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“I’m stupid," *Lylie, the eleven-year-old girl I tutor said, as we were playing outside one sunny Friday afternoon.

“Honey, you’re not stupid,” I replied alarmed. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I can’t read,” she said, her eyes downcast.

“You can read, Darling. Look how far you’ve come in only a year,” I reasoned with her. “Your classmates have been speaking English since they were born. Do they speak or read Swahili?”

If my arguments had any effect on Lylie’s self-image, I couldn’t tell by the look on her face. To her, being at a second-grade reading level only meant she was still three years behind her classmates.

Lylie wanted to be a doctor. Would believing she was stupid derail her dream?

Would being promoted to sixth grade only increase the gap and her feelings of shame? Would she get the attention she needed to catch up?

I contacted one of Lylie’s tutors, a retired teacher, to see what we could do. “What do you think about her repeating the fifth grade?” I asked.

“I like the idea, but the school has a policy: they won’t hold back ESL students,” she said.

I conceded it wasn’t very feasible. “Even if they would, with her brother going into fifth grade, she may just feel the pressure of competition with him and more shame.”

We had no solution.

One Friday, Lylie and her younger brother and sister and I were at the track running, playing in the sandbox, and turning cartwheels in the grass when a group of kids arrived with their teacher. One by one, they introduced themselves to Lylie and her siblings, then invited them to play and race with them.

When visiting Lylie at her school, I had been troubled to see her sitting alone in the cafeteria and on the playground. But Lylie and her siblings joined the children at the track in play immediately. The teacher himself was extraordinarily friendly. As he and I talked, I learned he and his students were from the nearby Sundrops Montessori school. The next time we encountered each other at the track, I learned more about the school. They had a student ratio of 14:1. The kids were organized into grade groups rather than grades, and students progressed academically at their own pace.

This school  sounded perfect for Lylie...

...a place where the lines between grades were blurred, where shame about being “behind” didn’t exist, and where students and their dreams were nurtured . 

I ran the idea by Lylie's tutor, the retired schoolteacher. She loved it. I wasn't even thinking about raising money, but she pledged $50/month on the spot. Her generosity took me aback. And it all seemed such a long shot—after all, private schools are expensive.

I contacted the school and discovered tuition was $12,000 and all the tuition assistance had already been given out for the coming fall. Where in the world would I get $12,000?

Then I got an email, inviting me to meet one of Sundrops' owners at the school.

Honestly, I expected rejection, but had to go for Lylie’s sake.At the meeting, Dave, the co-owner told me another Sundrops’ mother already knew Lylie’s family. This mother had an adopted daughter from Ghana and they had seen Lylie’s mom in African dress walking down the street with her baby on her back. They had pulled over, spoken with her, and even shared several meals together in the weeks that followed. "What were the odds of that?" I thought.

This Sundrops’ mom had already volunteered to pack Lylie’s lunch and send it to school with her own daughter’s every day for the next school year. 

I was also dumbfounded to discover Dave, the co-owner of the school, had already started another Sundrops Montessori school in Ghana, Africa! In fact, he had already traveled all over the continent and had fallen in love with its people.

At our meeting that day, when I inquired about the possibility of Lylie attending Sundrops, Dave asked,

“Why are you only asking for Lylie? Why not all her siblings?”

Flabbergasted, I sat in silence for a moment. “To be honest, it’s the money. I wasn’t sure I could raise even enough for one child for one year.” I said. I paused again, then acknowledged aloud, “Maybe my vision is too small.” His question, along with all the other strange “coincidences” made me begin to wonder, 

"Is God doing something bigger than I dreamed of?"

Dave then invited Lylie’s mom to visit the school. On her tour, she saw the bright, open spaces, the aquarium of colorful fish that greets students as they enter the school, the rabbits and other animals in the classroom the children themselves take care of, the gardens the children tend themselves, the mosaics lining the walls, the students’ chore chart, and the culture room, teeming with artifacts and photos from Africa.

She visited a second time with school in session and learned about the Montessori teaching philosophy. At Sundrops, students learn not only school subjects, but also time management, respect for self and others, and how to care for others and the world around them.

The elementary school children came for visitation day, along with all the other new Sundrops candidates. Their prospective teachers met them, assessed their grade-level and reading ability, and shared with Dave their own delight at the prospect of having Lylie and her siblings in their classrooms.

To my amazement, Dave expressed gratitude to me for bringing this African family who was living across the street from the school, to his attention.

When Dave asked Lylie’s mom if she would want her children to attend here, she responded with an enthusiastic, “Yes” All of this was coming together like puzzle pieces.

After a meeting with Dave, when I fully understood how real this gift was and the sheer magnitude of it, I went to the Whole Foods counter cried over my lunch as I gave thanks to God.

God was blowing my mind with His extravagant gift.

I had only dared to hope for some level of tuition remission for Lylie, but God had something much bigger in mind.

Now, Lylie’s mom has accepted for three of her children Sundrops’ generous offer of half tuition remission, an $18,690 value.

We still have a balance of $15,690 to raise for the coming school year.

Lylie’s family, like most refugees, have suffered various kinds of hardships and trauma before arriving in the U.S. A nurturing place like Sundrops Montessori will not only help the children achieve their academic goals, but also help them realize their own worth and heal from trauma.

Will you make a donation to our Refugee Tuition Assistance campaign to help three children attend this very special school? 

Learn more at www.OneMaker.com. 

*Names changed.

**Any funds raised beyond our goal for this campaign will be used to meet additional refugee assistance and benevolence needs.