blog #6

For the past couple of weeks I have been making the half an hour driving to the Millbrook Elementary School, to help out with the refugee youth program. Each day it is something different. All the children I work with are the elementary school age, so from first grade to fifth grade, and they are all Meshketian Turks. They are all brothers and sisters or neighbors. Some days it can get out of control with the drop kicks and slapping and remembering how to explain fractions let alone remember the fundamentals. Whether it is patience, caring, fractions, and even some Russian, I always leave with more than I came with.
On Monday, I wasn’t ready for the three hours that I would be spending sitting in a tiny chair meant for a first grader at the Millbrook School. I had finals to study for, and cultural events to attend, and papers to write. But when I got there it was worth it. Although the little boys were all ready pumping themselves full of sugar having orange soda chugging contests, and staining the fifty states carpet, their sly grins when they saw me walk in made me realize that today was not a day to not be prepared. They are really smart kids but the language differences makes spelling and math homework that much harder. But once we got through the homework, and the mayhem of twister with all siblings started, I took my usual place drawing with those who could be calmed. On boy, who distinctly stated, “I’m a poet”, went on to draw a picture entitled rabbit boat and I was stirring the ship. But the day became worthwhile when at the end, “to- Ms. Louisa” was stamped on it in perfect spelling.
After reading the poems from last class and the idea of race and the idea that we are the same on the inside and that we can keep our unique cultural differences but still be together as one, it made me realize how important this program is to these kids. Children can be so cruel and they show it in the way they treat some of these children. They speak differently and not as well. They don’t have as many of the opportunities but watching them interact they are no different then my sisters and me. They would rather play and draw than do their work. They fight and they are so compassionate and sweet. They are the same as every other kid that I have ever met. But just as in the poem “Queens, 1963” by Julia Alvarez, her neighbors are all separated by their unique backgrounds instead of it uniting them.
This is an experience that has given me so much and it helps me relate to so many of the works that we have been studying this year. It teaches you the power of the individual. These children are always full of life no matter what situations they have been put through. Everyday is a new experience and a new lesson. Just like the poem “Theme for English B”, I realized that although I am teaching them something about English, fractions, and the American culture, they are able to teach me so much more able life and what is important in it.