Part 19 - May 21 The University Greenhouses

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Nancy, Helen, and Frank watched Carl and Sam walk away, then continued on toward the dorm accompanied by the children. Nancy and Helen kept watch on the older girls, who insisted they could take care of the babies and the toddler. The women would have to pry the babies away from the girls from time to time to check on them, but every time the women checked, they became more concerned for the older children than the younger. The girls needed to spend more time with their friends. Nancy knew the girls were avoiding their emotional pain and fears by distracting themselves with the babies, but she also needed all the help she could get. Nancy continued to have her inner argument of sheltering the children or making them face reality when Helen broke into her brooding thoughts.

“Well, I guess we’ll need to get this group into a daily routine. I think we should start with some chores—straighten up the dorm, make beds, then laundry when we have laundry, of course—and then lessons. We will need some kind of after-school activity.” Helen ticked off the list of daily activities.

Nancy stopped and stared at the woman. “Lessons?” she said to Helen. “I don’t know where to start, Helen. What do I teach them? Jeff and Larry want to run the food court—well, their families both ran successful restaurants, and the boys do have some practical experience. But that leaves over 188 children who have no idea how to survive. I am starting to realize how very right Carl was, but I have no idea where to start. I was winding down the school year, and the children were getting ready for summer break.”

Frank and Helen listened to Nancy patiently.

“First,” Frank said, holding up one finger, “you are not alone.” He let that statement hang between them for a moment. “Second, lessons this summer will be planting and tending gardens and taking care of farm animals,” Frank said. “We”—he motioned at himself, Helen, and Nancy—“have to teach them to take care of themselves. You have to learn to ease up on that overprotective control of yours. You are the proverbial mother hen.” Frank smiled warmly. “Momma, you have to let those chicks go.”

“I don’t know how,” Nancy whispered.

“We’ll just have to take it day by day, Nancy. None of us have any experience with this kind of situation, but together we’ll figure it out.”

Nancy clenched her teeth. There it was again—teach them to take care of themselves. It was what she had to do, but she just wasn’t ready. Nancy had always prided herself on being a teacher who looked to her students’ needs first, and this time she was putting her own needs before her children. She knew at that moment what had to be done and resolved to do what she had been trained to do: teach. This was a university; information was stored here, and she should be able to find that information and use it to teach these children how to survive.

As they continued across the street to the dorms, Tim caught up with them.

Nancy turned. “Good morning. Have you had breakfast?” she inquired.

“I’m good. Carl made sure I ate. There’s a small kitchen in the agriculture building. Carl made eggs and toast for us, and I had a bowl of cereal too.” He looked at Nancy sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to stay there instead of the dorm. I’m just more comfortable with Carl than I am with the little kids.”

“I don’t mind, as long as you’re safe. The children can be very demanding. Believe me, I know.” Nancy smiled, reinforcing that she was comfortable with his decision.

When the group reached the dorm, Helen and Frank organized the girls to clean up the first floor, and Tim and Nancy took on the boys to clean up the second floor. After beds were tidied and the area had been organized, they all followed Frank and Helen out to the quad for a tour of the campus. Some of the children asked a few questions, but in general, many of them were frightened and withdrawn. The questions of “When can I go home?” had decreased a little; most of them knew there would be no going home, at least for the time being, but the five- and six-year-olds did not retain that factual knowledge over their emotional needs for very long.

Helen led the children to the middle of the quad where all the walkways intersected. She stood in the middle of a large circular mosaic compass rose, inlaid with brightly glazed bricks. The compass was the juncture of all the paths that crisscrossed the lush green quad. Helen pointed out the four points of the compass and explained that the buildings had been laid out in these four cardinal directions. She pointed to a large building with wide terraced steps leading up to the front. “The campus library has been set at the northern point, and the other buildings are arranged at east, south, and west. The walkways that crisscross the quad provide traffic access from building to building for students to move between classes. The quad provides a place where students can gather for events or just sit in the sun to visit with other students, study, or play.”

