School of Two Thousand Smiles–Chapter Two

ELLA

I looked back to make sure my new lunkhead student was following me into the classroom. He was. I saw Sam talking with Olivia about something, and I wanted to go over and stomp on his foot for saddling me with this jerk from Mississippi.

When we moved here from St. Louis two years ago, I was mocked a little for my funny accent, but it was nothing compared to Danny’s. One guy mimicked me by saying, “Harses eat carn in the marning.” My Dad said that St. Louisites always pronounced ‘o’s before ‘r’s like they were ‘a’s. However, I suppose Mississippians spoke a distinctly different dialect. I bet if Danny went to one of the old-fashioned regular schools, he’d be razzed to death.

I’m looking forward to seeing how he gets along with our cohort.

Sam saw us and yelled, “Hey, Ella, bring our new guy over here.”

Danny seemed so squeamish about me touching him, so I just nodded in Sam’s direction, and we went to meet him. Danny whispered, “You call your teacher by his first name?” I nodded and he whispered back, “Weird.” Of course, I was my most polite self as I introduced Danny to Olivia and Sam. Sam shook Danny’s hand, and Olivia smiled, then waved her hand shakily. I would tell Danny about her palsy later.

Sam stood and took Danny’s right hand in both of his and said, “Welcome to our cohort, Danny. And thank you, Ella, for escorting Danny to our room. So, Danny, how’d you like the beginning of our day with the songs and dancing? 

Just like, uh,“ I guess he forgot for a minute where Danny was from and then went on, “Oh yeah, Mississippi, huh?”

Danny rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yeah, like Mississippi in a pig’s eye. Back there, they almost handcuffed us and dragged us into rooms.” Despite the drawl, I was surprised at Danny’s articulation. I got the impression that he was already getting used to the easy and folksy way everyone acted and talked at our school. Danny continued, “Do ya’ll start every day like that?”

“Yes, if possible. Do you play a musical instrument?” Sam, sitting back down, looked up at Danny from his seated position. 

“Yeah, a guitar, chords. Ah, but not in public – ever.” He looked like he was ashamed of himself for saying he only played chords. Sam said, “Well, you’ll get to know your fellow fifth-grade musicians soon. Your lovely escort, Ella, plays the guitar too.” Danny looked puzzled as he glanced over at me, like it was strange that I could play the guitar. Sam told him, “Find yourself a seat – ah, Ella is looking at us and patting the chair next to her. Go sit by her, she’s a great gal.”

 

7.

Danny headed over and sat down next to me and said, “Are ya sure he’s our teacher? He sounds more like my Uncle Charlie or our next-door neighbor. He even called you a ‘great gal’. Now that’s weird.”

“That I’m a great girl, or that he talks like a person?” He leaned back, smiled, laughed, and said, “Both.” I looked around and every seat was now taken. I whispered to Danny, “Sam will ask everyone to introduce themselves to you, so relax and smile, okay?” He nodded.

Sam shouted, “Okay, all you people, welcome back to our wonderful cohort. I know all but one of you from last year, but I’m new as your cohort facilitator. And, we have a new member who, I guess, is replacing the irreplaceable Steve Patter.” He pointed toward us and said, “Welcome, Danny White.” Everyone yelled, “Welcome, Danny.” And clapped. Sam continued, “Now, each of you introduce yourselves to Danny, and Danny, we’ll wait to hear from you after everyone else gets to tell us who they are now, after they’ve been born again over the summer.

“Let’s start with you, Olivia.” Olivia was an original member and had cerebral palsy. She had never let it stop her from sharing her thoughts and feelings. She had learned that the best way to ‘talk’ was to sing her words in a sing-songy kind of way. She began, using the tune from the "Do-Re-Me" song in The Sound of Music. “Well, I’m Olivia, and I became a singing teacher who teaches CP kids how to talk to you. I attended the University of San Diego, and I loved it. Now I am somebody.” She puffed out her chest, and everyone clapped. She sang, “And now I give you thanks.”

