First Day of School

This morning we found Henry’s teacher's name taped to the fence on the outdoor playground of P.S. 87 - Grade 3: Kazue Takenaga.  We stood there as more parents and children flooded into the playground.  Henry is one of very few blondes.  We knew this particular morning would be difficult.  From the moment we shared with our children last spring that we were moving to NYC, this was their worry - having to start new schools in a new place with new kids they didn’t know.  Henry’s fears materialized of course, as boys and girls all across the five third grade classes gave each other hugs and high fives, friends delighted to see one another after the summer.  Seeing the joy and ease with which the other kids greeted each other intensified Henry’s status as the new kid, the outsider.  

In Wendell Berry’s wonderful novel, Jayber Crow, we meet young Jayber - orphaned at three when both his parents fell ill, and orphaned again at ten when his great aunt and uncle passed away.  So he is sent to The Good Shepherd Orphanage.  It is painful to read his memories of what it is like to be ten years old, orphaned twice, and the new kid at an orphanage.  Late in life, he recalls a young girl at the orphanage named E. Lawler.

I remember a little girl . . . E. Lawler . . . who came to the Good Shepherd when she was about seven years old.  She was a slight, brown-haired, sad-looking, lonesome-looking girl whose clothes did not fit.  She looked accidental or unexpected, and seemed to be without expectation, and resigned, and so quiet that even in my selfishness I wished I knew of a way to help her.

I watched her all the time.  When her class went out to play, she did not take part but only stood back and watched the other girls.  She always wore a dress that sagged and brown cotton stockings that were always wrinkled.  She was waiting.  I did not understand that she was waiting, but she was.  And then one day as her classmates were joining hands to play some sort of game, one of the girls broke the circle.  She held out her hand to the newcomer to beckon her in.  And E. Lawler ran into the circle and joined hands with the others.

When Kazue (NYC teachers tend to go by first names) joined the group of kids lined up in her section, she smiled and laughed as she greeted all the kids and parents she already knew.  Just watching her move among the kids and parents with such kindness made us feel better immediately.  And then she came to Henry, who clearly was standing back a bit from the group, and was not yet wearing a smile like everyone else.  She took his hand and said, “Henry, because you’re new this year I want you to hold my hand and stay with me so I can show you our room.”  And off they went, his hand in hers, leading the class into a new year.  For the first time this morning, he smiled.