Helen continued somewhat robotically to explain, “The steps of the library were designed to be used as an open-air stage, which is referred to as the library stage, and the stage is flanked by two majestic English oaks. Many events are held on the quad, and during graduations, the students will enter the library stage from behind the east oak tree, receive their diplomas, and exit behind the west oak tree.”

“Basically, a quad is an open green space surrounded by buildings,” Helen added. She went on to identify each of the buildings surrounding the quad. She had the children turn from the north point, which faced the library, then directed them to face east where the biology and botany buildings sat. Helen then pointed back to the main entrance arch to the quad, positioned between the biology and botany buildings. “Across the main street that enters the campus is where our new agricultural and veterinary colleges are located.”

Helen then had the children turn to the south of the quad and pointed to the chemistry and pharmacy buildings. “Those buildings are off-limits to all of you; there are chemicals and equipment that could be harmful to anyone who is not trained in the correct use or handling of those materials. Now, behind those two buildings, you’ll find the geology, molecular biology, and computer science buildings.”

Finally, Helen had the children turn one last time to the west. “On this quadrant, you’ll find the mathematics building and the administration building. But one of my favorite sights that I’d like to show you is our newly renovated fishpond. So, if you will all walk toward the southwest corner, I’d like to show you the fishpond.”

“Mrs. Helen, do all colleges have a quad?” a fourth grader asked.

“No, but many do. The quad serves as a location for students to gather and enjoy the outdoors,” Helen explained.

“You mean, like a playground?” a little blond girl asked.

“You might say that.” Helen beamed at the child. “But the quad serves as a location for many activities and groups to gather too. The Astronomy Club meets here at night to view the stars and planets, the Green Earth Movement sets up periodically to rally to continue to keep our planet clean, but most of the time the quad is used as a place for students to just relax. The quad is much more than just a playground, dear.”

The group reached the fishpond and found the water feature spanned the entire space between the corners of two buildings, with a gracefully arched wooden bridge spanning the narrowed center, providing passage between the math and chemistry buildings. Winding pathways surrounded the enlarged ends of the pond, weaving in and out of flowering shrubs. Helen allowed the children time to walk around the paths. At one point, the children had to walk up the arch of the bridge to gaze down at the large, colorful koi as they lazily swam from one end of the pond to the other. The fish, accustomed to being fed by people, would approach the children at the edges of the pond, making wet kissing noises with their mouths, begging for handouts.

When the children appeared to be ready to move on to something else, Helen announced that she had a job for them and called for everyone to follow her. She turned and started to walk directly back across the quad toward the center circle, then continued on toward the zoology building.

Frank had returned to join the group and asked, “Does anyone need to use the bathroom?”

“That’s a good point. Thank you, Frank,” Helen said. “Each building has bathrooms on the first floor. If anyone needs to use the bathroom, just let me know.”

Several of the smaller children indicated they needed to make use of these facilities, so the group filed through the entrance of the zoology building, and lines formed outside the bathrooms.

While the children who had finished first waited for the others to come out, they roamed the lower hallways of the building, looking at display cases exhibiting specimens and electronically interactive posters explaining various topics of ongoing research.

“Hey, this poster is about the little owls they found up in the mountains around our home,” one of the fifth-grade boys said, pointing at the electronic poster. The child activated the poster, which played a prerecorded explanation about why it was so extraordinary to find these owls living in this forested area. A graphic of the scientist collecting data scrolled past.

One of the third-grade girls pointed. “Excuse me, Mr. Frank, isn’t that Miss Sam?” The other children crowded around to watch as the scientist explained her research and demonstrated how she collected information on the small owls.

Frank strolled over to the poster and smiled down at the girl. “Yes, that is Dr. Jorgenson.” He looked at the poster. “Humph! Looks like the solar backup in this hall is working too.”

“Wow, does that mean that Miss Sam is a real scientist?” the little girl questioned.

Helen smiled and nodded. “You can ask her about her work if you want to know more about what she does. I’m sure she would be happy to tell you all about it.”

Frank tenderly put an arm around his wife and gave her a gentle hug, then announced that he needed some volunteers to walk down to the sports center and help him bring back equipment. Several children raised their hands, anxious to go. Nancy looked over the volunteers and chose Tim and four of the older, more reliable children she recognized from her own previous year’s classes.

