I love this time of the year. September is full of so many good things. The weather in the Valley cools as baseball begins to heat up, scooting aside just a bit to allow football its rightful place on the big stage. The streets and parks remain crowded as folks savor every remaining sun-splashed weekend outdoors. Suddenly jeans and a sweater seem comfortable again. Our taste buds crave apples and hot chocolate. And, of course, there is the return to school. Good times.
I spend lots of time in schools, all kinds of schools. I frequent regular classrooms, specialized classrooms and even college lecture halls. The image in your head of the college lecture hall may resemble something from The Paper Chase, but in actuality the rooms are pretty much like most other classrooms, with long tables, uncomfortable chairs and a giant screen. And no, I don't wear a corduroy blazer with patches on the elbows. I stick mostly to the aforementioned sweater and jeans. But rather than write about college kids and their many problems, I would much rather write about little kids, really little kids, and those who teach them.
I have found over the past few years that some of my best days are the ones spent in the kindergarten classrooms that I visit. Everyone has memories of their kindergarten experience. Mrs. Malos was my teacher at Paxinosa Elementary School in Easton nearly 40 years ago. I have a vague memory of her face, but distinctly remember lots about that year, even if I was only five. Playtime was fun. There were arts and crafts, and likely some academics involved at some point during the day. In general, I would have to say that kindergarten was a good thing. Mrs. Malos told my mom that I was a joy to have in class. And by joy, I think she meant someone who never stops talking and is up in everybody's business.
All kidding aside, going to school for the first time was a big deal. I didn't go to pre-school or anything like that, so kindergarten was a whole new ballgame. So was the bus ride. The ride itself was not important but lining up was. The kids, myself included, jockeyed for position in front of the fire hydrant on the corner while waiting for the bus to arrive. It seemed really necessary at the time. Oddly enough, kids do the same today. Nothing has changed in 40 years. Positioning, for whatever reason, is really important to kindergarteners. I watch them every day, running to be first in line and pushing others out of the way, only to be sent to the back of the line by their teacher. It happens every time. Kids tattle and line leaders rule the day.
“Unfortunately, the urban school population can also be rather transient, and that leaves Maria sometimes wondering who may or may not show up the next day.”
If I asked 10 people their thoughts on kindergarten, my guess is that nine would have something positive to say. Most would use words like “fun” and “happy” to describe their experiences. My wife refers to kindergarten as one of the best years of her life, and this is not likely by chance. Kindergarten, while all fun and games on the surface, is actually a well-oiled machine operated by some incredibly skilled teachers. Those with whom we entrust our children leave nothing to chance. Two of them come to mind and stand out as shining examples of teaching at its finest.
Tucked away in the basement of a local Catholic school is a kindergarten room headed by a woman named Maureen Kohler. She's been in the kindergarten business for 15 years, having done eight years of first grade as a warm-up. She initially took the kindergarten gig just to give it a try, but now wouldn't trade it for the world. Maureen, with help from her unassuming assistant, Mary Jane Velcheck, guided 35 students through a full day of kindergarten this past school year, and plans to do it all again this fall. That's right, 35 kids, one room, all day.
Maureen doesn't drink on the job, though one would understand if she did. Rather, she views herself as a realist, especially when it comes to noise, vomit and other things common to the age group in her room. Maureen sees her students through the eyes of a mother and recognizes that these little children left in her charge should feel safe in her room, far away from other stressors that may complicate their lives. Maureen teaches through play and maintains a flexibility that allows her students to learn at their own speed. She admits, however, that kindergarten is not all about academics, and though standards of achievement have been raised in recent years, Maureen pays equal attention to the development of social skills, as well. Maureen refers to herself as an “edu-carer” and not just an educator.
I had the pleasure of watching Maureen in action on many days, and the woman is simply unflappable, commanding the room without raising her voice. Her love for her students is worn on her sleeve, and her intuition is something not taught but gained through her years of experience. Regarding kindergarten Maureen states, “You have to love what you are doing.” She does. It is her purpose, and it shines brightly.
