Some Friday mornings find me standing over a copy machine in one of my daughter's public elementary schools helping prepare things for her teacher. It's a habit I began last year, and I enjoy the opportunity it gives me to connect with and support a place and people I've grown to love. This year there's a new poster over the copy machine and it struck me with its simple profundity. I recognize a few faces in the collage of pictures -- children of teachers on the campus -- some attending school within the same walls, others off to high school and college and families of their own. But underneath there's one simple question: "Is it good enough for them...." And I picture a weary teacher standing in front of the copy machine, dealing with the paper shortages and paper jams, minor frustrations piled on top of the bigger ones that come with this job. She looks up and sees her own smiling children and she asks herself, "Is what I'm doing good enough for them?" That is a high standard. A higher standard than any state-mandate or district directive or curriculum goal. Asking a mother or a father if something is "good enough" for their children immediately raises the bar. No outsider is setting this bar for my daughter's school. It's being set by the teachers and campus administration. It's a concrete reminder that our local schools are full of committed professionals doing the absolute best they can with the resources and constraints they have to educate the children entrusted to them according to the basic tenants of the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have done unto your very own children.
And I wonder what it might look like for our whole community to look at our public schools alongside a picture of our own children and ask: "Is it good enough for them?" Because some of us have the resources and the privilege of choosing differently, we answer that question no and can enroll our kids in private schools or choose to home school. Some of us have no real skin in the game, with kids who are grown and settled in other places, so we leave the question to the younger people. // Continued in comments.
Every morning she eats a bowl of multigrain cheerios. See those two pony tail holders on her wrist? She wears them every day - just in case she needs one. But for months now she’s only used one purple scrunchie, a gift from her cousin Haven, to fix her hair in the same ponytail every day. Last year she came home from school every day and ate a piece of Nutella toast and drank a glass of milk. She walked in today and asked for the same snack after not eating it all summer. As she ate she told me about the day - which earned a 10 on a scale of 1-10 for greatness. She talked about the new little Chinese girl and how she was shy and didn’t talk much and how other kids were worried about her and convinced Cora to reach out since she “knows a lot about China.” Cora said the little girl wouldn’t talk to her either but was really surprised when Cora said ‘ni hao.’ She told me about how her homeroom teacher is super fun but really serious too. She talked about the other new kids and how glad she is that she’s not new and how the girl with the really hard to pronounce first name said to call her Nicki. Also, she’s glad we didn’t order school supplies in a box because then she wouldn’t have been able to pick out her zipper binder. She talked about lunch and where she sat and how she can’t wait to see her bus driver tomorrow. And as she wiped chocolate from her face, she smiled and said, “Now it really feels like school has started.” And I found myself thankful for Nutella on toast traditions and after school counter talks and for these days when she’s still so easily letting me into her world.