I’m sure I would never be as cheerful as she is if I had cerebral palsy. She shakily moved a hand toward the boy next to her.

Joe Jackson was a skinny African American guy who was much darker than I and didn’t have an ounce of shyness in him. “Well, I’m Joe, and, guys and gals, I am now a professional weed puller, trash man, and carpenter’s helper who builds dog houses. Oh, and I sang Ol’ Man River in a summer play at the Parks and Rec. summer playhouse. So, I’m now a professional singer!”

We clapped and laughed. I wonder if Sam thought of sending Joe after Danny.

Sam said, “Now, we’ll go around the circle and to our right. So, Ella, tell us about you.” I took a deep breath, “I am now a certified infant caregiver. My mother’s sister gave birth to a baby boy in June.” Immediately, everyone clapped and yelled, “Hallelujah.” And everyone waved their hands as if they were at a Black church meeting, and I noticed Danny looked like he was in a zoo. “And…the new Mom hired me to be the baby’s nanny. I started in July.” They clapped again. “I like being a nanny, but I’m also glad I get to go home every night, too. Now my aunt must hire somebody else to be the nanny, but I’ll continue when I can.”

8.

I turned to Debbie Ma, the only Asian American in our group and one of the five ‘originals’.

“I’m Debbie, and I’m happy to be back with you all, and I’m now able to be a mommy. I began having my period last month!” Everyone clapped and yelled “Huzzah”. “And I do not plan to be a mommy for at least ten years, and this preparation period is going to be a pain.” We all laughed. Joe chuckled and said, “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to see you having a baby that would make your role the same as your last name.” More laughter. I’m sure that when I begin having periods, I won’t be as open about it as Debbie, and I admire her courage. My mom said I’d probably be having my period any day now. I was pretty sure I’d keep it to myself – and mom, of course.

Sam asked Debbie, “Debbie, did Joe’s comment about your last name bother you?” She shook her head and said ‘no’. Dave was on Debbie’s right and was probably the shyest one in the cohort. I was surprised when he began with, “Wow, Debbie, you’re a hard act to follow. I’m pretty sure I’m not even close to being ready to be a papa.  Oh, and Danny, I’m Dave. And back to babies, I’ve only changed my nephew’s diaper once, and he peed all over me. And that was this summer, so I think that helped me be born again – the baby’s name was Jeff, so King Jeff christened me like the queen christens a ship with a bottle of champagne. Uh, I’d rather have champagne than pee for my christening.” He earned a round of applause.

Sitting next to Dave is Maria, who is Latin American and nearly as shy as Dave. “Danny, I’m Maria, and I continue to be a professional mommy for my two sibling brats. I use ‘brats’ lightly because they are adorable, but they are kids, and they are not mean or cruel at all. I must admit that I get along better with my little brother than I do with my little sister. Anyway, my mom does appreciate me, so my ‘profession’ is good. So, you guys will help me have a vacation from them, right?” We laughed and clapped. I wondered if Danny had any siblings, and if they were younger, I bet his Mom rarely asked him to be their babysitter. Gender discrimination isn’t done yet.

Gordo, our biggest member, and one who could even laugh at his nickname, ‘Gordo’. He was a co-teacher of Spanish and called us ‘mono-lingual idiots’, as he would laugh at our struggling attempts at speaking Spanish. “Well, believe it or not, I am now officially a Spanish instructor.” He looked around at all of us and continued, “And you all have helped me to become a teacher. I am officially an assistant at the summer program for high-school students right here in this building.” We all shouted “Wonderful!!”

I looked across the circle at Evie; she and Olivia were the only light-complected girls in our cohort. And she was also the most developed physically. I thought she was astute and poised, but she didn't act superior at all, and I liked her. “Well, as you all know, I hope to

9.

