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Hugs, smiles and
learning:
school volunteers get as much as they give
By Brad Hughes
Staff Writer
[Editor’s Note: April 17-23 is Public School Volunteer Week. The author
has been a school volunteer for nine years, currently reading weekly to
two classes of first- and second-grade students at Frankfort
Independent’s Second Street School.]
I’m late.
Hustling down the hall, I think of the aide’s semi-serious comments the
last time I showed up late, “They were soooo upset. They thought you
weren’t coming today.”
I need to get into Vicki Yancey’s first-grade classroom and pick out my
books to read. If there’s enough time, I just might run across the
corridor into Donna Whitaker’s second-grade room and put some books in
my chair there.
OK. “Amelia Bedelia Cooks a Meal.” They love it when I get my tongue
twisted in Amelia Bedelia stories. Hmm. This one’s about a child in the
Philippines. I haven’t read that one. Now, one more, something with a
lot of characters so I can read with “Mr. Hughes’ funny voices.” This
looks good and that title – Ridiculous! – should do the trick.
Uh-oh. 12:30. I’ll have to pick the books in Ms. Whit’s class when I go
there. Gotta get into the hallway.
Just in time. The first-graders are a good 100 yards down the hallway,
but some of them spot me as soon as I step out of the doorway. Time to
wave! And wave! And wave and wave and wave! Two fingers to my lips, the
international signal for quiet. It works a little bit with some...but
not all of them.
They walk calmly until the final 10 feet or so and then the stampede
begins. “Mr. Hughes!” “Mr. Hughes!” Time for hugs. Some one at a time.
Some five and six in a group. One little guy doesn’t do hugs, but wants
his “high five.” And one little girl always holds back to the end so she
can get her own hug and whisper a secret.
“They’re full of themselves today,” says Mrs. Yancey. “They’ve been that
way all day.”
Back in the classroom, the reading area is already packed so tight that
there’s no hope of making my way to my stool. Gotta go around one of the
tables and come in the back. Mrs. Yancey says, “Two scoots back,
everyone. Give Mr. Hughes room to breathe. And I don’t see some of you
doing criss-cross applesauce.” This is apparently another of those
international signals to cross your feet and legs and sit still.
“OK,” I say, “here are today’s books. Remember you get to vote for two
that we’ll read.”
I read the titles and show the books to the class, and the voting
begins.
Amelia Bedelia Cooks a Meal has eight votes. The one on the child in the
Philippines draws not a single hand, and that gains the “Annnng” buzzer
sound (a mistaken gesture I made before learning how well first-graders
retain things they find funny.
Ridiculous! is a hit. I count “One, two, three, four, five,
six…12…111…5,986.”
“Mr. Hughes! There aren’t that many.” “Yes, there are. I counted hands
and fingers!” Giggles galore.
I introduce “Ridiculous!” by showing the cover and telling the class
that the words were written by a boy named Michael and the pictures were
drawn by a girl named Gywneth. One girl’s head jerks. “My daddy’s name
is Michael.”
Page One. “‘Ho Hum,’ yawned Mr. Tortoise. ‘Winter is here.’”
“‘So it is,’ yawned Mrs. Tortoise. ‘Come on, Shelley, time for bed.’”
This book is a keeper, short, colorful pages and plenty of action worthy
of laughs. Now it’s time to tackle “Amelia Bedelia Cooks a Meal.” By
now, one girl has been called away for a little personal discussion
about her demeanor. That distraction allows some of the others to close
in. No stamping my feet today to act out a scene or I’ll stomp toes.
“‘But,’ says Amelia Bedelia, ‘you said to dress the turkey and the
doll’s dress and hat were the only clothes I could find to fit it.’”
“Mr. Hughes. Read fast.” “No, read slow.” “No, read normal.”
“Wellllllllllllllll….maaaaaaaaybeeeeeeee I can reeeeeeeeeead one
liiiiiiiiiiiiine slooooooooooooow…
“andthenthenextlineasfastasIcantomakeeveryonehappyandtomakecertainwecanfinishthisbookbeforeIrunoutoftime.
OK?”
(pant, pant, inhale deeply twice).
By now, the giggle meter is pinging in the red zone. Even Mrs. Yancey
has stopped cutting out the paper figures she was working on to watch
the kids react.
And with that, time’s up.
“May I come back next week?”
“Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!,” shouts a chorus of 18 voices.
Carefully stepping between the bodies sprawled over the reading carpet,
I get a few repeat hugs and toss a “You’re very welcome,” over my
shoulder in response to Mrs. Yancey’s, “Thank you, Mr. Hughes.” It’s
time to head to Mrs. Whitaker’s room and a new audience.
The last word
If it’s an overstatement to claim that volunteering in schools has
changed my life, it’s not that much of a stretch.
Ask my colleagues at KSBA if they can’t tell which day of the week I’ve
been to Second Street School to read to “my kids.” Ask my wife, Judy, if
I don’t come home with stories and smiles that lifted my day and eased
any tensions.
An hour a week is a pitiful contribution to get so much of a boost to
the human spirit. Yet the Kentuckians who volunteer in our schools give
more than just time. They give children the sight of someone outside the
school who comes in and cares. It may be mentoring a fatherless teen. It
may be tutoring a student who is having a tough time in math. Or handing
out ice cream in the cafeteria. Or cutting out diagrams so a teacher can
spend more time working with her class. Or greeting children as their
buses arrive each morning and urging them to get to the homerooms
quickly.
In whatever form, for whatever length of time, school volunteerism is a
message worth getting out.
Photo: On a St.
Patrick’s Day visit, volunteer Brad Hughes reads a story about Irish
immigrants to students in Vicki Yancey’s second-grade class at Frankfort
Independent’s Second Street School. In the session, students also acted
out an Irish children’s song and learned about Irish craftsmen who came
to America and constructed some of the stone fences found around central
Kentucky.
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