Part 3 of the WYG’s Garden Science series. (Science. It’s Back [part 1]; Life Cycle of a Child [part 2])

Center City third grade. First class of the week. Team Basil and I are playing in the dirt. Discussing soil. Isaiah says that he doesn’t like the smell of dirt. He likes the smell of fried chicken. We disagree on this topic. Eventually we resolve our differences, agreeing that the smell of chicken in the forest would be pleasurable.
It is our third week of programming, and we are discussing what plants need to survive. The answers we seek are the fundamentals – air, water, light, food, soil. Before disclosing this precious information, we appeal to the class for ideas. To them, the question is posed, “what do plants eat.?” Immediately, as if we had asked on what planet we are sitting, the entire class, in unison, with enthusiasm equal to that if we had asked for volunteers to demonstrate how to eat an entire chocolate cake in 15 seconds, shouts: “TREES!!”
Curious.
At Imagine Hope, our Wednesday school, we had to cram in two lessons this week on account of the Snowlycowtheresalotofsnow days. The students are dissecting soaked bean seeds. They are looking for the sprouted root and leaves inside of the cotyledons. There is the usual snickering because the beans smell like farts and are slimy. After a moment, though, a lovely occurrence occurs.
“Hey! Look! I found it! Me too! I found them!”
The gleeful outbursts begin to waft up from the general classroom area. Like, like snowflakes or raindrops, falling steadily, scattering around the room. That doesn’t quite work… like a sprinkling of water droplets, landing gently on a smooth surface of water, “yes!’s” ring out, the resultant rippling enthusiasm encouraging their classmates to send their own droplets, their own ripples back out into the class. A contained cacophony of bean-themed exclamations – this is the sound of children getting excited about learning.
After Kacie announced to our first class at Imagine Hope that we would be planting seeds on that glorious day, Jahmes (jah-mez) volunteers the tidbit that okra is his favorite vegetable. Jane (a made up name, because I can’t remember her real name) sneers from across the room. Jahmes clicks his tongue, throws his head back and responds: “aww you crazy, you don’t know what okra is? It’s a pointy vegetable with little black dots….um, seeds, inside (seeds were part of our lesson last week. Big points for Jahmes for working this into his put-down), and its real slippery and gooey and it can be fried or you can eat it regular.
At this, I smiled. Way to go Jahmes. Way to stand up for okra. Way to stand up for yourself. Most of all, way to stand up for foods with unconventional textures.
At Center City, we played in the dirt hard (after completing all of our educational duties, of course). We made a dirt castle with four popsicle stick drawbridges (every member of the royal family needs their own popsicle stick drawbridge), and a moat. The moat wasn’t very successful. Unless our measure of success was creating a giant tray of mud. In that sense, we were hugely successful. Needless to say, once the funding dried up on the moat project, a good hand washing was necessary.
I accompanied my team downstairs to the bathrooms, with the intention of washing my hands as well. The girls went to the girls’ bathroom. I asked Isaiah about the location of the bathroom.
“Isaiah, where is the bathroom?”
He looks up at me, and stares an odd, apprehensive stare, and says nothing. Odd…
After a moment of locked eyes, he moves in the direction of what turns out to be the boys’ room. There is a teacher waiting for her students at the door. As I pass this teacher, entering the boys’ bathroom with a young boy, it hits me.
Good god! I’m a perv! Does it count if I didn’t know? That must be what the stare was about he didn’t want me to come into the bathroom with him cuz its pervy and adults don’t use the boys room adults use the mens room because little boys use the boys room and only pervs would want to use the boys room with little boys. Good LORD what have I done?!
I hesitate just as I pass her, looking for any discernable traces of disapproval. Any eye twitches or mouth-corners heading south. I linger just long enough for my smile to fade and the atmosphere become awkward. No sign of objection…and I’m in the boys’ room.
Everything turned out fine. I washed my hands. Isaiah washed his hands. One of the kindergarteners the teacher was waiting for walked out with his pants undone. Everybody wins. Turns out I’m not a perv, but adults usually use the adult bathroom.
Franklin and I are holding hands. Well, I am holding Franklin’s hands, which wriggle wildly in mine, trying to free themselves. Franklin’s teeth shine behind his broad smile. There is a small speck of dirt on his right cheek. He’s talking about gettin’ bad guys or mud popsicles or how you plant seeds in space. I’m talking about putting basil seeds in little plastic cups with dirt. At least I’m trying.
Osagie (oh-sah-jee), sits between us saying ‘can I hold your hand? Can you hold my hand? Will you hold my hand? So I hold Osagie’s hand and he squeals, pulling them away, smile bursting onto his face, soil flecks flying into the air like an ocean mist.
Franklin’s the bad boy kind. Generally indifferent, always talkative. Very capable, very smart. Franklin liked playing in the dirt. Franklin couldn’t stop demonstrating the life cycle of plants in the dirt with his fingers. To get Franklin to pay attention, I threatened to hold Franklin’s hand. To get Franklin to calm down, I held Franklin’s hand. He shrieked and made a scene, like cool kids do, because he liked it. But not as much as he liked planting seeds.
If you have any questions, comments, general concerns, or would like to help assuage my fears of being a perv, you can contact me at aplotsky@washingtonyouthgarden.org