I became an actor and got a start this summer. Like Joe, I was in a play this summer. I was the younger sister of one of the main characters. I was a smart-alecky brat and had about ten words to say. So, I’m an actress.” She looked down her nose at us, and everyone but Danny laughed. He just looked confused.

 

Chris was the last one to share before Sam and Danny. Chris was as white as Danny, and I thought he was handsome. He was also smart, athletic, and kind. If I were ready for a boyfriend, I’d choose him. “Good morning, Danny, and you all. I’m glad to be back in school with you. My Dad worked my butt off this summer. You’d think I was forty years old because he had me do things only an old man could do. So, I guess I’m now a professional old carpenter’s helper. We built an entire house in three months, and I was Dad’s only full-time helper.” We all clapped, and I think I blushed as if I were already his girlfriend. Chris turned to Sam, “Now, old man, tell us how you were born again.”

“Okay. I enrolled in a six-week program on how to reach a bunch of smart-alecky fifth graders.” We all groaned. “And I gave a talk at a teachers’ conference on how to bring the very best out of wonderful boys and girls who love me and want to grow up to be outstanding people!” We all yelled, ‘Hoo–rah!’ “And most important, I am now the proud papa of a baby girl!” That brought on a double Hoo–rah, and clapping. “And like Dave’s experience, I’ve been ‘christened’ dozens of times already. So now, Danny, tell us about yourself and start with what you now think of your cohort buddies.”

I was anxious to hear what he was going to say. In his deep southern drawl, he began, “Well, first ya’ll talk funny, unlike me.” He mimicked Evie and looked down his nose at us, and we all jeered. He went on, “First, I’d just like you to know that, so ya’ll would know that I’m aware of my Mississippi accent. Up until a month or so ago, I’ve lived my entire life near Oxford, Mississippi – the home of Ol’ Miss – the only state that has four ‘I’s and four' Ss in its spelling. Now, ya’ll, that’s something to brag about, huh?”

We groaned, and he grinned. “Because, unlike Ella, my Mom and Dad do not have doctorates. I don’t think my mom ever graduated from high school, and my dad probably graduated from a school in hell.”

He looked over at Sam, seemingly waiting to be scolded, but Sam just sat there and frowned. Danny went on a bit more hesitantly, but I thought bravely. He was sooo different from what I first thought. “In Mississippi, we gotta pay to go to kindergarten, but I didn’t go. It isn’t a public school there. For four years, I sat in a straight row of desks. I mean big desks, not this kind of one-arm chair. I was told to sit still, keep quiet, pay attention, and do as I was told. Period. My teachers would have fainted if they had heard the way you all talked. And, Debbie, you would have been expelled from school for mentioning that you had started your menstrual cycle. Oh, my god, they were sure that you were full of the devil himself.”

We all laughed, and I’m thinking that Danny was either putting on an act when I first met him or he’s acting now. Anyway, I’m liking him better. He went on, “I think the devil is always male. And girls are angels, of course.” We laughed harder, and I am amazed at his speaking ability and poise. I thought he’d stumble all over himself and be tongue-tied. He is amazing! “So, please be patient with me, I’ve never been with a bunch of openly bratty people my age before.” We all gave him a standing ovation.

10.

Sam stood up and added, “Wow, Danny, that was a great introduction. Welcome to our cohort. Oh, and have you been taking lessons from Joe Jackson here? We’ll take a restroom break and grab a snack or whatever, and we’ll get back together in five minutes.” He paused and said, “Ella and Danny, would you please stay a minute?” Chris, Evie, and Gordo almost ran across the circle and shook Danny’s hand, and Gordo even gave him a bear hug. Danny grinned from ear to ear. I’m sure he felt welcome, and my reservations about him vanished. I felt proud to have been his escort.

Danny and I went to meet with Sam. Sam said, “Danny, would you mind if Ella kind of acted as your guide for the week?” Before I could say anything, Danny said, “Okay, I guess, if it’s okay with her.” I told him it was okay with me, but I wasn't sure why. He looked at me, and I smiled. Sam told Danny that he would see him at 3:30 this afternoon. 

