The littlest learners – making each day great, in Birmingham.

If you’re out looking for 8-packs of Crayola crayons, good luck. I think the entire metro area is completely sold out.

Nobody told me to be proactive when shopping for school supplies. I’m a rookie. I’ve so much to learn.

We are embarking on the second week of our (public) school experience. How’s it going, you ask? Well, Sweet Pea looks adorably handsome in his mandated Oxford blue and khaki. And each day, as we enter the building and walk up the stairs to the main floor, I’m awestruck by the confident smiles on the faces of the children. As a matter of  fact, that was the very first impression I had upon touring the school (Avondale Elementary) last fall. The young students, they look so genuinely happy, so confident, so eager and ready and capable. And each day, as we make our way down the hall to Sweet Pea’s classroom, I have to fight the urge to swoop down and hug every single child who looks at me, smiles, says “Good Morning”, and unknowingly offers me the peace of mind that our neighborhood school is a nurturing, safe place where all these little minds will grow and grow.

On the first day, I (tearfully) guided Sweet Pea in to his classroom and we immediately saw several of his friends already seated at a table with one empty seat. How natural it would be, of course, for me to lead him right over, to introduce him to school with familiar faces and previously established bonds. But, no. I’m *that* mother. Because of my own {sometimes selfish} convictions, I tend to put a little extra pressure on my boys. And when I saw a little girl sitting at a table all alone, I veered our path straight to her.

“Introduce yourself,” I whispered in my son’s ear.

“I’m Grey,” he said. “I’m four.”

The little girl, beautifully extravagant in her bows and bobbles and ruffled blouse, responded, “I’m Destiny.”

(Here’s where I read in to things.)

Immediately, I knew our fate was predetermined, inevitable. God was offering me confirmation that THIS is exactly where we belong. All this anticipation, all the worry and fear and self-doubt, it was wiped away as soon as my son met his new classmate.

It is safe for the reader to assume that these two children do not look similar, physically. Which brings me to the less talked about (yet very important) fact that Birmingham, a city whose schools (even those “over the mountain”) are just as segregated as they were sixty years ago, is not exactly offering our kids a diverse learning environment. And let’s be honest here - we just don’t talk about it, for fear of offending our neighbors or opening a can of worms we don’t think we can control. So sure, a few of our family’s primary concerns as we prepared ourselves for this new experience were, “Will he fit in? Will our son be able to adapt and feel comfortable in his new environment? Will he notice the differences between himself and his classmates? Will they notice? How will this all go?”

After I’d spoken with the teacher and filled out necessary forms, I went back over to where the students were coloring.

“Mommy!” Sweet Pea exclaimed. “This little girl’s name has a ‘Y’ in it, just like mine!”

And there you have it. Why ever did I worry that my son would have trouble connecting with other children? Of course he found that commonality, and so easily. They giggled together and swapped crayons as if they’d been side-by-side for much longer than a few minutes.

Here’s my take-away from that first week:

Our children will never judge each other based on what neighborhood they are from, what color their skin is, what language their mother speaks. Instead, they will look for ways to relate to one another so that they are quicker able to find joy in being together, in sharing an experience, in seeking (the right kind of) pride in each other.

I’ve realized the significance of a child’s willingness to be part of something, to give their own faith in hopes of joining others that will want to be a part of that something, too.

I’ve watched teachers who had little-to-no lead time to prepare their classroom (thanks to the antics of five of our Board of Education members) create an environment that breeds warmth and happiness and joy and learning.

I’ve met committed, relentless administrators and coordinators who are tirelessly clamoring for every resource and dollar they can find so that they can immediately turn it in to more opportunity for our students. (United Way and Rotary, thank you.)

I’ve listened to fellow parents (from different backgrounds) share the exact same concerns and hopes and needs for their children that I have for my own. We are not so different, after all. We are not so different. And neither are our kids.

Our morning routine involves this conversation:

Me: “What’s today going to be, Grey?”

My sweet little boy: “Today’s gonna’ be great, Mommy.”

Optimism – it runs in the family.

I need to get to a point, don’t I…

That key to turning our city around? It rests in the hands of our children. It’s up to us to teach them how to use it, how to understand and appreciate its power. But gosh, maybe our kids have a few lessons to teach us first.

Unfortunately for Birmingham, the city has a long history of adults making poor choices that have directly influenced (and impacted) the youth that ultimately inherit what we leave behind. It’s cyclical, and it’s become pandemic to our culture. It’s easier, I suppose, to do what our mamas and daddies did. And in some instances that only equates further community decline.

Is it working here in Jones Valley? Are the lessons from the past making us a better city? I’m not convinced that they are, completely; rather, I’m seeing a community stifled by habit and resentment. Sometimes I even see such things in myself. As I said, it’s easier to do what we know, what’s been ingrained in to our own personal culture. Realizing that I had to ask myself those questions about whether or not my child would survive in a racially diverse environment? That was an “aha” moment.

God, protect my child from this way of living/playing/working/interacting.

In closing: To all of those out there who wished me well in my efforts to “take a closer look” at our city schools, take note. I’ve been inside. I’ve seen the truth within those classrooms. I have witnessed great teachers providing empowering, engaging experiences for their students. I’m not seeing perfection, but I’m seeing potential. I’ve been enlightened, and I’m even more optimistic than when we started this journey. The very best of Birmingham is sitting in our classrooms. And I’m empowered by those smallest learners. They are, after all, our most tremendous opportunity.

For now, I’m looking forward to a future (or, shall I say, a destiny) that includes these children looking beyond their differences as they eagerly work together to make each day great. My son will be right there in the middle of it, right next to his new friends, and I’ll be holding them up as they climb up and over the mountain that our generation may not get past.