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In the art room last Monday, I got my first taste of what the kids in Dorchester are like. It was my first official day, and I succeeded in making a girl cry, sculpting a clay whale, and bonding with a few kids who still remember my name. What I experienced that day also reinforced the points my boss made in an eye-opening conversation we had later the next week. I went into “art time” a little hesitant about how well behaved they would be, and if they would like me. As we were rounding them up, one little girl asked what the activity was, and when I said clay, she let out a big “Yayy!” and hugged my legs. With that small expression of openness and trust, I knew things were going to be alright.
As we walked over to the other building where the art room is, a torrential downpour started, and we were all shrieking and giggling as we got completely soaked. The giggling did not stop for the rest of the session. One girl lost a wheel from her shoe, dove under a chair to retrieve it instead of simply walking around it, and got stuck halfway through. Two boys started calling me “Katy Perry” because the back of my shirt said my volleyball nickname, “Petry, “ and that was close enough for them. In return I gave them the nicknames “Freddy” and “Tyrone,” which they thought was hysterical. They pulled me over to come sit with them, and we were teasing each other incessantly. “Freddy” at one point made a comment along the lines of, “Okay, so your names, Katie, you’re nineteen…what else do we need to know? Oh yeah, how tall are you?” like those were the three essential things to know about someone. The great cupcake catastrophe also took place in the art room that afternoon. “Sasha” was almost done with a clay cupcake sculpture that she was going to give to her brother, and had me finish the sprinkles when she left the room for something. She was dismayed when she got back that some of them were much too big, and when she tried to pull them off, it “wrecked” the cupcake irrevocably. She ran and hid behind the desk and started sobbing that this was “the worst day ever.” These were real tears, too, not the fake attention-getting tears that kids often try to pull. I comforted her, remembering how devastating things like that used to be, and finally coaxed her to make another one with me and we were best friends again. The next day I asked how her brother liked it, and she told me wryly in a what-can-you-do-about-it tone that she tripped and dropped it, and an ice cream truck ran it over. Earlier this week, I had about an hour and a half conversation with my boss Dave that began on the way to Staples, continued through our lunch break, and spilled over into his office. On the assignment list we are given for “week two,” it says to initiate discussion about social issues with staff. I wasn’t sure how that would go over, but one simple question sparked this whole conversation about the real situation in Dorchester, the best way to serve the kids, and effective business strategies among other things. Dave has made the point several times that our job this summer is to make sure the kids have a fantastic time. Simple as that. The kids are human beings, and should always be thought of as such. It’s easy to slip away from the basic mission of a Boys and Girls Club when you’re faced daily with administrative frustrations, many-strings-attached grants, and various legalities. It is also tempting to fall into a “save the poor children” mentality. The image of Dorchester that is promoted, and, granted, is true to an extent, is that of a rough, nasty, impoverished, criminal-ridden area. The kids I’ve worked with, and Dave has worked with for longer than I’ve been alive, however, are not bad kids who need saving. This is one of the points I was referring to earlier. Some do have very rough home lives, and some are on the wrong track. Many are very gifted in artistic and athletic areas. Many have a ready smile and hug. Many will go on to do great things. All are human beings. We are not here to “fix” them, but to provide them with positive opportunities and interaction with adults. Dave also made an interesting point about how the world is designed for adults, and kids really have the rough end. If an adult has a problem, they get angry and it is resolved for them. Kids have to put up with inconveniences. Homes, schools, and businesses alike are set up like this. A related issue came to mind as he was explaining this idea. A little girl in the game room got her feelings or pride hurt by another, I don’t remember how, and reacted by removing herself to a corner to cry. I had an internal debate on how to handle the situation. My motherly instinct was to comfort her, but at the same time I heard my dad’s voice in my head instructing me not to reinforce such manipulative behavior. Kids have to learn that they can’t just go cry every time they have a problem. Do I reason with her to get her to see it’s not really a big deal? Do I tell her to be the bigger person? Do I just hug her? Or do I ignore her? During my talk with Dave, I wondered about why kids ever even need to be broken of that habit. If we weren’t a fallen race, children’s/people’s feelings would never be hurt. And if they were, the solution certainly wouldn’t be to teach them to “toughen up.” The automatic response would always be compassion. I don’t know the answer to this; it’s just a point to ponder. This week I haven’t had much interaction with the kids. Last Friday Dave set the summer program in front of me and said, “This will be our enemy in the coming week.” His words proved prophetic as we struggled to coordinate sixteen teams through a daily rotation, work in field trips, and schedule dozens of staff members. Miraculously, everything came together today, and we are prepared for an influx of two hundred and some odd kids Monday! Congratulations if you’ve stuck with me this long. You’re tolerance for boredom is far above average. J Some parting words~Rejoice in the Lord always! I shall say it again: Rejoice! Philippians 4:4 |