School of Two Thousand Smiles–Chapter One

Tuesday, September 4th, 2044 CE

DANNY

I’m standin’ round gawkin’ at a bunch of folks – there must be about 200 or more of them, and they’re a hodge-podge of races, from White to Black, and everywhere in between. They are of all ages – from toddlers to my grandparents – if I had grandmas and grandpas. I’ve no idea why they are all mixed up and standin’ round, Whites jabberin' with Blacks as if there’s no difference, and are letting the kids just run around and doin' whatever they want. This is supposed to be a school, at least I was told it was. "What the hell is going on?"

I’m in the fifth grade, and I just moved to California from Mississippi. Well . . . I didn’t just move. About three weeks ago, I ran away from home and hitched a ride to California.  After nearly starvin’ to death, I found an old building near the beach that took in homeless people. It had about two dozen beds, and it looked like it needed a cleaning person. I saw an old lady at a desk, and I lied and said, “I lost my mom, dad, and sister because they were killd' in a car accident back in Mississippi. And I am wonderin’ if I could help with the cleanin’ around here and maybe get a bed and some food.”

She said, “Mississippi, huh? You sure do sound like you’re from somewhere in the South, and, of course, we do need some help. And for that, we can find you a bed and some food.” She was not just kind; she went into action and found a nice old man who told me to follow him as he pushed a walker toward the dining area. He asked me my name, “Danny White,” I said. The ‘Danny’ was true, but I wasn’t about to tell anyone my real last name. 

I stayed there for about two weeks and really liked it. I was the only single kid there–and that was okay too, because I wasn’t ready to mix with nosy other kids. The old people minded their own business. After a while, a woman came to the shelter and wanted to see me. Her name is Claire Danley, and she has a nice smile. She said she was a social worker in San Diego County and kept track of homeless people, especially children. She stated that she could not locate a missing child named Daniel White anywhere in the United States. I told her my name was Danny, not Daniel. She said she had also looked for that name, but she did find a Danny Sherman-Lee, a missing boy who lived in Flowers, Mississippi. She asked me if I could possibly be that boy?” I wondered who reported me to the county, but I was sure no one would tell me. Old people never tell kids anything. They think all kids are stupid.

Anyway, I shook my head, and she said, “Well, whoever and wherever that boy is, I’m guessing he had a good reason to run away. I called that family, and the dad, Robert E. Lee, can you believe it?”

I could because that was the name of the old bastard who called himself my dad.

She went on, He said, “Well, we do have a boy named Danny, and if you find that little shit, you beat the tar out of him and I’ll fly out there to the coast and I’ll bring him back home where he belongs.” And then, he added, ‘By God, I’ll take care of him in more ways than one.’”

Now, Danny, you do have quite a drawl, and you are the same age as that boy in Mississippi. So, please tell me your correct name.

2.

“What’ll happen to me if I’m that guy? Will you tell that angry bastard I’m here?” I was shaking, and I’m sure Ms. Claire noticed. She seemed very nice, and I knew that sooner or later I’d have to come clean to someone, sometime, if I was ever going to find help for my mom and sisters. I’ve got to tell somebody, so I decided to take my chances with this kind lady.

She put her fist under her chin and said, “I’ll see what I can do.” I took a deep breath and then listened and answered her questions about my life here at the shelter. I told her that I was really worried about my mom and two little sisters. A few days later, she returned to tell me that the county would take care of me for now. She had talked with a social worker in Mississippi and was told that my dad was a deputy sheriff in one of the poorest counties in the state and that my dad had been reported as an abusive parent, but there was nothing they could do because of his position there.  I told her that, of course, I already knew that, and if I ever went back there, he would probably literally beat me to death. I added, " Ma’am, I know for a fact that he is a killer, because he’s killed a bunch of people in what he calls the ‘line of duty’ when really, they just bothered him, and he just hated their guts.” 

