ONE LAST TRY By Teresa | leaned forward Fifteen happy kids greeted me. “Hi Sandy,”"’ they called out. “Hi kids,’ | said cheerfully, stepping into the room. The kids turned back to what they had been doing. ‘Hullo Sandy,’ Ernestine said slowly in a soft flowing voice. ‘‘Come sit down. Kinda cold t'day, isn't it?’ | agreed with her and sat down in one of the children’s small chairs. against the Mester wind, trudging slowly the last block to the old church. It was a cold, windy day in late autumn, and the sky was a mass of dark gray clouds. The weather fit my solemn mood. Today was my last day at Head Start, for tomorrow | was to begin volunteer work at a nearby hospital. This discouraged me. The wind blew through my long brown hair and whipped my coat open. | yanked it back into place. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ | told myself. ‘‘l tried.'' But had I? | began thinking about my job and why | was leaving. Head Start was a program set up for underprivileged four-year-olds before they entered public school. My job was to help Ernestine with the children in the afternoon class. These children had been taught little by their parents about life outside their homes, and it amazed me how little the children knew. | loved working with the kids but | felt out of place. The other teachers and aides had all been raised in the same surroundings the children were accustomed to, a life completely different from my own. At 17, | wasn't used to the sickness and dirt which was common among these people. | reached the church where Head-Start was held. It was a ‘‘U" shaped building made of dark gray brick, built about 1933, There was an odd smell around this block, like the stockyards and Out of everyone at Head Start, Ernes- tine was one of the people | would miss the most. She was one of the friendliest blacks | had ever met. She was a small person, quiet in her ways but always understanding. |! watched the children playing in the playhouse or with the blocks. They played happily and contentedly on a large brown rug which covered most of the room, | was sitting at the side of the room by a window..Above the children's voices | could hear it raining outside. Abruptly Ernestine turned to face me. “Lit’l Joe’s gonna miss ya.’ She put it to me like a question. Little Joe was my favorite and Ernestine knew it. | glanced at little Joe where he was squirming on the rug. He was little for his age, had black curly hair and big brown eyes. ‘‘Yes,’’ | agreed. ‘“‘I'll miss him too.” ‘Then why leave?’’ she asked me. The answer to her question flashed through my mind. The home visits to each child’s home was part of our job. |! remembered every detail of the one we had made the week before, the visit that had changed my mind about Head Start. It had been a sunny Saturday morning after a light rainfall earlier. Ernestine was anxious to make our last visit for the day. The other visits had been uneventful, just routine, but this one was differ- ent. We had never visited this home before and the child, a sickly white girl had spoiled food. | shuddered and walked up the cracked sidewalk and into the church. Downstairs | hesitated in the dim hallway before opening the door to my classroom. | really didn't want to go in. Then | relaxed. “It's my last day,’ | thought to myself. ‘‘Let's give it one last try.’’ | smiled as | opened the door. been absent for the last four days. The house was frame. Weathered white paint was peeling in strips from the sides of the house. A window was broken out. | could smell a stagnant foul odor before | had even reached the open front door. When we walked in | wasn't prepared for what | saw. If the smell was 20 bad inside the dark room, the sight was worse. Dirt, broken glass, paper, garbage, you name it, it was there. Yet, in the middle of the wreckage sat a baby. A dirty, skinny baby sat playing in the center of the. room. It didn't even look up. The smell and sight of the baby hit me hard. | knew | was going to be sick. | ran from the house and the next day | had asked for a different job. Ernestine brought me out of my dreaming. ‘‘Forget it Sandy. We've got a lot to do. MADISON By The soon home," he going | felt tears coming to ‘“Sure,'’ she said tomorrow.” in her soft voice. son?’ said the driver. ‘‘Are you going to school in Madison?” asked the man as a smile stretched across his chalky face. “I'll be a sophomore at the U. of W. this year."’ said Wess as he slumped down into the deeply padded seat. ‘‘Oh,"’ said the man as he eyed Wess’s faded pants and worn brown sweater. ‘‘| have a son your age, he looks just like you; did you stay in Chicago this summer?" ‘| stayed with some of my friends eyes. Suddlenly his face lighted up. ‘You'll take me home. Won't ya Sandy? Will ya Sandy? Please Sandy, nothing else matters!” | stood silently thinking. No, nothing else matters but you, Little Joe. And | can help you. | glanced at Ernestine who had been watching us. She smiled and waved us on. ya to the horizon The eastern sky was where the sun would rise. ‘‘Sure,’’ pleaded. my Taylor * “To Madison," said Wess. “I'm going that way too,” said the thin man, The door of the car squeeked as Wess opened it. “Can | put my pack in the back?’’ he questioned. His brown eyes filled with tears. ‘‘Papa’s gone away and mama never comes home. When I’m alone | get lonely.”’ Right then my feelings went out for Litte Joe. stretched Debby Wess Phillips walked beside the road. With every step gravel would crunch beneath his hiking boots. His shoulder length brown hair hung over his pack as he ambled down the highway. A blue car came toward Wess. Turning around he started thumbing. The car wizzed by and was gone from sight in an instant. He wondered where they were all going in such a hurry. The driver of a gray sedan started to slow down when he saw Wess. He rolled down the window and said, ‘‘Where you ' go highway without a bend. pink and orange For the next three hours | was constantly busy. Two of the children had to be sent home because they were sick. Darwin, a blue-eyed blond cried continuously for his mother.' The only other statement Ernestine said directly to me that afternoon was at snack time. ‘Better get more oranges,'’ she directed me. ‘‘For half these kids it’s the only meal they get from one day to the next.” | made sure they got enough. It hurt me to see the hungry eyes of the little children, At least it was time to go home. | was helping the kids with their coats when | noticed Little Joe just standing still holding a worn out green jacket. ‘‘Are you ready to go home?” | asked Little Joe. ‘| don’t wanna BOUND there,’ answered Wess. Not much was said for a long time. The scenery didn't lend itself to the conversation. The gray sedan pulled to the side of the highway. Wess got his pack and slid to the door and got out. ‘Thanks mister,” said Wess and flipped the man the peace sign. ‘‘See 21 SRR PEE EESEr ERTIES anne RENEE Ou rp en