Walking towards the address, I could not distinguish the school from the surrounding office buildings. Only a sign pointed me in the right direction. The entire school was centered in one building. This was very different than the experiences of my childhood. My elementary school had vast playgrounds and a series of classrooms looking out into school gardens and a city park. Although, this was not a typical school building the classrooms had the materials required for student success. Every classroom was equipped with alphabet mats and posters emphasizing scientific and historical concepts or events. They were inviting and surrounded with proud student work. In the hallways, there were paper mosaics completed by students.
Taking a tour of the building, I was surprised by the specialization teachers. There was a music and art teacher and on Wednesday afternoons dance instructors embarrassed pop culture. The emphasis on performing arts was surprising considering the cutting of such courses throughout California. While the excelled in their area, there is no library and a tiny playground. The playground is packed with students running into each other and getting routinely injured. The school currently has plans to expand the playground area.
On my first trip, my experience of classroom life extended to peering through windows and being introduced to teachers. I had no grasp of the level of education being taught. From the classroom environment and setup, I felt that I was unneeded. All they wanted me to do was stuff letters and file. They felt their students did not require my assistance. The previous day, I was talking to one of my friends who volunteers at CentroNia. The students cannot read or comprehend where they live. I had the intention of entering a rundown school that desperately needed the assistance of tutors. This was not the case; I left convinced that I would never return. Why should I be helping these children, when so many more need my assistance?
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