She then said she believed it was better if I remained in California. There was one warning she had to give me, and that was if I ever got caught breaking the law or hurting anyone, I would be sent back to Mississippi. In other words, I needed to keep my nose clean. She also said that she would see what could be done for Mom and my sisters.

And she added, “I’ve found a very good foster family in the county, in a nearby town named Monte Vista. I’ve known the family for years and I really like them. They have two young girls, ages 5 and 8, and their biggest concern is the safety of the girls. They are worried that you might hurt one or both when you get angry. I called the Mississippi social worker back, and she said that you had two younger siblings and had been hurt protecting them from your father, is that right?”

Damned if I didn’t get a face full of tears when I thought of Jacque and Susan, who were just about the same age as the girls in this foster home. Clair put her hand over mine, and I quickly pulled it away. She probably thinks I’m a baby. I said, “They are the reason I didn’t run away sooner, but I began to think that there was nothin’ I could do, so, well, I finally decided to get outta that hell hole before that bastard killed me.” I looked up at the social worker and waited for her to scold me for being angry and using bad language . . . Adults always sided with other adults.

3.

Claire surprised me, “I believe you did the right thing. I find myself worrying about you and your younger sisters, too.” She added, “I’ll ask the social worker there to see if they can do something. It sounds like your dad is a very dangerous man. So, I’ll need to be very discreet.”

I wasn’t sure what discrete meant, but I guessed it meant she was going to be careful.

While I was thinking about all this, I was lookin’ round the big playground as dozens of people kept coming in. Last week I was really impressed with these modern one-story buildings with windows all over the place – in every room one wall was all windows that went from near the floor to the ceiling and looked out at a flower garden and other similar buildings, and the other walls were painted in kind of a peach and cream color. And the front yard was full of flowers, as were the areas around the walks and the playgrounds. I liked it because it seemed open, colorful, nice, and, well, this sounds corny, it seemed like a warm kind of place.

It made my old brick and concrete school in Mississippi look like a prison.  My Mississippi school would fit in better with the neighborhood here, given its proximity to all the warehouses and empty buildings. This school building was like an oasis in this neighborhood. This morning, the school still looks warm, but it also looks chaotic with all these people hanging around, smiling, talking, and laughing.

A girl comes over to me. She is very pretty and is as tall as me, has a nice smile, and she’s dark-skinned. She holds out her right hand to me to shake. I’ve never in my life taken the hand of a dark-skinned person. What if she’s Black? I put my free hand in my pocket.

My other hand held my computer bag full of stuff. Still holding out her hand, she says, “I’m Ella Haloran, and I’m guessing you must be Daniel White. Is that right? And you’re scared of shaking the hand of a girl?” 

 “Yeah, but my name is not Daniel, it’s Danny. And I’m not afraid of girls,” I didn’t add, ‘But a Black girl? That’s something else again.’ I learned at the beach homeless shelter that you never should call a nigger, a nigger, but call him or her black.’ I said to the girl, “Why are ya lookin' fer me?” I’m sure I sounded kinda snotty, but I really had no idea why this girl, about my size and age, knew my name and all. I guess I’m more prejudiced than I thought, and now I’m getting tested. I just now realized I’d never been really close to dark-skinned people before in my life, even in that little town.

When I said I was not a racist, I was being a phony. When I was about five, my mom hired a black lady to help her when she was sick, and she was sick a lot. Especially after dad beat the hell outta her, she wasn’t really sick, she was wounded and recovering from the beatings, but she dared not tell anyone or dad would just beat her more and maybe even get fired from his job. Anyway, Mom told the black lady that she couldn’t bring her five-year-old boy to work because I shouldn’t play with black kids. I only met him once, but I really liked him. This girl, Ella, kept looking at me, and I asked her again why she was looking for me.

4.

