One Child at a Time
The door opened, and the new teacher
stepped into the classroom, focusing on the class of twenty-two third graders
sitting upright, rigid and unblinking.
She searched their faces for the anticipation and interest that would
help them fall in love with her new ideas, her well-thought out lessons, and
her kind heart, captured in her soft smile. At least that is what she hoped
for. The new teacher sensed an
uneasiness in the children, a strangeness.
“Of course, they are uneasy,” she thought. “Everything is about to change."
Before she could dwell much longer on the peculiar behavior of the children, the door opened again. This time the principal, Ms. James, entered quickly, moving to the front of the room and bumping the new teacher ever so slightly with her bulging hips. The new teacher’s cheeks grew hot and pink, and the children, unlike Ms. James, felt her discomfort.
“Good morning, children.”
“Good morning, Ms. James,” the children chorused as they welcomed the end of the awkward moment.
“This is Ms. Thomas, your new teacher. Please show her how happy you are that she is here.”
“Welcome to our class, Ms. Thomas,” they said without a single voice out of sync.
“My,” started Ms. Thomas, “I think you must have practiced that greeting a great deal! You said it perfectly together!”
She smiled, eyes sparkling and full of life as the thought of giving them her very best lessons in math and art and history and language and science washed over her and made her reel with excitement. This was the day for which she had waited her whole life, the day that she would have her own classroom, her own students, and a chance to share the knowledge she had ferreted away just for them.
“I am so very happy to be your teacher,” she bubbled. “I have so many things I want to teach you! Do any of you have any questions before we start our day?”
A deafening silence blanketed the room as the students stared back at the new teacher. Ms. Thomas smiled her nervous smile then glanced at Ms. James. Ms. James simply stood and stared at the children as if to signal that no questions would be necessary. Still, one small hand at the back of the room slowly appeared among the group.
“Yes - um - I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” Ms. Thomas said.
“I - my name - that is - My name is Lucy, and I’m new, too,” the tiny voice spoke. It suited the thin, dark-skinned girl whose eyes were noticeably different from all the others.
“Wonderful! Then we will learn how everything works around here together,” Ms. Thomas said with a lilt in her tone that surprised the children.
“Yes, of course, you will,” interrupted Ms. James. “That is what happens with all new teachers and new students. Isn’t it class? They all learn how things work in our school.”
“Yes, Ms. Jones,” they said in unison.
Another hand shot into the air.
“Yes, Joshua, do you have something you’d like to say?” This time it was Ms. James who called on the student.
“Yes, Ms. James. I was wondering if we would be starting our lesson now. We are already five minutes behind, and we haven’t even said the school pledge.”
Ms. Thomas looked quizzically at Ms. James who understood and responded before the question could even be asked. “Ms. Thomas, we do not say the ‘Pledge of Allegiance’ in our school because it may offend some of our students and staff, so we only pledge our allegiance to our school. We all love our school, right boys and girls?”
“Yes, Ms. James.” All of the voices rang loud and clear, except for Lucy. She stayed fearfully quiet, as did Ms. Thomas.
“Shall we show Ms. Thomas and Lucy how we do this?” asked Ms. James.
“Yes, Ms. James.”
The children, all dressed the same and wearing the same expressionless faces, rose as one and extended their right hands toward a picture of the superintendent of schools that hung front and center on the wall above the chalkboard and recited in dreary monotone voices:
“We pledge allegiance to our school, an extension of the state and of the country in which we live, and we promise to work hard every day to learn only that which will help us pass the state exam so that every student will be equal and the same in every way so that our citizens will always be equal and the same in every way. We pledge in the name of our beloved and most honorable superintendent of our school, our global representative.”
Ms. Thomas stared in disbelief and fear. Wasn’t this the school from which she had graduated just a few short years before? Wasn’t this the school where she discovered her dream as she watched her teachers - her heroes - work their magic on their students by inviting them to shoot for the stars and then helping them build rockets to get there? Wasn’t this the school that all other schools had once held in high esteem as the one that was different and special and independent? Wasn’t this the school she had dreamed of returning to so that she could be a part of something unique and wonderful and excellent?
“Do you understand our pledge, Ms. Thomas?” asked Ms. James.
“Perfectly,” Ms. Thomas replied.
“Good. Then, I will leave you to your class.” With that, the principal with the bulging hips left the room, closing the door behind her.
Consumed in utter sadness and despair at what had just occurred and what had become of her precious alma mater, Ms. Thomas did what great teachers do; she looked for hope in the faces of the children, but all that stood before her were tiny robots with shark eyes, devoid of thought and imagination, products of collaboration and consensus and collectivism, except for one.
