I watched a movie, “Beyond the Blackboard,” several weeks ago.  I was struck by how many scenes from the movie compared to my first teaching assignment.  The story took place in Salt Lake City, Utah in a homeless center created in an abandoned industrial factory using trailers as home sites.  What bothers me the most is that the elected officials of the United States place education at the bottom of all annual budgets.  The movie was made in 2011, and in ten years, we haven’t improved our schools to any great extent, not withstanding the damage that virtual learning has created in the pandemic.

My first teaching position was at the Harlan Elementary School in Wilmington, Delaware, a school with a 99% Black student population brought on by the White flight in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s.  In previous years, the school was touted as one of the finest White schools in the city until racial violence became an issue for the community.  The previous music teacher had taught for forty years in the same school, building an Orff musical instrument orchestra as the most important element of her teaching.  I was told by the principal that she had lost control of her classes, the students hated Orff music, and I would have to build a new program to meet the needs of the Black student population.

Strangely to me a newly graduated White teacher, both the Black principal and the White music supervisor asked me if I saw color in my students, to which I responded, “I see students.”  The principal witnessed my response to four Black kindergarten children pull me down by my arms to their level and pat my blonde hair on my first day.  I put my arms around them and said, “I’m your new music teacher.”  The music supervisor witnessed how I taught a fifth grade class with a combination of Orff instruments and soul music, and he laughed out loud when I started dancing with my students.  I couldn’t dance like them, but we shed the darkness of racism by just having plain fun.  All any child needs is acceptance of who they are, unconditional love regardless of their family backgrounds, and the positive knowledge that they can learn just like other children from more affluent communities.

I had the chance to witness the living conditions of many of my students.  They came from families where domestic violence was a part of their lives; some slept in bath tubs because there wasn’t a bed for them.  Most of their clothing was tattered, and many came to school having not bathed for several days.  In families where their grandparents were raising the children,  the children’s behaviors were better, but the children were extremely distrustful of anyone trying to help them.  Many of their parents were in prison for violent acts and drugs.  Some students lived on the streets with no supervision at all.

The No Name School, as the school in the movie was called, lacked basic supplies, desks, books, and absolutely no arts and craft things.  Stacey, a first year teacher, was the fourth teacher in a steady stream of teachers who could not teach in these conditions.  She was tasked with teaching first through sixth grade students, committed to building respect with students and parents while eliminating their fears, disciplining by herself students who would possibly go to juvenile detention centers, and dealing with unsanitary conditions of the room she was to teach in at the abandoned factory site, with truancy issues, with robbery of equipment, and with domestic violence issues of the parents.  As with many teachers today, she also used her own meager salary to buy supplies, food, and clothing for her students.  Like the “raw stories” some of my students told me, Stacey tried not to be flustered by their truths and to carefully listen to their problems.

Stacey soon learned that her students needed a safe, quiet, and clean learning environment just to be able to concentrate.  It was as though her classroom was another “throw-away place” for children that even school officials failed to help and acknowledge their needs.  After she painted her classroom, an elderly artist volunteered to teach art to the students, an old spinet piano was donated by the superintendent, a chalkboard and desks arrived, and the students started to believe they were no longer numbers but real people of value that the world cared about.  Seeing that one of her students had been abandoned by her father in her trailer home, Stacey volunteered to care for the fifth grader in her own home.  She realized that part of the problem with homeless parents is that society judges them as unfit to care for themselves as well as their children.  She began to guide the parents by saying their kids would have better lives when they changed their own habits.  She offered reading, writing, and math classes to anyone who wanted tutoring.

When a child feels safe in an unconditionally loving environment, they will positively respond.  Going beyond her one-year contract, Stacey offered summer school activities away from the confines of the industrial park; her husband volunteered to coach softball.  Even her new pregnancy did not stop Stacey from continuing to nurture her students.  One of the biggest issues with homeless children is their lack of trust.  Once they learn the importance of being trust worthy, they can move onto more character building traits.  Stacey made sure that music was a big part of her student’s lives.  When she found that one of the mothers could play the piano, the students learned “This Little Light of Mine” to remind them of their ability to keep the darkness of the world out of their lives.

While I’m not sure I’ve had any influence on political issues, I am sure that I have had an impact on my students.  Stacey, on the other hand, helped the MCKinney-Vento Homeless Act to become law; it ensures the right of homeless children to an education.  In her area, a new school was built for homeless students a year later.  She was awarded the National Jefferson Award for Greatest Public Service by an Individual (35 years or under).  She continues to do community service and is an educational speaker around the country.  One thing is certain; every American’s ability to make the education of our children paramount in the minds of our elected officials is absolutely necessary for our nation to survive and for our children to become successful contributors to our society.  Without this no-compromise standard, the United States will continue to be 35th in the world for educating our children.

God’s Children

Let all the city walls be broken down.

Be the candle in the window that defeats the darkness.

The Good Shepherd finds shelter for His lost sheep.

Love can reach into the smallest “No Name School” room.

Hope rises in the faces of God’s children, America’s children.

Anna Hartt