She said, “Sam, our Tator, asked me to find you and help you get acquainted with our school. And you looked like you were a bit lost and were wondering what all these people were doing standing around in the school yard, so I came over to see if you were our new classmate.”  She spoke much faster than the students in my old school in Mississippi. She went on to say that the Tator, whatever in hell that is, probably asked her to find me because she had been new to the school two years ago. She ended her little speech with, “Are you as unfriendly as you sound?” She giggled a little and smiled.  

Didn’t that Tator guy know that I’m not Black like her? She talks like everybody else around here, not like a Black person. Reluctantly, I said, “I’m sorry for sounding so stupid. I’m not really unfriendly most of the time, but yeah, I do wonder what's going on. And what is a Tator?” Her smile helped me relax, and I hoped my smile would help her, too.

“Tator is short for facilitator, our personal coach and ‘sort of' teacher in our Human Development class. You and I are in the same class. We call our group our cohort. Our cohort has been together since first grade. There are ten of us – counting you – plus the Tator, Sam. Five of our fellow students have been in our cohort since first grade; two joined us in second grade, I joined in the third, and Joe Jackson joined us last year, and now you, which makes ten. So, welcome.” She put her hand out again, and I took her hand like it was a hot potato just out of the fire.

Suddenly, I was jolted nearly off my feet when a bunch of bells, like musical church bells, rang out through the loudspeaker, followed by a pleasant young female voice, “Good morning, fellow dreamers, and welcome back to school for the Fall semester. It’s time to get with the music presented by the Ragamuffins of the tenth grade. Their song is 'Getting to Know You,' from Rogers and Hammerstein, from earlier in the last century. Now, get with it.” 

Ella grabbed my hand and nearly dragged me over to the middle of the pack of people. My lord, here I am being led around the playground by a Black girl. What will people think? I thought about my dad and if he knew about this school, he’d probably bring his assault rifle and start killing all these heathen devils.

That thought almost made me like this school and all its craziness. I guess I gotta’ get my head on in a different way. I nearly fell over a little girl as the music blasted around us. I was so confused that I didn’t immediately realize Ella was holding the little girl’s hand and was reaching out to take mine. Ella shouted, “This is my little sister, Angie.” Ella nodded toward the woman holding Angie’s other hand and shouted, “And this is Jan, our mom, and this is my Grandpa Earnie Haloren, holding mom’s other hand.” The old Black man smiled at me, but I didn’t smile back. God, I’m such an idiot or something completely stupid. It looked like everybody knew the song.

5.

And they were singing and bowing toward each other while still holding hands. Two hundred or more people dancing around and singing ‘Getting to know you.’ It seemed crazy and, well, kind of fun too, I had to admit. As my idiot dad would say, “I felt as awkward as a whore in church.”

We danced and sang several other songs. I later learned that some of the students at this school wrote them. They were fast and joyful, and I almost let go and enjoyed dancing to them. And I couldn’t help but wonder when the hammer was going to fall, and I would start hating school like I always did.

After the crazy songs and dancing, Ella again introduced me to her mom and sister. Her mom started walking her kindergarten sister. Angie went to her room and then left for her office. She is a pediatric dentist, a job Ella said she loved, but Ella said she’d hate it. Ella said her dad sometimes came to the morning dancing and singing, but he had to be at the UCSD faculty meeting. I thought it was weird that this black girl had both parents who were doctors. 

Wow!

I was surprised that after all the crazy dancing, all the students rather quietly and politely strolled into their respective buildings. Ella leads me down a long hall in one of the five classroom buildings. Thank God she let go of my hand as soon as we reached our building. We entered a small classroom where the one-armed, chair-like desks were arranged in a circle, and the single window looked out onto a flower garden. The windows must be one-way mirrors, because we could look out, but we could not see into other classrooms.

There were six students already sitting around our room – four girls and two boys. A kinda Mexican-looking grown man in a short-sleeved blue shirt was sitting near a whiteboard and talking to a girl in a wheelchair. She was as white as me, and I was beginning to realize that most, if not all, people in this school didn’t give a shit about what people, big and little, looked like; they were all just plain ol’ people.

