I’m in school again.

It was as easy as saying “yes” to a request.

On my first day as a Reading Corps volunteer for the Detroit Public Schools, I’m greeted by a group of gap-toothed and wide-eyed five- and six-year-olds dressed in white shirts and navy blue slacks.

As their teacher guides me into the colorfully decorated classroom, I follow armed with orientation materials and weighted with expectations. The first thing I learn is that the plan has changed since my orientation. Week one, day one, the first minute of the first hour and things have changed.

So I set down my heavy folder, cast aside my expectations, and focus on the basics:

They’ve asked for help.

I’m here to give it.

“What do you need me to do?” I ask the teacher.

After a few minutes of discussion, we have a plan.

The first week, the school is a hive buzzing with activity. The middle school band warm-ups send waves of  toots, honks and thumps marching down the halls. Most of the elementary students are jumping around, shouting or eating pizza at a lunchtime dance party. We retreat to the classroom, where it is cool and quiet. The students here have emerged from a midday nap. I’m assigned three charming boys who are eager to please. They say “thank you” when I praise their efforts. We focus on the ABCs and trios of good guys (The Three Little Pigs) and one bad girl (Goldilocks). We burn a fast hour seated around a tot-sized table.

The second week is much quieter. The lunchroom resumes its utilitarian role.  We set up operations at a fold-out metal table while nearby a custodian cleans and polishes the tile floor. This time, I’m visited by two girls with beaded hair. We work on telling stories aloud by talking in complete sentences. We work on using the names for things rather than saying “this thing” or “that.”

On this day, my third week,  we all seem to be riding the same current. I remember to clip on my ID badge before entering the school. I remember to sign in and out at the office. The children arrive in groups of two or three, are dismissed and then replaced with a new group at the 30-minute mark.  If we hit a rough patch, I pause and remember this is about the basics.

After each session, the teacher asks me how her students fared.

Each week I wonder how I fared with them.  Did they learn anything in our time together?  Can one person affect change? Did I meet the goals the teacher laid out for me? In the long term, will our efforts help turn things around in this school district?

Sure, I have my doubts. Then I read this and know I have to try.

I’m in school again. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from these students.