5 Minute Freewrite: Stetson

I glanced back at the line of kids trudging in single-file behind me. Closest to me was Imani, the quiet one. The other kids had been making fun of her midnight-dark skin, calling her “Africa” like it was a bad thing. I had no idea that even here, with my classroom group of 14 urban, black students, that kids would still make an issue of the variations of their skin. I sighed. She looked a little downcast--I could tell it was not the first time.

Behind her walked sprightly Savannah, making up silly rhymes about mustard, the snow, my bookbag--anything to make her best friends laugh. They kicked at the snow in time to her sometime-brilliant-sometime-nonsenical poetic rambles.

Clutching his arms tightly to his chest, following behind her, was Jamareon. He had carefully lined his sneakers with plastic bags, like his dad had showed him, so that the wet snow wouldn’t seep through his shoes as quickly. He glanced up at me as I looked down the line, trying to hide the fact that he was uncomfortable being out in a place so far from home.

At the back of the line, with Ranger Pam bringing up the rear, was a knot of the boys, dragging their feet and looking tired. Lavonte audibly groaned. They were not into this Hiking-In-The-Woods thing, I could tell.

But we were almost to the point I had been looking for. These kids had been hiking in the woods with me for the past three days, learning about terms like “Biodiversity,” “Watershed,” and “Sustainability.” Though one might have thought that these inner-city kids, with no experience with the outdoors beyond their debatably-safe neighborhoods, would have balked at having to spend time in the National Park with me, the truth was, they were soaking it up. For the most part, they had listened, participated, and asked enthusiastic questions. I wanted to give them a little surprise, as a thanks.

I glanced up at Ranger Pam, and she smiled, snow dripping off the edge of her Stetson. She knew what was up--she was the one who had introduced me to this hill--and this idea-- in the first place. “Circle up, everyone!” I shouted, drawing the students to the peak of the snowy hill. “We’re almost done with this hike--just through those trees, we’ll get to the lodge and warm up. But first, we need to do something very serious. You need to follow my example closely.” I looked up gravely, and even the boys in the back looked over with interest. I shrugged off my backpack, tightened my scarf, and set my chin.

Suddenly, I threw myself to the ground and rolled down the hill, coming to a safe, soft landing in the snowdrift below. “YOUR TURN!” I shouted to the shocked group.

“Wait...we’re allowed to do this??” Tyrell asked Ranger Pam. She threw off her iconic hat and nodded, rolling down the hill behind me. The group needed no further encouragement.

Within an instant, the hill was filled with peals of laughter and the sound of children running up steep, slippery slopes. In that instant, it didn’t matter where they were from, how dark they were, what kind of homes they would have to return to at the end of the week, or what sort of life the city had doled out on them. In that instant, they were just kids being kids.

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Thanks to @mariannewest, as ever, for hosting the freewrite challengeand prompts! Full disclosure--I took a little longer to finish this one than the 5 minutes, but the memory was too good to stop. :)

This is a totally true story, though I changed some of the students' names. When I worked in a National Park in Ohio, I tried to make those hikes with the kids both educational...and fun. So many of them had never rolled down hills, skipped rocks, or even sat on the ground (I'm serious). The photo on top is obviously not in the winter, but one of my favorite places that I would take the kids exploring. The Ranger in the photo below is Ranger Pam, my mentor during those two years and a truly wonderful lady.

I didn't become a ranger after all, but I still think those hats make them look SO DANG COOL.