School of Two Thousand Smiles–Preface

I started this, my fourth novel, 'School of Two Thousand Smiles,' around the same time I began my blog, creating a New World. I've tried doing both simultaneously. At 92, my energy for juggling a novel and a blog is waning. My focus now is singular: to pour every ounce of remaining creative spirit into completing School of Two Thousand Smiles. Patrick and I will share one chapter at a time for my loyal readers to review and suggest edits. We look forward to your feedback!

My school is a caring and happy place for children aged 5 to 12, as well as its staff and administrators. Teachers and maintenance staff genuinely care and enjoy spending time with kids. The staff know each other by first names, as time allows. Their main challenge is convincing kids to stay home when sick.

In the last half of the 20^th century. In the 1900s, an increasing number of women worked outside the home, either because they needed to cover family living expenses or because they wished to pursue a career. Many families consisted of one parent, usually the mother, caring for the number of children in the family. The number of divorces during this time increased, as did the children who felt anxious, depressed, and committed suicide. Children did not see school as a haven of creativity, learning, enjoyment, and a place where they were wanted.

Too often, staff, especially teachers, believe that students need to be 'made' to learn rather than enjoy the learning process. I agree with those educators who believe that children enjoy learning as long as they are engaged in the process. And, especially, they enjoy being with their peers and with teachers who encourage them rather than insist that they obey and conform to whatever the 'superior', aka adults, tell them to 'learn' and do. Children prefer cooperation and resent conformity.

They enjoy starting the day with 20 to 30 minutes of singing and dancing, with everyone in the school participating, including parents and grandparents. They enjoy creating and being with their new family-like cohort and the facilitator. Where they can discuss with others and their papa-like adult 'tator', and everything said is kept confidential. Everyone believes that people, big and little, are naturally good and loving beings.

Prepare to meet Ella, Danny, and their extraordinary fifth-grade teacher, Ms. Sam, as they embark on an unforgettable adventure at the School of Two Thousand Smiles.

Don Hanley & Patrick Ball

School of Two Thousand Smiles-Preface

PREFACE:

I started this, my fourth novel, School of Two Thousand Smiles, about the same time as I began my blog about creating a New World. I thought I could do both of them at the same time. At the age of 92, I find that I just don't have the time nor energy to work on both. I need too much sleep. I do wish to complete as much of the novel as I can, Please comment with your ideas about an ideal K - 12 school and how my words can be better.

My School is  kind and happy haven for all children, ages 5 through 12. All staff, administrators. teachers, and even janitorial and maintenance folks love children and enjoy being around them. The entire staff go by their first names and know one another as well as time allows. Their main problem is how to get the kids to stay home when they are sick.

In the last half of the 20th. century - the 1900s - more and more women worked outside the home, either because they needed to to pay for the family living expenses, or because they wished to pursue a career of some kind. Many families consisted of one parent , usually the mother, taking care of whatever number of  children are in the family. The number of divorces during this time increased as were the  children who felt anxious, depressed, and committing suicide. Children did not see school as a haven of creativity, learning, enjoyment, and a place where they were wanted. 

Too often staff and especially teachers believed that students need to be 'made' to learn rather than enjoyed learning, I join with those educators who believe that children enjoy learning as long as they are involved in the process. And, especially, they enjoy being with their peers and with teachers who encourage them rather than insist that they obey and conform to whatever the 'superior', aka adults, tell them to 'learn' and do. They like cooperation and resent conformity. 

They enjoy starting the day with 20 to 30 minutes of singing and dancing with every one involved in the  school - even the parents and grandparents. They enjoy creating and being with their new  family- like cohort and the facilitator. where they can discuss with others and their papa-like adult 'tator' and everything said and everyone keeps things confidential. Everyone believes that people, big and little, are naturally good and loving beings.

Now I hope you will enjoy Ella, Danny, and their 5th. grade tator, Sam as they experience this School of Two Thousand Smiles.