“Ten weeks—that’s all we have left. June sixth, we’re gone.” Ten weeks?
The week off from school had given her time to plan. Miguel had ten weeks left until active-duty discharge. He had served his time and was ready to return to New Jersey and his career. But she had only nine weeks left with her students and was excited to get back to school, where they would continue their work on cursive writing. The first letters they learned were c, o, a, d, and g. They were motivated when they joined letters to write a few words, like dog and add.
Even though the Dick and Jane books were old and out-of-date, the workbooks had assessments at the end, as did the math workbooks. The assessments documented improvement in reading and math skills. Each child had a black-and-white marble composition pad filled with writing samples. All she had to do was turn the pages to see the changes. Over spring break, she had reviewed their work and felt good about their progress. May 29 was the last day of school. She wanted to make these the best nine weeks of the school year.
She loaded a cardboard box with the materials she had collected for planting bean seeds. She needed to make two trips to the car to bring in the books about plants. Jeanne, her new librarian friend, had collected more than she had space for, but Colleen took them anyway.
As she was clearing her desktop, the only spot large enough to set up the materials for the bean planting, Cynthia burst into the trailer.
“Miz Rodriguez, I’m glad to see you.” Her little frame was heaving with breathlessness. Colleen didn’t have a chance to ask why before Linkston came up the wooden steps and through the open door.
“You cain’t leave the door open. All the cold air will escape!” he shouted.
Colleen held in a laugh. It was good to see these two. Nothing had changed with them. Now she knew the reason for the heavy breathing. Cynthia and Linkston had raced from the street. Cynthia had won again.
“Did you two come on the bus today? It’s early for you to be here already.”
“No, my mama has a new job, and she brought us in the car,” Cynthia announced.
“I’m glad to see you. I can use some help. Do you want to set up the library table or the science experiment?”
“Science experiment!” they both shouted.
“First, let’s put these newspapers on the top of my desk. Okay?”
Colleen handed them each a section of newspaper and demonstrated how to take two or three sheets and layer them to cover the desk.
“Happy Easter, Miz Rodriguez. Do you like my new dress?” Cynthia asked, as she tidily set down the papers. “I wore it to church yesterday, and my mama said I could wear it today to show you. I had a hat, too, but I couldn’t wear that to school—it might get ruined.”
The skirt of her dress ballooned as she spun around.
“I love it, Cynthia, especially the bow in the back. It’s fancy—”
“I’m done. Used all the newspapers,” Linkston interrupted, clearly annoyed with all the chatter about Cynthia’s dress.
“That’s great. Now you can take out the paper cups. Please lift them up out of the box carefully so the dirt doesn’t spill out of them.”
On the desktop, Colleen placed the container of lima beans that she had soaked overnight, along with paper towels, sandwich bags, a black marker, and a spray bottle full of water. She checked her watch. “I’m glad you came early. The science project is all set up. Let’s go get the class.”
An unfamiliar emotion filled Colleen as they made their way out of the trailer: a sudden burst of joy at the challenge of the unplanned integration, the rejection by the staff at the white school, the lack of materials, and the impossibly tight quarters, in comparison with what she had accomplished despite all that. Cynthia and Linkston were two good examples. Pride nudged the happiness in her heart when she saw the lineup of smiling faces waiting for her.
The safety of the prepared science project was compromised as soon as Jarrod saw Colleen’s desktop. He picked up the spray bottle of water. “Miz Rodriguez, what’s all this stuff for?”
“Please put it down. It’s for our science lesson after lunch.” She wasn’t sure who was more amazed when he did exactly what she asked.
Everyone seemed glad to be back to the school routine, and the morning went smoothly. As promised, the science experiment was the first of the afternoon activities. Colleen stood behind her desk and explained that they were going to plant some bean seeds in soil and some in a plastic bag without soil.
“Y’all need to put them beans in dirt,” Jarrod called out.
Of course, Colleen thought. Did he use up all his goodness in the morning?
“That is the usual way, Jarrod, but this is an experiment, and we’re going to find out what plants need to grow. We’re going to observe and compare. Those are science words. Are you ready to be scientists?”
“Yes!” they yelled in a gleeful chorus. Colleen guided the children to place three beans in the cup and cover them gently with soil. They each folded a paper towel, and then Colleen sprayed it with water. She demonstrated how to put the towel in the plastic sandwich bag, lay three more beans on the towel, and fold over the top of the bag. She taped the bags to the wall behind her desk. “We’re going to take the beans we planted in the cups outside and put them next to the steps in this box. The outside beans in dirt will have light and water each day. The inside beans in the bags will have water. It’s your job to watch them grow.”
The first two days of the week after spring break felt like her days back at West Hill School. The fine-tuning of her classroom management had them all humming, literally. Colleen was her old self. She burst into song to signal the class. If she sang “A Beautiful Morning,” they knew to pick up their carpets “to go outside awhile”; when she sang “Yellow Submarine,” it was because they needed a break. She and the class would march single file through the rows of desks. Pretending the trailer was a submarine beneath the sea fed everyone’s resilience.