The newly minted fourth-graders looked expectently at Mary Pat and me as we introduced ourselves during the first week of school. Twenty nine-year-olds commencing a new school year in a brand new school. They had heard rumors that grade four was special, even beyond the thrill of attending a just-built elementary school.
"Good morning, boys and girls. My name is Mary Pat and this is my friend, Mary. Two Marys. Perhaps you've heard that something special happens here at Oasis during the fourth grade. Well, Mary and I work in a company called Windermere and we adopt all the the fourth-grade classes each year. We'll be coming out to visit you throughout the year to do special things and have fun."
The small sea of serious faces relaxes a bit. A smiling girl shyly beckons me over. Martha has brought in a photo book of picures taken during last year's visits to her older sister's class. She giggles when pointing out one of herself dressed for Halloween. She knew we were coming today and brought the album to school.
During today's first-days-of-school visit, we let the children choose a colored pencil box filled with writing and drawing tools. Every single child quietly says thank you. I feel absurdedly touched by the small display of good manners and want to hug each of them. The gaudily-colored ruler is the unequivocal winner. The boys immediately start dueling.
While the kids inspect the cache of goodies and Mary Pat individualizes each pencil box, we ask them to fill out a questionnaire about their families, favorite sports and hobbies, and what makes them speical. Josh writes that he is special because he is respectful. Hugo says that he is special because he is in school. Ana says she is special because her family loves her.
I begin taking individual photos to share with my colleagues back at the office.
Because we're still strangers, it's difficult to coax a smile during the awkward mug-shot photo shoot. We'll attach each child's photo to the description and display them back at the La Quinta Windermere office for everyone to read.
As I watch the children deliberate on their answers, I think about earlier visits to Oasis Elementary and other fourth-grade classes whose year we shared. Because of the recent population growth in the Coachella Valley, the school boasts a multi-class roster for each grade and we adopt three fourth-grade classes, interacting with over 60 students each year.
Mary Pat Anderson spearheaded the effort among her fellow La Quinta Realtors three years ago to take on the Oasis school kids as an ongoing project. Windermere agents now routinely collect donations during weekly staff meetings and visit the school each quarter to oversee crafts, share a snack and story, and have some fun with the kids.
The children relish the seasonal visits and although the small gifts—pencil boxes to embellished visors–seem insignificant in a world awash in stuff, to the students at this particular school, they are anything but. Thermal is only ten miles south of La Quinta but a world apart from its ritzy, country-club neighbor. The road there is lined with palm trees and fruit orchards and it is primarily the children of the families who pick the fruit that attend Oasis Elementary. The school is 97% Hispanic and almost all take advantage of the free or discounted lunch program. Most live in ramshackle trailor parks with their extended famillies.
When I made my first Christmas foray to the school, I was shocked to read some of the sobering letters-to-Santa posted on the administration office wall. Kids wrote about wanting sweaters for their siblings, wishing that a parent would get well, hoping that a family would be reunited. None asked Santa Claus for anything themselves. When we presented the classes with the biggest gifts of the year—soccer balls, gift boxes filled with Barbies and Hot Wheels—I noticed that many of the children carefully set them aside unwrapped. When queried, small voices replied that they were going to give the gifts to their mom or dad for Christmas.
Whenever I make the journey south through the dusty fields and shabby businesses, I'm vividily reminded of the tremendous odds these children face, how much the proverbial deck is stacked against them. I am heartened that they are afforded the ultimate gift of education—the American leveler—and fervently hope that each earnest nine-year-old will prevail and succeed.
During a charity event last year to raise money for school uniforms, Principal Elizabeth Ramirez, an inspiring, energetic spokesman, spoke lovingly of her kids and animatedly described the ongoing success stories she's wintnessed among the graduates. Her face lights up when she describes former students accosting her: "Mrs. Ramirez. do you remember me? I'm now a medical tech." "Mrs. Ramirez. I'm a teacher now just like you." It was she who was instrumental in pursuing the construction of a new school instead of shoring up the dilapidated school built in the late 1800s.
My initial visit to Oasis was to this historic building located further down Avenue 76. Most of the classrooms were jacked-up modular units with flimsy floors and walls. Because the water fountains bore traces of arsenic, the children drank from bottled water. The entire campus was forlorn and dispiriting. I would look around and paste a smile on my face before entering a classroom.
Ramirez's single-minded tenacity with the school district ultimately paid off handsomely earlier this year. The grand unveiling of the sprawling campus revealed richly-painted clusters of classrooms on 20 acres for future expansion. It's all very impressive and it's not a stretch to imagine how profound such an academic environment makes in a child's life. I remember being the very first third-grade class in my newly-built grammar school and reveling in the newness of everything from books to desks.
When I meet the children—Marielle, Ramon, Edgar, Eduardo, Isabel, Martha,
Jesus, Lourdes—and see the youthful, fearless faces, I fervently root for their success.
Even in spanking new classrooms, the state's current budget constrictions are keenly felt and we are now adding reams of printer paper to augment the teachers' carefully rationed supplies. Mary Pat has become especially adept at ferreting out supply-store bargains!
Our first visit of the year comes to a satisfactory end. The children, all shyness jettisoned, emit lusty good-byes. During our next visit, I'll remember some of their names. Perhaps some of them will remember mine.
Comments(0)