And so it went

We got to play Mr. Mom the other day. It was nothing that we particularly set out to do. But our neighbor across the street came over about 7:30 am with the frantic news that she was going to be stuck in a meeting after work and that she couldn't find anyone to pick up her first grader at the after school program over at the Methodist church and could we pleasepleaseplease pick up Caroline and keep her until around 7 or so?

It is our privilege to know many single Moms. The vast majority of them are resemble drill sergeants in that they are used to imposing structure upon their respective environments. Days are planned out to the most minute degree. Which is only natural when you consider that they have to work, make sure everybody gets to the soccer practice or violin lesson on time, provide meals, check homework, clean house-clothes-dishes only to start planning to do it all again for the next day. Come to think of it, the foregoing could pretty much describe all of the Moms we know, single or otherwise. The time demands are just a little more acute on the ones who don't have a helpmate-or alleged helpmate-around the house.

But even the best planners get thrown a curve every now and again. And we may not be the most intuitive person in this Zip Code but we knew from the exasperated expression on this particular Mom's stressed out face that this was not the time to drop the ball neighborwise even though we had not planned to spend our early evening with a 7 year old girl. After all, it was a measure of her desperation that she was applying to us. Petitions to terminate parental rights have been filed over less.

So,"sure" we said. "Be no problem."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said as she ran to her car. "I'll call the church to make sure that there's no problem."

Yeah. Like physical arrest or something.

On the way home from church Caroline, uncorked the first of the zillion questions that would park themselves in her little brain during the 2 hours that she was under my care and supervision.

"Mom says you are a lawyer. What did you do today?"

We looked in the rearview mirror. How does one explain the black art of lawyering to a child of tender years?

"Wrote some papers for the judge to read."

" And will he read them?"

" Maybe."

And so it went as we sat on the porch swing.

"Does ivy have eyes?"

"No."

" Then how does it know to climb?"

About that time AngelOne passed over en route to Children's Hospital.

" How can helicopters fly without wings? Even birds have wings."

" Do you know science? This is what I know about science. There are solids, liquids and gases. Is there more?"

By and by the unseasonable cool of the evening chased us indoors. Once inside she pointed at a picture of a young woman on the mantle.

" Who's that?"

"That's Audrey. She is our goddaughter." we explained, persistent in our use of the third party voice that many readers of these ramblings find highly irritating.

"What's a goddaughter?"

" Well, in the Catholic and Episcopal Church, a godparent promises to take care of the baby in case something happens to the parents."

"What's 'piscopal?"

And so it went, this call and response from one so very young to one who can no longer make that claim. And while we have never considered ourselves to be a natural in the area of pedagogy, we felt like our liberal arts education actually came in handy for once as we answered Caroline's questions fairly accurately, seeing as how they spanned from science to theology. Our afternoon with Caroline made us feel almost useful as it is a good thing to spend time with a child. It takes a village and all that.

And yet, for some kids, an afternoon spent on a porch swing going over the reading assignment is as likely to happen as spending the afternoon on Mars. Earlier last week we received an e-mail from a friend who teaches first grade at another school in Little Rock. It said:

" I should have been a doctor and not a teacher. There is a boy in my room-his dad was killed a few years ago. His uncle was shot and killed yesterday and his sister's daddy was shot in the leg. This was yesterday also. This is what I deal with. I need more peace in the workplace."

How can a child possibly be expected to learn and develop while surrounded by so much violence? Do we expect our teachers, underpaid and stressed out as they are, to work miracles? Some people lead far different lives than our different lives than our little Caroline. She gets to cool her jets at the neighbor's house until while her mom is through with her meeting. Across town some other kid's uncle and stepfather got plugged on the same day.

And so it went last week in elementary education in Little Rock.