,
agreeing that, "...all is calm, all is bright."
2002 Photo by F.N.S. |