Maureen, though a seasoned educator, realizes that she is never too old to learn. Her ability to integrate technology into her room has benefited her students greatly, but one of Maureen's more memorable learning experiences came from an unlikely source, that of a child with Down syndrome. You see, Maureen worried that she would not be able to meet the little girl's needs in her classroom. In retrospect Maureen admits, “I felt like she ended up teaching us more than we taught her.” It's funny how things work out sometimes.
I hope Maureen stays at it for many years to come. She is truly an asset to her school and makes a positive impact on everyone she touches. For proof, just talk to the many students who return to visit her as the years pass, or the parents who willingly volunteer their time in her classroom to help in any way they can. It is those relationships that mean so much to Maureen.
Much like Maureen, Maria Barney has been in the business for a while, and she has done it all. And, much like Maureen, she has found a home in the kindergarten classroom. Sure, she was scared at first, and a bit intimidated by the notion of caring for such young children, but she credits her mentor for providing a solid foundation. Now she can't imagine teaching another grade.
Unlike Maureen, Maria spends her days in a public school in Bethlehem where the population is diverse and the challenges are many. Maria, a wearer of different hats, considers patience her most valuable attribute. Another valuable attribute for Maria (even though she is very Italian) is her ability to speak Spanish, a skill that comes in handy with some of her students. Unfortunately, the urban school population can also be rather transient, and that leaves Maria sometimes wondering who may or may not show up the next day. She, much like Maureen, cares deeply for the welfare of her students, and it troubles her to find them inadequately clothed or underfed.
Maria is old-school. She doesn't hide behind emails. She's not much good at writing notes either. When she has something to say, especially to a parent, she says it. It's not uncommon to find Maria on the phone with a parent during the evening, making sure everyone is up to speed with what is happening in the classroom. Maria says the personal touch ensures that no message is lost.
Maria admits that each year presents greater challenges than the prior year. She recognizes the increase in students with special needs and the amount of preparation necessary to help those children meet their goals. She also finds herself in the precarious position of teaching many students, but for only short periods of time. You see, her school employs a half-day kindergarten program, meaning that each child is there for only a few hours per day.
“Maria admits her kids are always on her mind, and no matter how much she longs for the summer break, she always looks forward to next September.”
For Maria, the days move very quickly, and for some children perhaps, too quickly. It leaves me wondering if some of her kids are missing much of what she truly has to offer. Too bad for them. Maria, though, has greater concerns for her future students, especially those who will not benefit from pre-school programs cut due to lack of funding. Many of those children, according to Maria, will lag behind their peers, and will very possibly never narrow the gap. In my opinion, Maria is right on the money. In today's world, early education is crucial for children in so many ways; shame on those who do not recognize their nearsightedness.
I didn't notice initially but later realized that Maria's classroom was different from most others. Simply put, the kids don't have a place to sit. Oh, sure, there are tables and chairs, but no one is assigned to them. Maria's teaching philosophy is a bit different from the typical approach. Rather than standing in front of the room and telling kids what to do, Maria opts to keep her students on the move. They rotate from workstation to work-station, completing tasks and utilizing every inch of the classroom. And Maria is right there with them, up to her elbows in paint, paste, snot and who knows what else. This approach, according to Maria, allows for more interaction among the children. From the interaction they learn how to work together and how to solve their own problems. Maria is compassionate and sympathetic, but she's not holding anybody's hand. The kids have to figure it out for themselves.
I met with Maria toward the end of the school year and saw a woman who was happy that the year was over, but sad that her students were gone. Maria admits her kids are always on her mind, and no matter how much she longs for the summer break, she always looks forward to next September.
There are dozens of teachers in the Valley much like Maureen and Maria, and I salute them all. I am fortunate to know these two women and felt it worthwhile to share their stories. They have helped me become a better worker. From them I have learned the importance of patience, empathy and flu shots. I commend them for their tireless efforts that often go unrecognized or without tangible reward. For Maureen and Maria, I suppose the reward comes from within. It is something intangible, something that cannot be measured, like the size of their hearts. Keep up the good work, ladies! Peace.
by vince ramunni | illustration by melissa rose
