In a Changing World, Five Women Offered a Reassuring Constant

An era ended in a corner of Santa Monica last Saturday night. While celebrities may have been lingering over dinner at the Main Street bistros, more than 100 of us were on hand for cookies and punch. Foam cups, paper plates.

Schoolgirls, parted from their blue jeans for the evening, came in dresses; boys tucked in their shirts and combed their hair.

The guests of honor--all five of them--wore corsages. Each spoke of her “blessings” and “joy.”

That’s how it’s been for a long time at the First United Methodist Church of Santa Monica Nursery School: unpretentious, conventional, but pretty darn happy.

Jean Shelby, Jan Ellis and Emma Candow were hanging up their poster paints. Debbie Wild and Tina Luis were moving on to new challenges. Together they had taught 89 years in the classrooms and on the play yards at First Methodist.

Sometimes change seems the only constant in modern life. In the blink of an eye, doughnut shops have yielded inexorably to yogurt shops, which become coffee bars, only to be remodeled as cigar parlors. Last month’s hot actor may be this month’s drug rehab patient. “Good” high school students suddenly and inexplicably go “bad.”

Through it all, though, Yankee Noodle and Roundup casserole kept coming for lunch at First Methodist. As surely as Thanksgiving follows Halloween, the orange jack-o’-lanterns and black cat cutouts were

followed home by the handprint gobblers. (Dip your hand, fingers spread apart, into poster paint and press onto paper. Let dry. Draw a beak and wattle on your thumbprint; the remaining fingers become the plumage.)

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Jan Ellis, 61, started dishing out lunch in 1971. She began as a part-time music teacher and spent her last four years as the nursery school’s director. She remembers names and stories about children long after they have moved on to elementary school. Everyone gets a hug from her, especially the shy boys. Her enthusiasm, whether for dinosaurs or a handmade treasure, is boundless and undimmed by the years.

Jean Shelby, also 61, a quietly graceful presence, first began cutting up craft supplies in 1981. Her husband is First Methodist’s the Rev. Donald Shelby, who plans to retire next year.

Emma Candow came in 1978; the nursery school helped fill the hours after her husband died. Now 80 and still smiling, she has been what one parent Saturday night called the “beatific countenance” on the bench near the sandbox. Her ample lap was always free for a weary child and always comforting. Mrs. Wild and Mrs. Luis have been warm and skilled teachers.

Together, they eased separation fears, bandaged scrapes and mirrored and channeled the exuberance of thousands of preschoolers. They’ve led more choruses of “Dino the Dinosaur” and “Thank You, Pilgrims” than any sane adult can contemplate.

On Saturday night, about three dozen of their alumni--ranging from 5-year-olds to adults--got up on stage to serenade them, even if most couldn’t remember the words anymore.

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Waves of child-rearing advice have crashed against the shores of the First Methodist Nursery School since it opened its doors half a century ago: Dr. Spock, Penelope Leach, Dr. Brazelton and Dr. Ferber and his sleep theories.

But while generations of parents have been whipsawed by admonitions to indulge the inner child, to set firm limits, to discipline and not to discipline, the First Methodist regimen under these women has held steady: You could not wear T-shirts with action figures. You had to ride tricycles counterclockwise around the yard. You had to at least taste everything on your lunch plate if you wanted dessert. A nap followed lunch. Those who couldn’t fall asleep had to lie quietly while others napped. (Back rubs were provided for the fidgety.)

First Methodist is made to order for working parents, operating a full-day program for nearly the full year. But this is no grim kiddie warehouse. On Saturday night, teary-eyed alumni parents spoke of the magic of the “Big Room,” where the team of Mrs. Ellis and Mrs. Candow so long presided with the pre-kindergartners. Many mornings, dressed for work and running late, we parents found ourselves lingering. The silkworms might be spinning their cocoons; a pile of those green plastic tomato baskets could become Easter baskets. Story time was near.

Soon, a new director and some new teachers will take their places at the lunch table and in the nap room. First Methodist is, if anything, enduring. The blessings from those women will remain ours to keep.