Our neighborhood had leafy lanes and wide sidewalks and neighbors—not just people who lived next door—and no kindergarten. There weren’t enough five- and six-year-olds together to fill a classroom; fifth and sixth grades had been combined and third was on the cut list. We held a meeting in the empty playground, sat on swings and seesaws and talked about what we wanted them to learn and what we didn’t. Several of us had been teachers, so we knew what we were doing. We couldn’t let them come here anymore. We found a room at one of those churches of God that always seem to have a room to spare and furnished it with what the local library didn’t need and started teaching them our way. We teach by example and experimentation and use the materials at hand. We didn’t require any funding but we wanted a flag for the room and nobody had one at home to lend us so we made our own in art class with some bright new colors and we wrote a song in music class to sing whenever we faced it. We told the kids to keep the school a secret and once they spread the word around enrollment soared. We reached out to other secret schools but only spam came back. My daughter has started to question what she’s learned. She still has notions of college and wonders how she’ll do on tests. I sat her on the seesaw where our uneven weights give me the advantage. Think hard, I told her, about what college has done to me. That’s right. We can stop this cycle now, or we can pass it to another generation. She clutched the grip bar for all she was worth and tried not to look down.
Copyright © November 25, 2007 David Hodges
9 comments
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November 25, 2007 at 12:17 pm
Jill Terry
Very interesting piece, as always! I’m off to ponder it now…
Hope all is well in your world, my friend.
Jill! Good to see you, too, my friend. All is well here.
–David
November 25, 2007 at 4:10 pm
Manictastic
Interesting. I like the way you hide the real motivation for the school. Makes it feel as if those people have something to hide. 😀
Thanks, Manic. I’m happy if it’s more intriguing than confusing.
–David
November 26, 2007 at 2:52 am
Wizzer
I thought I’d read a very different novel initially – no deeper meaning – I should have known better!
I just love the concept of breaking “the cycle” and the subtle way it’s introduced here. My personal maxim is “Nothing Changes Without A Change” – glad to see others agree!
Thanks, Wizzer. I’m happy you found a reason to read it a second time.
–David
November 26, 2007 at 4:19 am
briseis
I love this! I absolutely adore this piece! It’s lovely and hopeful and dizzying all at once, and oh so perfectly apt.
Thank you, Briseis.
–David
November 26, 2007 at 4:26 am
Litlove
‘I sat her on the seesaw where our uneven weights give me the advantage.’ What a fabulous line! It encapsulated (for me, anyway) the cleverness of this one, where idealism and innocence don’t quite balance in ways that make the reader uneasy.
Thank you, Litlove. As usual, nothing gets past you.
–David
November 26, 2007 at 3:35 pm
grantman
..it reminds me of the time I took my daughter to a protest march against incinerators and she got a touch of tear gas in her eye.. ” Daddy why are we doing this?” Yeah it reminds me of that time long ago. By the way, she goes to those protests on her own now… makes a Dad proud!!
grantman
Has her own flag, does she, grantman? Thanks!
–David
November 27, 2007 at 10:56 pm
anonymom
Love this one. The see-saw used as parental leverage is a brilliant device. Well done.
Thanks, anonymom! Leverage is just the right way to say it.
–David
December 7, 2007 at 8:32 am
modoathii
you just had to use the parental and the seesaw height scare to your double advantage..hahaha…as usual quite cool. my attempts continue…
weaved quite well, sir!
Thank you, modoathi. As you know, when words are few each word works harder.
–David
December 13, 2007 at 3:21 am
modoathii
true that!
I’m just a documentarian with a keyboard.
–David