"I Did All My Homework Already.. In Class"Yesterday I took a trip downtown. Not to Fell's Point. Not to Hampden. Or Federal Hill. Or the National Aquarium. I went to Dallas Nicholas Elementary School down on E. 21st street. There's something happening there. Girls with dazzling smiles. Flashing grins. Tremendous talent. Back in 2000, Dallas principal Irma Johnson started a program. The program grew, and today My Sister's Circle volunteers reach out to girls in more than forty local schools. These girls are selected by their teachers because they show intellect, talent, and promise. Our school works with fifth grade girls specifically, in hopes of helping them enter private and charter schools in sixth grade. Last year, one program member was granted a full-scholarship to the prestigious Calvert School in North Baltimore, which she is attending this fall.
As we walked into Dallas, one could not help but notice the striking disparities between these girls' school and our own. Dilapidated, out-dated, falling apart. Dirt streaked windows, barred doors, dusty floors. Worn wooden furniture in the front office. One is definitely not in private school anymore. At Dallas, you have to press an intercom button to be admitted and sign in at the desk as a safety precaution. Winding your ways down the dank halls, illuminated by a few sparse, faltering fluorescent lighting fixtures, you catch sight of little girls peering around corners, walking in single file lines. There's the straggler, the little one whose white polo is too big for her little frame, and who stops, filled with curiosity, as you pass. She's never seen you before? What are you doing here?
In the classroom, packed with boxes, old art supplies, and dusty toys, we sit at miniature tables, in chairs with broken legs, and teach. Really, we just help with some mechanics, remind them how to do division or to multiply by 12 to get "x" by itself. They teach us. There was the little girl with big, round, chocolate eyes standing in the corner playing house and washing dishes in the little play-sink. She watches us. "What's your name?" No answer. "Do you have a sister in this program." She just blinks back at you. No one is looking for her, no one seems to be troubled by her presence. She's just there, under the radar, quietly playing make believe by herself. She stands in the corner while her imagination runs wild. She's in a kitchen. She's a grown-up. She's pretending she has a simple, domesticated life, one of those ones moms usually complain about.
The little girl entertains herself with the wooden kitchen set for the duration of the tutoring session. You never learn her name or her business. The other girls file in, but four are missing. No one knows where they are. Doesn't that trouble anyone? Did they go home? Are they wandering the halls or out in the street? No one made sure they came to their tutoring program?
One girl has her homework all done already. She sits and cracks jokes while the others flip through their binders and settle down to spelling homework. One can already tell she is the class clown. A little heavy set, but bubbling and happy. The girls know all the spelling words. They know the definitions. Value. This week it's the "ue" words. Soon the others finish, and we play games. One tells us her nickname is Randy Moss, and so to include the other girl, we name her Ray Lewis. Randy Moss says she got her name because whenever they play football with the boys at recess she always catches the ball. Her dad takes her downtown to watch the Ravens every sunday. She and her friend both live in the county. They went trick-or-treating there last weekend. One went to her cousin's house. He had a haunted house in his basement.
The girls say they like Miley Cyrus, just like the privileged Lower School girls at my school do. One tells me I have the same color hair as Hannah Montana. Another says she hates "Party in the U.S.A." We go to look for the other girls but they are nowhere to be found. Brianna swears they were all in school today. Brianna also tells us about their skating field trip this Friday. She's never been before. She's excited. She doesn't even need help with her homework, it turns out. It's funny because 90% of the time they don't. They're pretty self-sufficient. When we leave, we promise more time for games and singing next week. They polish off the left-over Halloween candy we brought them. Brianna tells us she didn't get nearly enough last week, and, plus, she had to share with her brothers and sisters.
We walk out to the parking lot, turn on our iPods, and drive back. Through Charles Village. College students amble, sit at cafes, drink lattes in cable knit sweaters, and pore over chemistry books, cramming for their tests. Back through North Baltimore. The houses get bigger, the communities more sheltered. More gates. More white-washed walls, and wooden shutters, and manicured lawns. City parks turn to professionally clipped lawns. Roses grow up lattices. BMWs in the driveway. Soon enough, Dallas has been left in the dust. So long. See you next Wednesday..
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