the monk in china

So...basically, I started my work-study job on Monday at Comegys (pronounced Cah-mih-gees) Elementary School in West Philadelphia. I'm a tutor-mentor for 4th-6th graders, and I'm also going to start teaching a creative writing class as an "enrichment activity." I'm kind of surprised at myself, because although I used to say I wanted to be a pediatrician and all that fun stuff, I'm not that good with kids. I smile like crazy like Tour Guide Barbie and put on an almost sing-songy voice, but honestly? I'm not really sure if kids like me. I think I like kids. They're brutally honest and a lot smarter than you think they are - better than adults that hide behind their words and don smiles while thinking something completely different.

It was weird going back to an elementary school. I mean, it'd even be weird to go back to Northview, and just feel the smallness of that place. Whenever I visited River Trail Middle, I'd marvel at the fact that it just seemed ten times smaller than what I had thought it was when I actually went there. But yeah, despite the fact that this school is in West Philadelphia (you should see the houses), it's really not too shabby. The crazy amount of stairs/floors kind of reminded me of my own elementary school. The cafeteria was okay. The front office was just like any other front office. But what hit me was when we walked into room 200, and I saw the little patches of desks with those cubby holes, and the posters promoting education, and the black chalkboard. There's actually a difference between seeing chalkboards in my college classrooms and seeing one in that 5th grader room. It just took me way back to the past. 

Why is it that children can see the silver lining and the half-fullness of a glass of water? Withstand any circumstances as long as they have a friend and a few kind words along the way? 

I went to a ghetto elementary school. It was built in 1899, and there was a walkway that connected the old part of the building to the new part of the building. We did not have air-conditioning; in fact, I remember we would bring frozen water bottles to school around late May, early June just so we could keep cool all day. We barely had a playground, and we certainly did not have a separate cafeteria from our gym. In the gym, we had pull-out table-benches that the custodians would have to pull down before lunchtime everyday, and 28-30 little kids would have to squish onto the two benches. There was no lunch line, really. It was more or less two folding tables set into a long row, and we had a choice of "hot", "cold", "pb&j" or "salad". The cold and pb&j lunches would be in a white or brown paper bag, respectively, and salads would be in those plastic carry-out containers. The salads were kind of gross, really - cottage cheese on lettuce, plus a Trix yogurt container squished into the side. The hot lunches were in those take-out paper-cap/foil-body containers that you get from Chinese restaurants, and I'm pretty sure they were the left-overs from the middle school. Fridays were our pizza days, and up until fourth?fifth? grade, we got those microwaveable rectangular pizza slices in plastic wrap. After fourth/fifth grade, we started ordering from Papa John's, but they got it delivered so early, it'd always be cold by the time we ate it. But it was pretty much the best pizza I ever had, that first year. Our librarian was a mean old soul, and our principal looked like Glenn Close from 101 Dalmations. My sixth grade science teacher was literally straight out of Magic School Bus Ms. Frizzle, only she wasn't as cool; actually, I think she was a bit not right in the head. 

But you know what? Both then and now, I believe that I went to the best elementary school ever. My fourth grade teacher, Ms. Tuckfelt, took us out to lunch at the Subway across the street if we gathered up 20 A's. I am not a big fan of Subway these days, but that one lunch, swinging my legs back and forth on that metal chair, talking about who-knows-what with my terrific teacher from Teaneck - I won't ever forget it. I learned Greek mythology, current events, SAT vocabulary, mock trial skills, haikus, and how to evaluate myself with a critical (but not too critical) eye in the Gifted-and-Talented class they had there. Hopscotch was my life in third grade. For the first time in my life, I felt convicted to actually go clean up the soccer field (which was actually a field of dirt and sand) during recess, toting three garbage bags and dragging my two best friends along. I got to buy Christmas presents for my parents and my brother through the little Santa Shop they ran every year. I got to go to school with my brother for the first and last time. I got my one and only award in P.E. for having good push-ups and flexibility like no other. I froze my nose off playing basketball with the guys; I stretched out my vocal chords, imagination, and inherent Korean side pretending to be popstars with my friends. I could learn, do, and be whatever I wanted to. I could not imagine a better childhood.

Because despite the oddball substitutes that couldn't speak English, the haunted bathroom, the lame desks that would wobble back and forth for lack of one foot - I was happy. And thus, I was invincible. 

And this kid that I worked with the other day, I know he believes in his invincibility. He was awfully tired from working on a bunch of conversion (yard to feet, yards to inches, etc.) problems, but we were on the last one. He wasn't really focusing, so I told him to put two fingers on each side of his head and say "Focus" because there's this monk in China, who if he does that, he can solve any math problem in the world. Now, kids these days are really smart. Realistic. So he said, "There ain't no Chinese monk. There ain't no monk." And I said, "No, really, my friend knows him really well." He considered it for a minute - a minute of nervousness on my part - then said, "Well, he can't solve my problem." I paused, wondering if there was something not right at home or at school, but then he smiled and said, "I'm smarter than that fake monk." And he went ahead and solved it, proving his point. 

Now, I don't know what kind of psychological effects that little white lie will have on him, but what I got from it was that children, though they are smart and they know when to doubt, they will rise to the challenge nevertheless. We need some of that as we get older. Sometimes we get so caught up in what's wrong with our lives, what's missing, what we want, and what's ideal, that we forget to appreciate the good stuff. The happiness that lies within us. 

The invincibility.