This is the first in a series of articles comparing Fayette County's public and private schools.

By SALLIE SATTERTHWAITE
Staff Writer

What differences would a parent notice if she opted to pull her child out of public school and put him into one of the church schools now open in Fayette County?

For that matter, what differences would the student note?

From the outset, it should be understood that schools are too complex, too diverse even within a single system or community, to make generalizations that cover them all.

Children too differ so much in the way they fit into their world that even siblings may have vastly dissimilar experiences.

And in addition to those caveats, it should be obvious that there is no such thing as a typical school day.

Comparing a fifth-grade class in a public school with a fifth-grade class in a private church school is not exactly comparing oranges with apples. Still, navel oranges with mandarins may be as close as one gets.

There must be a difference, however, or private schools could not command the tuition fees they do. And parents must feel that the difference is worth the $4,000 or more per child per year they pay to church schools like St. Paul Lutheran in Peachtree City and Our Lady of Victory Catholic School north of Tyrone.

Let's sit in first on a class at Huddleston Elementary School in Peachtree City — a state School of Excellence as well as a national School of Merit. The principal here is Lynda Lambeth, who has been at Huddleston for 11 years. Her predecessors were Trigg Dalrymple and John DeCotis, both of whom went on to become superintendent of schools in Fayette County.

“That tradition stops here,” the diminutive administrator asserts. She wants to stay close to the kids, she says.

Classes at Huddleston run from kindergarten to fifth grade in a variety of configurations. The smallest class has 17 students, the largest 22.

In the lower grades, one teacher stays with one group of children in one room all day. In upper grades, two may team-teach classes that swap rooms several times a day. There are also a few “looping” classes in which the teacher will move ahead to the next grade with the class she taught this year. Lambeth said that while the arrangement of instructors is essentially random, parents' preferences are considered.

Several teachers job-share, one working two or three days a week, the other continuing with the same lesson plan on the remaining days. A “collaborative teacher” floats from class to class, augmenting teachers in certain subjects.

An early-arriving observer sees the schoolyard flag being raised by a couple of earnest-looking girls, who appear to take their job seriously but without ceremony. They have been recommended for the honor by teachers, Lambeth says.

She explains that Mondays are a bit hectic because it's the day students buy lunch tickets for the week in the lunch room. The system works — “We have not run out of food this year!” — despite a number of users that fluctuates from day to day.

If Mondays are hectic, it is not obvious to a visitor on a guided tour. The atmosphere in the halls is purposeful, organized, relaxed, and quieter than the observer remembers from her own school days. Nearly every child smiles at the principal, who responds by calling each by name.

The halls and rooms are almost cluttered by art displays, but pride is evident. Morale is further boosted during 8 a.m. announcements (which began this morning about 10 past) over the PA system. They run heavily to art class of the week, spirit winners, and birthday greetings.

Announcements are followed by the mandatory moment of silence — mostly — 45 seconds that students may do with as they wish, so long as they are quiet. On Monday, the song of the day, piped through the building, is “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The kids rise, some sing and some do not, and then, with hands over hearts, they say the Pledge of Allegiance.

Wednesdays and Fridays are different, Lambeth says, because the kids put on a live TV broadcast seen in every room via the school's closed system.

In the all-purpose room, the fifth-grade band is practicing. A student presides over the school “store-on-wheels” in the hallway, and in the media center, a display recognizes students who meet six-week reading goals and test well by computer. The emphasis, Lambeth says, is to identify at-risk readers early.

Public schools cannot, of course, provide religious training, but can teach positive character traits. A picket fence mural in one hall lists “Life skills”: courage, caring, initiative, organization, perseverance, problem-solving, common sense, sense of humor, friendship, pride and cooperation.

Similarly, on the wall of Lambeth's office is posted “School limits” which resemble a Scout pledge. To paraphrase: “I will keep others from injury. I will treat my family and others with respect. I will treat the property of others with care and not keep what does not belong to me. I will behave so as not to bother others, and will always be truthful....”

It's hard for a visitor to spot the teacher when entering Natalie Sanders' fifth-grade class. With long hair pulled back from her face with barrettes, she looks like a returning sixth-grader. This is her second year of teaching since graduating from Clayton College & State University. Math and science are her areas of greatest interest; she coaches her school's Science Olympiad team.

The 20 children in the room sit at desks grouped in fours or fives, and at this age, appear not to care whether their seat partners are boys or girls, black, Asian or Caucasian. Courtesy prevails: Sanders makes her wishes known in a soft voice or with a gesture or look, and invariably responds to her students' compliance with “Thank you.”

Sanders' class uses whiteboards and markers that remind one of the slate and chalk used in turn-of-the-century classrooms. To her invitation of “If you know it, show it,” whiteboards bob above young heads, allowing her to critique or correct today's lesson in fractions with a glance.

For a hands-on comprehension of what it means to add 5/8 and 3/4, Sanders has given each pupil a sandwich bag with eight small graham crackers. They'll be allowed to eat them after the lesson. Collaborative teacher Amy Legare roams through the room, helping keep on task one youngster who has discovered that his fingers taste good after handling the “fractions.” No one seems to notice when he copies answers others are waving in the air.

No bells ring, but at a prearranged time, Sanders' students put away their whiteboards and line up quietly to swap places with a class from across the hall. It's Cathy Beach's turn to teach them language and social studies.

The class has nearly finished a book about the friendship of a white lad and an Indian boy. The youngsters take turns reading aloud, as kids have for generations, and periodically pause to discuss the meaning of what they've read.

Then and now children can relate to rites of passage, Beach points out, whether in trapping skills, religious observances, or getting a driver's license. They discover that earning the respect of others was important even in the days when the first European settlers arrived and culture clashes were inevitable.

“Did my father take your grandfather's land?” the white boy asks his friend. The concept is beyond the Indian's comprehension: “How man own land?” he responds.

There are spelling words on the board: intricately, accuracy, thrust, wounded, nonchalantly, contemptuous. Vocabulary words include a few that will be repeated over the next few years with SAT tests in mind: persisted, poised, typhus, pewter, reproach, doleful, altruistic.

The overall impression of a visitor who has had no recent firsthand experience with schools is that teachers and administrators in public schools bring years of experience to the task at hand, and blend organization gently with confidence and good humor.

— Next week, a look inside St. Paul Lutheran School.