Volunteers make room for learning

Last week I found myself out of a job.

I was replaced after a single, pleasurable term as a room mother at my daughter's elementary school. There are so many volunteers that there's a rule forbidding room parents from serving consecutive years.

Phooey. There go the Valentine's cookies and field trips.

Then it occurred to me that there might still be a place for a perfectly fine, slightly used room mother. And that there might be others like me out there, with empty ovens and (slightly) open schedules.

So I called Miriam West, director of the Cincinnati Youth Collaborative's volunteer project. Could Cincinnati Public Schools use some room mothers, I asked? Could they ever, she said.

People never seem to notice, as they're criticizing test scores or discipline rates, that one of the district's primary problems is lack of volunteers. Many schools have only a handful of parents or grandparents donating their time.

The issue is poverty, not indifference. Many Cincinnati parents have to hold down a job, or have young children at home and can't afford a babysitter. They don't have the luxury of steering the mini-van into the parking lot, hanging out in the classroom, furnishing extra supplies.

So there are plenty of schools where the teachers have to provide Halloween treats. Where field trips are cancelled for lack of adult escorts. Where teachers rarely find a home-baked surprise or note of encouragement in their mailboxes.

Where principals, teachers and students wonder if the world has forgotten them.

And, of course, it has.

Until now.

One would be fine

They are not asking for tutors, mentors, philanthropists, committee members, organizers or reformers. They are asking for people who can judge Halloween contests, bake cupcakes for Thanksgiving, read stories once in a while.

And they don't care if you're not a parent. They would love to have room aunts, room uncles, room grandparents, room friends.

A visit once a month would be wonderful, but even a couple of times a year would do fine. Like room parents everywhere, you're signing up for a single year's commitment.

Everything's flexible. You can use your lunch hour to stop by for a party. Or you can just drop off cookies in the office and be on your way to work. You're invited to things like the end-of-the-year picnic. And if there's no end-of-the-year picnic, you're invited to start one.

Valud beyond measure

Well, I'm not. Eight years of teaching and nearly a decade of covering education convinced me there is nothing as valuable as real people going into real classrooms to help real children.

Frankly, I'm tired of fancy programs that come and go like Metro buses. And I'm slightly offended by people making grand pronouncements for or against Cincinnati Public Schools without ever setting foot inside one.

So I'm ''adopting'' two classes, a kindergarten class at Hays and a second grade at Washburn. I plan to be there for the Halloween parade at Hays. I'm offering to help make classroom materials at Washburn. And I'm leaving some space in my 2007 and 2009 calendars so I can go to these kids' graduation.

That's what room parents do.

If you have enough time to bake a plate or two of cookies, enough patience to help little hands open juice boxes, enough concern to learn the names and ice cream preferences of 20 children, you qualify. And there's no waiting line.

There are 120 spots to fill, and 60 teachers hoping someone fills them. Please join me. This much we can do.

To help

Published Sept. 21, 1996.