Sunday, August 21, 2011

PBA-Early Learning Center

People keep asking me how my first week back was. I'm sure it's crazy, they say, with all of those kinder and pre-k'ers.

And...yes, yes it is. But the craziness that they are thinking about, and the craziness that actually IS, is very different...

You see, my school is the school that all the refugees (or most, anywho)in the area, get funneled into. There are more languages spoken in my school than I can count.

And, we don't operate under the typical arrival/dismissal procedures, as 95% (give or take a little) of our students are bussed. Yes, even the 5 year olds. Even the 4 year olds. And this year, because of our large numbers (1200), and the opening of our "Early Learning Center" to accomodate such large numbers....even the 3 year olds. Yes, the 3 year olds will be bussed.

And I guess it's easy to judge a mommy who would put their three year old baby on a bus...but sometimes there just isn't any other option, cause you might not have a car, or a license, or speak english-to get either of those two things.

So yes, arrival and dismissal are the most mind-blowingly chaotic part of my day. I have had nightmares about it every day since I started. I have been to the point of tears at the end of the day...cause...these are children. And I certainly don't want to LOSE one. Especially one that doesn't speak english. And with TWENTY-ONE busses serving our school, it is definitely easy to put the wrong kid on the wrong bus. And that is terrifying.

And if that alone isn't difficult enough...there's also those kids that appear (on one of our 21 busses), that may or may not be registered, that...won't tell you their name. There they stand, those little kids, not saying a word. So, you take their backpack and search it. Hmm...you say, two custard pies from the Asian Market. You look the kid over (cause sometimes those burmese and nepali kids are difficult to tell apart), and you might see a faint hint of a yellow powder on their face. AHA-you are burmese...so off you take the child to the nearest Burmese para. And the boy still doesn't talk. So you try the Nepali para anyways, just to be sure. And still....nothing. Soooo he becomes your special friend for the day. Blink, you might call him, cause...well, that's all he does.
But you never learn his name. And if you don't know a child's name...how are you to find the right bus to put him on at the end of the day?

Or...suppose you discover, after the second day of school that 2 (or possibly 3) burmese children have all been wrongly identified-have been assigned the wrong identity. Some poor teacher heard a snippet of a name, saw something simillar on their roster, wrote the kid a name tag...and, come to find out, it wasn't that kid. The injustice of it all.

But who do you get mad at? The child? No, how silly. The teacher? How can you? The parents, for not walking him in? No...there is no one to be mad at. And as bad as it is, and as much as I want to blame someone-the administration-someone-it is no one's fault, it just sucks. And...as bad as all this mess is, the whole lot of it, no other existing school has programs in place to care for these students like Place does.

So...you out there, you should start one(a school, that is.) Cause...surely there is a better way.

In the meantime...pray I don't lose a child. And pray no one loses my babies from last year...there was already a close call with Prajawal, and that child is a dear.

No comments:

Post a Comment