This week I went to my grandnephew’s kindergarten graduation. There’s just all kinds of weird in that sentence alone. Children. Family. Social Event. Inclusion.
The school is K-12, laid out in a campus of what reminded me of Morton buildings—low-slung, metal barns. Here’s the south side of my sister as we make our way to the auditorium building
While I’m not one to follow the endless flow of depressing national news, I am invested in Oklahoma’s educational woes. A January report in Education Weekly ranked Oklahoma schools 47th in the nation with teachers’ salaries ranked 49th. Teachers went on strike in April, and while the state passed a bill to raise salaries slightly, it neglected to fund the bill. It never addressed other issues like the lack of program funding and huge class sizes
Teachers are leaving the state like psychiatrists left Iowa, fed up with a system that cares very little about the end-user or those who provide for them.
Oktah, my grandnephews’ school, is considered better than average and receives a federal grant due to its number of low-income students. The superintendent, who spoke at Zane’s graduation ceremony, asked parents and friends to stay involved. More than ever, it seems, it takes a village.
So, I was verklempt, watching my one out of forty-eight kindergarteners dance, sing and use sign language to proclaim his new status. So was my sister, the retired teacher.
I don’t know if I can help him or his older brother. Volunteering has always ended up a bipolar casualty. But I’m staying open to ways I might be part of that Village, even if it’s just being another grown-up (in closer proximity now) who will listen and answer their questions.
You never know the effect of just showing up. That’s something I can do.
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