Lucy glowed with the beauty of difference, and Ms. Thomas knew that all hope lay in this one child, a child not yet indoctrinated by the new curriculum and the new philosophy and the new way of eating away at a nation that was founded in independence of thought and rebellion against those who wanted to control it. Ms. Thomas breathed in the Spirit of 1776 and set her sights on the Lucy’s of the world so that the way of life she had come to love would not be destroyed one child at a time.
Before she could dwell much longer on the peculiar behavior of the children, the door opened again. This time the principal, Ms. James, entered quickly, moving to the front of the room and bumping the new teacher ever so slightly with her bulging hips. The new teacher’s cheeks grew hot and pink, and the children, unlike Ms. James, felt her discomfort.
“Good morning, children.”
“Good morning, Ms. James,” the children chorused as they welcomed the end of the awkward moment.
“This is Ms. Thomas, your new teacher. Please show her how happy you are that she is here.”
“Welcome to our class, Ms. Thomas,” they said without a single voice out of sync.
“My,” started Ms. Thomas, “I think you must have practiced that greeting a great deal! You said it perfectly together!”
She smiled, eyes sparkling and full of life as the thought of giving them her very best lessons in math and art and history and language and science washed over her and made her reel with excitement. This was the day for which she had waited her whole life, the day that she would have her own classroom, her own students, and a chance to share the knowledge she had ferreted away just for them.
“I am so very happy to be your teacher,” she bubbled. “I have so many things I want to teach you! Do any of you have any questions before we start our day?”
A deafening silence blanketed the room as the students stared back at the new teacher. Ms. Thomas smiled her nervous smile then glanced at Ms. James. Ms. James simply stood and stared at the children as if to signal that no questions would be necessary. Still, one small hand at the back of the room slowly appeared among the group.
“Yes - um - I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” Ms. Thomas said.
“I - my name - that is - My name is Lucy, and I’m new, too,” the tiny voice spoke. It suited the thin, dark-skinned girl whose eyes were noticeably different from all the others.
“Wonderful! Then we will learn how everything works around here together,” Ms. Thomas said with a lilt in her tone that surprised the children.
“Yes, of course, you will,” interrupted Ms. James. “That is what happens with all new teachers and new students. Isn’t it class? They all learn how things work in our school.”
“Yes, Ms. Jones,” they said in unison.
Another hand shot into the air.
“Yes, Joshua, do you have something you’d like to say?” This time it was Ms. James who called on the student.
“Yes, Ms. James. I was wondering if we would be starting our lesson now. We are already five minutes behind, and we haven’t even said the school pledge.”
Ms. Thomas looked quizzically at Ms. James who understood and responded before the question could even be asked. “Ms. Thomas, we do not say the ‘Pledge of Allegiance’ in our school because it may offend some of our students and staff, so we only pledge our allegiance to our school. We all love our school, right boys and girls?”
“Yes, Ms. James.” All of the voices rang loud and clear, except for Lucy. She stayed fearfully quiet, as did Ms. Thomas.
“Shall we show Ms. Thomas and Lucy how we do this?” asked Ms. James.
“Yes, Ms. James.”
The children, all dressed the same and wearing the same expressionless faces, rose as one and extended their right hands toward a picture of the superintendent of schools that hung front and center on the wall above the chalkboard and recited in dreary monotone voices:
“We pledge allegiance to our school, an extension of the state and of the country in which we live, and we promise to work hard every day to learn only that which will help us pass the state exam so that every student will be equal and the same in every way so that our citizens will always be equal and the same in every way. We pledge in the name of our beloved and most honorable superintendent of our school, our global representative.”
Ms. Thomas stared in disbelief and fear. Wasn’t this the school from which she had graduated just a few short years before? Wasn’t this the school where she discovered her dream as she watched her teachers - her heroes - work their magic on their students by inviting them to shoot for the stars and then helping them build rockets to get there? Wasn’t this the school that all other schools had once held in high esteem as the one that was different and special and independent? Wasn’t this the school she had dreamed of returning to so that she could be a part of something unique and wonderful and excellent?
“Do you understand our pledge, Ms. Thomas?” asked Ms. James.
“Perfectly,” Ms. Thomas replied.
“Good. Then, I will leave you to your class.” With that, the principal with the bulging hips left the room, closing the door behind her.
Consumed in utter sadness and despair at what had just occurred and what had become of her precious alma mater, Ms. Thomas did what great teachers do; she looked for hope in the faces of the children, but all that stood before her were tiny robots with shark eyes, devoid of thought and imagination, products of collaboration and consensus and collectivism, except for one.
Lucy glowed with the beauty of difference, and Ms. Thomas knew that all hope lay in this one child, a child not yet indoctrinated by the new curriculum and the new philosophy and the new way of eating away at a nation that was founded in independence of thought and rebellion against those who wanted to control it. Ms. Thomas breathed in the Spirit of 1776 and set her sights on the Lucy’s of the world so that the way of life she had come to love would not be destroyed one child at a time.
