Monday, 2 April 2012

lunch lady

Today is my day to fix lunch at the school.

 Peeling, chopping (because our kids get the freshest and the healthiest, and that involves prep) stirring. Soon I'll start laying out the plates. 23 today (I need to double check that, actually) but I'm spellbound by the view out of the kitchen windows.

 The playground is momentarily quiet, the grassy fields just beginning to hint at restless spring green, and waiting for soccer balls and chasing games through the nearby woods. The hum of lessons seeps through the corridor - a delighted cheer, a piping far away 'You got it! Now try the next one.' The secretary laughs in her office down the hall and there's someone in the bathroom taking a very long time to wash their hands.

 This school means everything to this place, and to these kids.

 How could anyone say that this place - this joyful, encouraging place - isn't worth keeping and isn't the best thing for our children? This is their home, their base, their breath.

 This is where every teacher knows every student and their parents)and can greet brothers and sisters not-yet-old-enough-to-attend by name. Where parents are welcome and volunteers smile when they see the kids.

 This school constantly tries to be different for their pupils - to make memories. There is a big fish-tank in the office fill of just-hatched salmon eggs (the kids will release them this spring into the river that flows through our village) and the kids come to stare all-agog and comment between classes. This school houses an offshoot public library, hosts pilates and other self-help groups, regularly invites in local authors to speak to the children, and was an award winning entry in the region-wide Community Christmas Decorating contest.

Later this week there will be a giant Easter Egg hunt on the grounds. Pre-schoolers are also invited, because this open-hearted school wouldn't leave out the small ones in the community. There will be sightings of the Easter Bunny and mysterious golden eggs. It will be a good time. Why would it be any other way?

This school, this cherished, lovely snug little school, is under review. Under threat of closure. And I say again, why?

Don't try and tell me this school isn't good enough for my children.  For our children.

Because it's better than good enough. For them, it's their world.

And that's better than enough.

2 comments:

Mary G said...

School closure decisions always mystify me. Unless the building is unsafe and the Board can't afford to repair it, why mess with what works.
Sympathy. I have fought two closures, won one, lost one.
Wishing you the best of luck and arguments.

Lynda said...

Good luck. I'd send our kids to your school, but that would be one hell of a commute!