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School Days and Preschool Days, Too:
A treasury of anecdotes culled from my work and play as a preschool worker and an elementary school after- school activities supervisor
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IT TAKES A CHILD TO RAISE A VILLAGE

      It was after the Kick the Can craze faded that the building phase began. I was trying to make my afternoons as an Elementary Aftercare Supervisor as interesting and helpful as possible. I played baseball and football with the children and gave guitar lessons to anyone who expressed an interest. But roaming our big playground in the shadow of Mount Diablo, I often felt like a lone cowboy mending fences on some vast expanse of the King Ranch.
      One day during this period I noticed Cory, a 2nd grader, joyfully walking around with mud all the way up to his elbows and all over his face. Cory is never happier than when he's immersed in mud. As I watched, though, he suddenly stopped clowning and knelt down. He appeared to be lost in some project at ground level, but I couldn't see what it was. The new gazebo that our school engineer was building was blocking the way.
      Curious, I walked over to Cory to find that he and some friends had fashioned a whole, miniature city out of mud. The city had a wall around it, a domed gate, turrets, and smooth places for roads. It didn't look like a child's project, but like something I might see in a museum.
      Fascinated, I asked if I could join in. I thought I could make my best contribution as a road builder, and so began placing twigs along the smooth areas that circumambulated the city and connected its various parts. It took scores of such twigs to pave a whole road. But in a couple of afternoons, I had a pretty good freeway system in place.
     Meanwhile, more children had joined us, adding storehouses, temples, pyramids, tunnels, and other miniature structures. People, including teachers, who walked by became fascinated by what my fellow builders were now calling the Aztec City.
      After a week or so someone destroyed our city. That's always an occupational hazard of building things on the playground. By that time, though, interest in the project had already begun to flag. In fact, I suspect some of the builders may have been the very ones who knocked it down.

* * * * *

     Several days later I noticed a lot of activity in the tree-shaded, grassy area off to the west of our blacktop, a spot that was usually "out of bounds". One of the other supervisors had set up a chair and was allowing children to play there. I could see Cory and several other children carrying armfuls of sticks and grass across the lawn.      As my eyes adjusted to the shade, I saw where they were taking them. Twenty feet in front of me, a full-sized Indian village lay outspread! The little grove of trees sheltered 3 huts made of dried grass, each one 3 or 4 feet tall and unique in design. One of them, built around a skeleton of sticks used as ribs, was perfectly rounded and extraordinarily elegant.
      The whole setting of grass and wood structures intrigued me and its beauty soothed me. It was almost as though the miniature Aztec City of a week ago had come to life. When the other teacher mentioned that she had to go inside to do something, I jumped at the chance to take over supervising the village area.

This article is continued on the next page

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