The First Day
Nooze began her Kindergarten adventure on Friday. Thanks to Ernesto or Eduardo or El Cid (or whatever), school started two hours late.
It was an adventure, to be sure. There were little kids EVERYWHERE. Some kids were with adults, some were not. Some of the children looked far too young to be in school at all. Since my daughter is an Amazon in training, I sometimes forget what average height really means.
Chachi and I waited in the Multi Purpose Room (also the Gym and the 'theatre') until the bell rang. We were also able to walk Nooze to her class. It was nice to have that opportunity.
As we were leaving to head for class, the little boy in front of me stumbled. He was just a little thing, and his arms were full. Since he was clearly in kindergarten as well, I looked around for his mom/dad in case they were separated. I found no one. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he needed help. He turned, fear in his eyes. He wasn't just alone on his first day of kindergarten. This poor child spoke no English!
We live in a poorer community, and have a high Migrant population. I had no doubt that his parents had no choice but to drop him off on his first day of school. Although I minored in Spanish in college, I haven't really used it since graduating. Instead, I switched into my comfort zone: Mom.
I smiled at him, reaching out my hands. He looked up, relieved, and handed his bags to me. I asked where his class was. He didn't answer, but walked resolutely toward the kindergarten wing.
Behind me, I could hear Nooze asking Chachi a question. I smiled when I realized that she thought I knew the boy. Chachi told her that we were simply helping this boy, and we would go to her class together after he was settled.
I walked with the boy into his class, and was thankful that he knew exactly where it was. Then it hit me: I was in a classroom with a child I had just met - who didn't speak English - and I was holding his stuff.
I had no choice but to tell the truth. I walked up to the teacher and said "I have no idea what his name is. Here are his supplies." Then I realized how callous that sounded. I couldn't really take it back, and had no idea how to fix it.
Thankfully, the teacher knew him. Her eyes lit up with kindness; she smiled. He smiled shyly as she greeted him. By name. I was relieved that he would be safe - and happy - in his new surroundings.
The teacher turned to me, smiling. I handed over the packages, which I saw to be snacks, a nap mat, and school supplies. She grinned - then said "Arturo, your mom is a dream! Look at all of the things she sent! Your mom is such a wonderful person!"
She hadn't heard my confession. She thought I was his mother.
I had all I could do not to be myself at that moment. In my head, The Roundtable was convening, and the Snarkfest was in session. Yeah, comedian one said. In our family, NONE of us look alike. None of us speak the same language, either. Comedian #2 stepped up to the plate: His father speaks Russian; his sister speaks German! In the background, Marge Schott sat, smoking and swearing under her breath.
I fought off the Roundtable, determined not to ruin the first day of this beautiful little boy. So I smiled. I also agreed - out loud - that Arturo was indeed blessed with a pretty cool mom. I ruffled his hair and wished him luck. Then I walked out.
I walked into the hallway and joined my family, thankful for the blessing of sharing Nooze's first day.
It was an adventure, to be sure. There were little kids EVERYWHERE. Some kids were with adults, some were not. Some of the children looked far too young to be in school at all. Since my daughter is an Amazon in training, I sometimes forget what average height really means.
Chachi and I waited in the Multi Purpose Room (also the Gym and the 'theatre') until the bell rang. We were also able to walk Nooze to her class. It was nice to have that opportunity.
As we were leaving to head for class, the little boy in front of me stumbled. He was just a little thing, and his arms were full. Since he was clearly in kindergarten as well, I looked around for his mom/dad in case they were separated. I found no one. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he needed help. He turned, fear in his eyes. He wasn't just alone on his first day of kindergarten. This poor child spoke no English!
We live in a poorer community, and have a high Migrant population. I had no doubt that his parents had no choice but to drop him off on his first day of school. Although I minored in Spanish in college, I haven't really used it since graduating. Instead, I switched into my comfort zone: Mom.
I smiled at him, reaching out my hands. He looked up, relieved, and handed his bags to me. I asked where his class was. He didn't answer, but walked resolutely toward the kindergarten wing.