As Frank and the volunteers left, many of the remaining children bombarded Helen with requests to go back to the fishpond. Helen blinked in confusion, then smiled vacantly. “When we finish our tour, we’ll return to the quad and you will have time to relax before lunch. Now that everyone is done at the bathrooms, I have a job for all of you.”

Helen led the way around to the back of the zoology building and onto a side street, where four large greenhouses dominated the opposite side. Each greenhouse had a numbered placket above its door. Helen led the group directly to greenhouse number one. “The last person in must make sure the door is securely shut,” she called back to Nancy, then disappeared inside.

The air in the greenhouse was warm and humid as Nancy held the door open for the children. She could feel the warm, moist air wash over her. She considered how lucky they were that the temperature outside was comfortable, since most of the children had not brought their coats. One more thing to remember—they would all need clothes for inclement weather.

As the children filed into a high-domed tunnel, their little faces turned up to gape in amazement at a tall, dense jungle that filled this end of the greenhouse. Nancy watched from the door as they all filed down a narrow, winding path, which disappeared around what appeared to be a banana tree and into the dense foliage beyond. She could hear the soft exclamations of “Wow!” and “It’s really warm in here,” or “Ooh, look at that!” The continuous murmured stream of oohs and aahs drifted back as the line of children followed Helen deeper into the jungle.

Nancy shut the door and followed the group, watching their little heads whip around, taking in the sights of the many unfamiliar botanical specimens. Their little feet softly crunched on the pea stone of the path as they slowly progressed through the carefully cultivated tropical forest. Nancy smiled as she watched the girls, their eyes wide in amazement at the multitude of rare flowers in bloom. She reluctantly reminded the children to keep up with the group, as she found herself slowing to take in the sights.

“All right, everyone, don’t get lost,” Helen’s voice called from ahead. “Stay on the path.”

Nancy kept the group moving until the path opened onto a large, open area. The clearing was set up with work tables arranged in rows like desks in a classroom. Beyond the workbenches was a slightly raised platform with a large workbench in the center. Helen led the group between rows of tables and up to the raised platform at the far end of the clearing.

“This group is a little big for this classroom, but I think we can manage. Most botany classes don’t exceed 120 students, so if you sign up for this class, it won’t be this crowded,” Helen explained.

Helen stepped onto the stage and walked over to the large work table, which was covered with tiny plants growing in large rectangular trays. The children craned their necks to see. Nancy quietly walked through the crowd, instructing taller children to let shorter ones near the front.

“Now, if I can have ten volunteers,” Helen said. Nancy quickly pointed and counted off ten older students and motioned for them to join Helen on the stage.

“I want everyone to pay attention as I demonstrate this process. This is very simple, but it does take a little practice,” Helen spoke loudly so those in the back could hear. “I’ll instruct this group on the correct procedure to transplant these seedlings from these large starter trays into these six-cell trays, called six-packs.” She held up a rectangular container with six connected square cups. “After I show these ten students, they will then show ten other students, but I want everyone to listen as I explain the steps.”

Helen smiled and turned her attention to the ten students who had stepped up to the workbench. “Alright, if each of you could pick up one of these six-packs.” She held up the plastic container to show the children what she was referring to.

Someone snickered. “I’ll take a six-pack,” a boy said.

“All right, pay attention,” Nancy scolded. “Be polite, please.”

Helen demonstrated what she wanted the children to do. “Now fill the six cells with this potting soil, level with the top of the tray.” She waited while the children on the platform repeated the process. “Now gently tap the six-pack on the table to ensure that the soil is settled into the bottom of each cell. Next, you’ll very carefully transplant six of these seedlings from these starter trays into the six-packs. Just watch closely—this is the hard part. You very gently take hold of one of the little leaves.” She gently held the tiny plant’s leaf between two fingers while she carefully teased the roots out of the soil with a rigid plastic plant label. Holding the plant up with its exposed roots for the children to see, she continued, “Next, make a hole in the soil in one of the cells in your six-pack with your plastic label, and then gently lower the roots into the soil.” She demonstrated, using the label she had used to lift the tiny plant out of the starter tray to make the hole in the soil. Then she gently lowered the dirt-covered roots into the hole and tucked the soil around the roots. “Now you try.”

