“Above all, I think, these kids just want to know that someone believes in them and believes that they will achieve success.” —Gabe Smith
Gabe Smith, Member 2005–2007
When I initially accepted the position of a kindergarten/first grade literacy tutor two years ago, I was quite apprehensive, to say the least. After all, my undergraduate degree was in English Teaching, grades 7-12. Other than a few substitute teaching jobs at elementary schools in my home state of Iowa, I had little experience working with young children. The high school classrooms in which I had received my training seemed a far cry from the student population that I would soon be serving in Austin. Despite my initial nervousness, though, I was filled with excitement at the prospect of being able to work one-on-one with these young learners. This intermingled excitement and nervousness lasted throughout our initial training, when I and fellow members were taught the tutoring techniques that we would be using on our new charges in just a few short weeks. Finally, the day came when it was time to begin our work in the schools, and thus began a wonderful and fulfilling chapter in my life. But, I realize that you, reader, aren't interested in sweeping generalities about my "wonderful" and "fulfilling" experience in ACEE (though it is undoubtedly those things and more). Instead, to get an idea of what this work really entails, I will do my very best to let you step into my shoes for a moment, to experience a day as I experience it. I hope that you perceive not only the day-to-day realities of this work, but also the numerous joys that it can offer.
The hardest part of my day is, and has always been, waking up. I am not a morning person, despite the fact that I've been working in the public schools for a little over two years now. Once I've woken up (with the aid of a hot shower and breakfast), I begin to mentally plan out my day. I think about which focus children I will be working with during the first part of the school day and what their individual needs are. I know that Michael has been having trouble learning his digraphs: the sounds that sh, ch, and th make. Desmond, on the other hand, has an excellent grasp of many of the rules of print and can read almost anything I put in front of him, yet struggles with his fluency (the ability to read at a conversational rate). By the time I get to school, I will have formulated a general lesson plan in my mind, and the time before my tutoring begins allows me the chance to make sure I have my written lesson plans completed, read-aloud books picked out, and necessary supplies in order.
Michael is my first student of the day. He is a very shy first-grader, almost painfully so, and doesn't know a whole lot yet about reading. Before we begin our lesson, I always do my best to draw him out in conversation. I've discovered over the past few weeks that he enjoys playing video games (with King Kong being a favorite), and we have already done a couple of writing exercises that incorporate some video game themes. Progress with Michael is often frustratingly incremental, but it is progress nonetheless; I content myself with the knowledge that I am helping him become more sociable at school, that I am modeling conversation skills for him. This is a skill that many of our focus children lack, the ability to converse with adults.
Desmond is next. We have been working on increasing his fluency, the rate at which he reads. During each session, we read at least one familiar book (I call them "old friends"—whether this was my own idea or was unconsciously stolen from another tutor I'm not sure). When Desmond reads an "old friend," I time him on my watch and write down his mistakes. If there are repeated mistakes of a similar type, we will talk about those types of words and what to do with them when they are next encountered in print. Then comes the unveiling of the time it took him to read the book, always a thrilling moment for Desmond. The goal is for him to have read the book faster on this occasion than he did the previous time he read the book. If he has beat his previous time, we celebrate, and I write the cherished words "NEW WORLD RECORD" on his lesson plan. If he doesn't best his time, then we vow to do it during our next lesson. When I feel that Desmond has reached his peak time on a particular book, we move on to the next. I take great satisfaction in seeing Desmond's pride at his own accomplishments; the look on his face after setting a personal record is not unlike an athlete who tastes success after much hard work and training.
The day proceeds. For a period of about thirty to forty-five minutes, I help in one teacher's classroom. I monitor learning centers, help students who are struggling with tasks, and keep peace and quiet while the teacher works with small reading groups. I enjoy this part of my day, as it makes me feel more like a part of the school community. I am able to interact with other children who I don't get to see regularly. Most of them pepper me with questions that are some variation of "When are you gonna take me to learn?" Many of them promise good behavior if I will only take them next time! It is very gratifying to feel so loved by so many children.
Next I have Tianna, who squints at the words on the page because she has forgotten to bring her glasses with her to school again. Then comes Kaelyn, a chatty little girl who has made great strides over the past couple of months. Finally there is Milad, my newest focus child, whose family has just arrived in the United States from Iran. One of the most wonderful aspects of working at Walnut Creek Elementary is the diverse student population. I've had focus children who have been Caucasian, African-American, Hispanic, Pakistani, Iranian, and Sudanese. There is also a sizable Vietnamese population. These children are filled with love and a desire to learn, a fact that I remind myself of often when I am frustrated over my seeming inability to impart a certain bit of knowledge or angry at what I perceive as my failure to relate an important concept. And, make no mistake, frustration can be part of the job. While some students take off when given individual tutoring, others can become stuck in one spot. When progress doesn't happen for weeks, or months, frustration can be a natural result. However, we just keep grinding. We keep working, and I do my best to show my frustration to my teachers and my supervisor, not to the children. Above all, I think, these kids just want to know that someone believes in them and believes that they will achieve success. The scholar and historian Max Brod spoke of this when he said, "The soul can only blossom forth to its sublime and rare capacities when it feels it is being met with faith." Projecting that faith and confidence is one of the most important aspects of this job.
The end of the school year is approaching fast. Countless days have come and gone, some with frustrations, each with joys. I will take many things with me from my time in ACEE: friendships I've formed with staff members, co-workers, teachers, and members of the community. A shared sense of purpose and pride with AmeriCorps members throughout Austin. The knowledge that I've helped in the emergence of a child's ability to read. What I'll most remember, though, are the simple moments in which I saw unguarded happiness and pride flash across a child's face, and my own pride at being a part of it.