Behind me, I could hear Nooze asking Chachi a question. I smiled when I realized that she thought I knew the boy. Chachi told her that we were simply helping this boy, and we would go to her class together after he was settled.
I walked with the boy into his class, and was thankful that he knew exactly where it was. Then it hit me: I was in a classroom with a child I had just met - who didn't speak English - and I was holding his stuff.
I had no choice but to tell the truth. I walked up to the teacher and said "I have no idea what his name is. Here are his supplies." Then I realized how callous that sounded. I couldn't really take it back, and had no idea how to fix it.
Thankfully, the teacher knew him. Her eyes lit up with kindness; she smiled. He smiled shyly as she greeted him. By name. I was relieved that he would be safe - and happy - in his new surroundings.
The teacher turned to me, smiling. I handed over the packages, which I saw to be snacks, a nap mat, and school supplies. She grinned - then said "Arturo, your mom is a dream! Look at all of the things she sent! Your mom is such a wonderful person!"
She hadn't heard my confession. She thought I was his mother.
I had all I could do not to be myself at that moment. In my head, The Roundtable was convening, and the Snarkfest was in session. Yeah, comedian one said. In our family, NONE of us look alike. None of us speak the same language, either. Comedian #2 stepped up to the plate: His father speaks Russian; his sister speaks German! In the background, Marge Schott sat, smoking and swearing under her breath.
I fought off the Roundtable, determined not to ruin the first day of this beautiful little boy. So I smiled. I also agreed - out loud - that Arturo was indeed blessed with a pretty cool mom. I ruffled his hair and wished him luck. Then I walked out.
I walked into the hallway and joined my family, thankful for the blessing of sharing Nooze's first day.
posted by rennratt at 6:34 PM
9 Comments:
Oh, Jesus. What a beautiful story.
How is it that they always seem to ignore moms when asking about illegal immegration? Who better to answer for the children?
... How is it that they always seem to ignore moms, period?
That sounds like where I used to live in Carrboro, RR.
Kingfisher is a smartass.
Kingfisher can be a callous bastard.
Kingfisher loves children.
This made Kingfisher's eyes moist.
Kingfisher thinks rennratt is a great person.
Kom- I don't know that Arturo was illegal. I DO know that he was incredibly brave to be in a strange place by himself. I also know, as a mom, how awful his mom must have felt to send him off on his own. I am glad that I had the opportunity to take him to his class, and I hope the teacher assures his mom that Arturo did just fine on his first day.
Utenzi - I live in farmland heaven. If it wasn't for the migrant workers, we would have no chicken farms, no hog farms, no tobacco farms, no cotton farms, no strawberry/blueberry/black berry farms, no soy farms - you get the picture.
KF- RR simply reacted as a Momma. I would hope, when we finally move to Tahiti, that the Tahitians treat my Nooze in the same manner.
You earned some treasures up in Heaven when you did that. I cannot fathom how scared he must have been in a place where he didn't understand anyone.
rennratt made all this up, y'all. it's the first step in her plan for world domination. First we think she's great, then she tells us to send her money.
I can see it coming a mile off.
And if it's not, then she really is a great person for being so darned kind and nice and "mom-ish."
It IS such a blessing to be able to share that time with your children. Since we had "open house" 2 days before school started, we met the teacher early, and Hannah wanted to ride the bus, so I didn't get the chance to be with her at school.
BTW - regarding your scrapping comment on my blog - I've been scrapping for nearly 8 years. I have 4 albums completed, but only one is "in order"...the others all have my work in them, that's it. I love to scrap, I design for an online site, too! You can see some of my work at my scrap blog: http://ivegotscrappersblock.blogspot.com
What a great story. I'm so glad you were there for little Arturo -- things like this move me to tears.
My mom never took us to school for our first day. But of course, I probably didn't want her to, either. I can't imagine how frightening it would be to be stuck in a strange place at that age and not know the language. I have a hard enough time managing when everyone around me knows English!
Post a Comment
<< Home