She watched as the children tried to mimic her demonstration. Some of the tiny leaves broke off; some of the roots snapped or did not separate from the soil. After some failed attempts, each of the children on stage nearly mastered the technique.

“Now I want ten more children to come up on stage, and our first ten volunteers will take ten other students to one of the lower workbenches and show them how to transplant the seedlings.”

“I didn’t volunteer—you told me to come up here,” the boy Ryan quipped.

“And you so politely complied with my request,” Helen replied with a smile, verbally jousting back at the boy.

The younger children laughed at Ryan, but Nancy met the boy with a direct stare and a frown. The rest of the children tried to see what the older students were doing, but there were still too many students for everyone to get close enough to clearly watch as the next ten students attempted the task.

While the children on stage were working on perfecting the transplanting process, Helen turned to the younger students. “I want you all to divide up and stand by one of the workbenches down in the greenhouse classroom. Mrs. Jackson, will you please help these younger children get organized so there will be an even number at each bench?”

Nancy turned to the children. “Alright,” she said, stopping to count the benches, “let’s see—there are 24 benches.” She did some quick math and figured she needed four students at each table. She walked down the line, grouping younger children with older ones, and directed the older students to take their group to a table. By the time Nancy was finished organizing the children at each bench, Helen had started sending the next group of older children out to each bench with trays of plants to demonstrate how to transplant the seedlings.

“Helen, this is perfect,” Nancy told the older woman as they walked between the benches helping the children with their task. “But can the children successfully transplant those little seedlings?”

“Oh, there will be some plants that won’t survive, but this is a crop we can afford to practice on. As the children practice, they’ll get better at the process, and we’ll have a higher survival rate of the seedlings as we go along. Their little fingers, when trained, are perfect for this process.”

The two women continued to monitor the benches, encouraging the children and giving helpful suggestions. Within 20 minutes, almost half of the children had their containers planted and were asking what to do next with their plants.

Helen gave each child a new planting label. “Now put your name on this label and slip it into the soil in a corner of your six-pack.” She then turned to Nancy. “I’ll start leading the children into greenhouse number two through that side door.” She pointed. “There we will place these seedlings on a bench where they can continue to grow. Then we’ll move on to the next task.”

Nancy stayed with the group as they completed their task in the first greenhouse. The children’s curiosity grew about what was happening in the next greenhouse, and they hurried to finish so they could follow the rest of the group inside.

Nancy finally followed the last few children into the next greenhouse. This building was filled with row upon row of plants, all potted in six-packs. As Nancy walked down a long central aisle toward the center of the greenhouse, she noted that the plants in the six-packs were at varying stages of growth. She looked around and found that Helen had already moved on to the next greenhouse, but had left ten of the older students in charge of instructing the younger children on how to water and arrange their containers on a bench so they could continue to grow.

The older students then instructed each group to walk to the far end of the greenhouse, where a second team of children told them to pick up another six-pack of larger plants and take these into greenhouse number three.

Again bringing up the rear, Nancy followed the last of the groups into greenhouse number three, where she found Helen instructing each new set of arrivals on how to plant the larger plants from the six-packs into a larger area of soil in raised boxes. When the transplanting was finished, they were sent to the far end of the greenhouse to harvest a crop that was ready to pick.

By the time Nancy caught up with the main group, they had harvested enough lettuce greens for two or three meals.

“Wow, Helen, this would cost a fortune in the store,” Nancy exclaimed.

Helen smiled. “This is one of the easiest crops to grow, but it’s a tedious and time-consuming crop to pick and clean. But again, these little fingers are the best tools for the job.”

As they were leaving greenhouse number three, the boys asked Helen where the campus cafeteria was.

Helen smiled at them. “Let’s get these greens into the refrigerator to keep fresh, and then I’ll complete the tour of the campus.”

The group walked back to the quad and waited while Helen and the older students carried the large pans of freshly picked salad greens down to the food court refrigerator.