A Montessori educator once told me that "children learn to share out of plenty, not out of want." I'm sure there are competing psychological theories out there about this sort of thing and lots of counterexamples of folks with next-to-nothing still finding enough to share. Just the same, it was a maxim that I took to heart.

One way I have tried to put the theory into practice is in my organization of classroom materials. All the supplies students need are in abundance, available for the taking, organized and replenished as needed, but otherwise unmonitored*. I just don't believe in rationing pencils. It seems wiser to me to teach children stewardship through example and by giving them actual opportunities to practice it.

Our faculty meeting today suggested that my stance on supplies is, well, shall we say, slightly different from the other teachers'. I won't even go into the whole conversation about whether or not a kindergartener should be able to make a pack of 16 crayons last a whole year. (Although if you're interested, the consensus seemed to be that it shouldn't be a problem, especially if the crayons were the fat kind, unless the child was 'wasting wax.')

The real eye-opener was the principal's announcement that the *teacher* supply closet was going to be monitored! If I want construction paper or whatever else they supposedly have in there, I have to fill out a request and give it to the lead teacher the day before.

This struck me as so...wrong!...that I really wanted to say something. But I refrained because I had already made the point, a few moments earlier, that the new rule that all copying would go through the Approved Copy Machine User seemed a bit restrictive. The rule was instituted in response to "somebody breaking the machine all the time because they don't know how to use it." I suggested training, and added that it was a copy machine, not a space shuttle, and as college-educated professionals surely we could all learn to use it appropriately. The principal said she "heard" me and she would consider training. Some of the other young teachers gave me looks that said they were glad I spoke up. But the veterans objected. "When somebody breaks the machine we all suffer. If we just have one person to use it, and it breaks, then we know whose fault it is." And this sentiment seemed to carry the day.

I'll set aside a discussion of the possibility that the 'fault' really lies with the fact that schools are routinely forced to make do with substandard copying equipment that is simply not powerful enough to handle the capacity required. And I won't comment on the mentality that we should be worried about who to blame when equipment fails.

Larger issues, ones that will definitely be with me throughout the school year, are betrayed by the restriction of teachers' access to the basic tools needed for their job. One is that faculty members are not thought of, or thinking of themselves as, professionals. Also, clearly the principal does not trust her staff. I'm not sure yet whether the staff is trustworthy or not, but I will appeal to another favorite maxim of mine: People who are treated as though they cannot be trusted become untrustworthy. I know I'm already becoming a shady character who plans to sneak onto the copy machine after hours, and I'm contemplating breaking and entering the supply closet...

*All the supplies except for the thumb tacks. My deeply held belief in the goodness of children has some practical limits.