Inside. . .
Last week I spent a day at Clare
McPhee Elementary School. I did
not know what to expect, but it
turned out to be the best day of my
entire winter break.
McPhee is an older building near
the Capitol which has more charac
ter than many newer schools. It
maintains a sort of dignity in its
permanence, observing the passage
of each succeeding group of stu
dents with the concern of a new
parent and the all-knowing seren
ity of an experienced grandparent
McPhee
Elementary
School
With a pebble-filled playground
and just noticeably dated furnish
ings, McPhee provides an air of
isolation. For students and teach
ers alike, the building provides a
haven from the rest of the world.
Each morning, McPhee welcomes
420 eager students. That eagerness
is important; the children want to
be here and thus find all the more
wonder in their discoveries.
About half of the children arrive
by bus. The rest are delivered by
parents or walk from their homes
with an innocent assuredness that
only elementary school children
know.
The students have been back
almost two weeks .since the winter
break. They are full of energy but
not out of control.
I hings are orderly at McPhee.
The schedule is tight, and the chil
dren are accompanied from class to
class. Children participate in the or
der. This involvement fosters alien
uwn anu iw an c,uuv.a
tional environment rather than an
overbearing one
My morning begins in the first
grade classroom of Teena Fauble
and Marcia Porch. On the walls are
several posters bearing the Pledge
of Allegiance and one with the
class rules.
1. L'se quiet voices. 2. Respect
others. 3 Listen and follow direc
tions.
I cannot help but think that the
world might be a better place if
more people were to follow such
rules.
The children gather in a circle
and take turns reading to the oth
ers, occasionally stumbling over a
word The entire circle giggles as
one girl reads a Shel Silverstein
poem, “The Dirtiest Man in the
World.”
I ler young voice already bears a
remarkable cadence, rising and
falling while emphasizing the
rhymes w hich describe this fellow'
who never bathes.
The next girl reads a bit more
slowly, but keeps everyone’s atten
tion Later in the morning, she sits
next to me with her friend while
they read to themselves.
Time and again, she asks how to
pronounce this or that word, and
we sound each word out and laugh
at the illustrations together When
it’s time to line up and go to
another classroom, she asks me to
tie her shoes.
“Don’t you know how?”
“Yes, but I want you to.”
These children are remarkable,
each with his or her own surprises.
One of the first grade boys is wearing
a black, Harley T-shirt. He is anx
ious to answ'er questions, and other
children come to him for help.
While helping a friend write a
letter, he jumps up and hurries to a
bookshelf, looking for a particular
story. “Okay, here it is!” he ex
claims as he returns with the book.
The misplaced word located, he
resumes work on the letter.
“You’re supposed to write on
the line,” one girl at his table chides.
The children are using thick
pencils without erasers to write to
-]
The Three Bears, who were kind
enough to respond to the class’
previous letter. They sit in groups
of four at tables little higher than
my knees, hard at work.
“Xuh-uh, it’s P-L-A-Y,” corrects
one girl.
A boy wearing Adidas hightops
a bit prematurely asks w hich way a
"q” goes. After some discussion,
the group consults a wall chart of
the alphabet.
After the children have left the
room, 1 sift through their letters,
written in shaky scrawls with hap
hazard placement of capitals on
thickly-lined paper
One tells Goldilocks that she
had no business going into the
bears’ house in the first place.
Another writes, “Dear Georg: If
Goldilocks ate your porrige then
what did you eat5”
First grade teachers must be
blessed with extraordinary patience.
They encourage, direct, keeporder
and provoke thought All the while,
dozens of youngsters clamor for
attention.
The teachers are crafty, asking
the children to show with fingers
how' many times such and such
happened in the story. That way,
everyone gels to give the answer
while chaos is carefully avoided.
One of the teachers describes
the cooperative learning and self
esteem bulding that goes on. An
individual approach is emphasized,
and the children choose their own
books.
Almost as important to learning
as self-esteem is surely a full stom
ach. The cafeteria a’ McPhee, which
doubles as a gym, is besieged by
420 students every day.
They eat in three shifts, two
grades at a time. If it gets too noisy,
the lights are dimmed until voices
are lowered. They inevitably begin
a gradual rise with the return of the
lights.
Two second graders sit across
from me. One wears her coal and
guards her plastic lunch box with
byth arms, somehow managing to
eat cheese and crackers and a fruit
wrap without lowering her guard.
She is talkative and tells me
about her classes and her family
and then asks several questions.
Her friend is quiet and mostly lis
tens, but does so very carefully.
Fvcry inflection, every gesture of
mine is noticed.
They both finish eating fairly
quickly but slay inside as long as
possible, “because it is too cold to
go out for recess."
Most of the boys hurry through
the meal and sit rigidly straight
with arms stretched toward the
basketball hoops above, waiting
lor a teacher’s verbal permission
before leaving the table and going
out to the playground.
I he older kids begin filing into
the cafeteria Budding concerns for
appearance are apparent. Thus group
dresses in layers and wears more
expensive shoes.
“What grade are you in?"
“Fourth,” three of them proudly
say in unison.
They are quick to give their
names and want to know when the
paper will be out so they can show
their parents.
“My parents won’t care if you
use my name,” each ofthem claims.
Some of these kids are decep
tively worldly, one tel ling me about
the consequences of a relative’s
unexpected pregnancy or traveling
to another state for surgery. She is
happy to have a few days off and
does not think of the pain or the
cost.
Later, the sixth graders arrive,
and traces of innocence are less
frequent. Fashion isas important to
these children as it is to university
students.
With the sixth graders come
arguments with the monitors and
the slamming of trays. There are
scattered snickers when an adult
voice is raised to demand quiet.
T-shirts from heavy metal con
certs appear, as do skirts. The boys
wear sweat pants and laugh about
very different things than do their
younger counterparts.
Most of them are busy with their
meals, but a few talk with me for
some time. Opinions of classes are
similar among those next to me.
They discuss in great detail the
travails of an English class.
“We have to read three books
every month,” one boy says.
Despite their growing maturity,
the sixth graders are anxious to get
out to the playground. They do not
“play” like the younger children --
there is a big football game which
must be finished before the next
class.
ine playground slowly nils as
the cafeteria empties. Within IS
minutes, the cafeteria has been
cleared, the tables folded up to the
wall.and the floor cleaned.
Outside, the children gather by
grade and gender. There are a
handful of loners, but most are
engaged in various games. Even
the loners are not completely iso
lated, drifting among each other
and looking comfortable in their
solitude.
Some of the games have been
play ed for years, others are unique
to this playground — playground
inventions with endlessly chang
ing rules.
The children returned to the
building class by class. 1 remained
in the empty playground and
thought about the days of my child
hood, realizing it was impossible to
cram six years’ worth of memories
into the space of a day.
4
by
Bryan
Peterson
