Is there anything more West Indian than Saturday afternoon lessons?

Caribbean people doh play when it comes to educating their children yes? We search high and low for the best schools that we can afford, can commute to and best fits our kids needs. We pull teachers aside to let them know that we are present and involved, slipping them our cell numbers with a whispered, “So call we if anything right?” We lecture our kids daily on the importance of an education to make it in the world today. And we figure there’s no such thing as too much learning so we sign our beloved pickney up for extra math, science, and reading classes. Delighted children around the region and throughout the diaspora rejoice at the thought of spending precious after-school or weekend time further pursuing their academic studies. 🤣🤣🤣 NOT.

 

My brother and I were swallowed by the lessons machine early in life. My mother’s best friend, Ms.B, a teacher who emigrated from Guyana to the United States in the early 70’s, spent her career teaching in New York City schools with predominately Caribbean / Caribbean-American student populations. She quickly developed a thriving side hustle providing extra-curricular tutoring to her students and the neighborhood kids. We were among her first pupils and none too pleased that our weekends were interrupted by additional schooling. But kids did not protest their parents decisions in those days. And so we quietly made our way to Ms. B’s basement classroom with 20 some odd other kids up to our necks in composition notebooks and photocopied worksheets.

Me, my brother, and the rest of the Saturday crew hanging out on Ms. B’s steps during a study break.

Ms. B is what one would call a character. I mean, she was a lot. Like, A LOT. She was very stern, very loud (both criticism and praise were doled out effusively and in her outside voice) and all the kids were a teeny bit scared of her. But she was very caring and genuinely wanted to help us be the best students we could be.

Which is why those study sessions were no joke. Sis did not come to play. We gathered in her Crown Heights brownstone every Saturday afternoon throughout the school year (and during the week in summers) to be drilled and tested on a variety of subjects. There were handouts, reading assignments, essays and mental math drills. Weekly tests were accompanied by either withering exclamations, ‘WHAT IS THIS!? THIS MAKE SENSE TO YOU? LIKE YU TURN DUNCE TODAY EH!’ or effusive praise, “YES [INSERT NAME HERE] ! THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE! EXCELLENT WORK MY CHILE! KEEP IT UP!”

And I loved it every minute of it. The schoolwork cuz I’m a nerd. But really the lessons were a small price to pay for another opportunity to hang out and socialize with a new circle of friends. Lunchtime was the best time. Kids of a certain age were allowed to walk to the corner to buy lunch from the local stores and chile! you couldn’t tell us we weren’t grown. LOL. Lunch was the highlight of the day. There was so much drama and so much fun had. And more than a few romantic crushes (sigh…Victor Valentine was mine. I wonder what ever happened to him…) Eventually I aged out of actual lessons and became one of Ms. B’s tutors.

All of it was sprinkled with Caribbean-isms that made the time uniquely special. Adults telling stories of what school was like back home and how easy we have it in comparison. Kids pulling out lunches consisting of curries and rotis with tamarind balls and mithai as a treat. My favorite were the variety of accents that floated through the air as parents chatted with one another when picking up their kids.

As with so many things in life, I didn’t appreciate the goodness of the moment until I got older. I now cherish the memories of those carefree school days.

 Did you attend extra-curricular lessons? What’s your favorite and worst memory of those times? Did you send your kids to similar prep classes? Why or why not? Tell me nuh!