Schmawkward

Update on Operation Enthusiastic Cupcake.

The operation is still in effect.  However, the execution of the plan has been lacking.  I had a stretch in September when I managed not to volunteer at all.  I was having trouble getting motivated to do much of anything.  But I have since started up again.

I now know just a handful of the staff names and they recognize me when I come.  I know Miss J, Miss L, Miss J and tonight I met Miss P.  I would bet they don't know my name. (If only a certain someone would send me my fabulous name tag - hint, hint!) 

It's funny that I seem to have the ability to learn and remember the names of the children very quickly.  By the end of each night I usually know 5-10 new names.  I do try to pay attention whenever I hear one of the staff use a child's name.  It is extremely helpful in getting the attention of a 2 to 6-year-old when you know their name.  "Hey, kid!" doesn't work so well.  Tonight there was L, L, A, I, P, and A.   I didn't get the names of three others.  But I'm not Rainman.  It is all short term memory.  I might remember one or two names if they still happen to be there the following week.  But more often than not, I need to be reminded.

I admit I have to work a little harder to remember the staff names.   And clearly, I need to ask more often.  I had a nice conversation a week ago with one of the women about how much I regret not taking Spanish in high school. (Stupid, useless French classes.  Monsieur Lawrence, je regrette tout!)   One of the young boys didn't understand anything I said, but this woman was bilingual and could communicate with him.  She encouraged me to learn. Said it's not too late. She's right.  We had a good chat.  But I didn't ask her name! 

Besides the four staff names that I do know, there are two women and one man who have been there frequently.  I should know their names by now, but I don't.  We are at that odd point where we have seen each other many times and we recognize each other, so it now seems awkward to ask them what their names are.  But awkward schmawkward - I just need to do it.  That will be my next mission.  Learn the names of any staff member who is working while I am there and introduce myself to them.

I also need to work on my friendly chatting skills. I am just not very talkative normally and it is not my natural inclination to start conversations with people.  I can do it and I am genuinely a pleasant person.  But it doesn't come naturally to me. So each time I go I have to remind myself to be more gregarious than my comfort level usually allows. I sometimes try to pump myself up by smiling maniacally while driving there from work. You should try it sometime. Force your face into an exaggerated grin showing as many teeth as possible and hold it there for a while. I probably look crazy but it helps me to feel goofy and loosens me up a little.

Schmawkward.  I just liked that word after I wrote it, so I used it as the title of this post.  It sounds like it should be the name of a German chicken in a children's book.  Schmawkward von Cluckenstuffer.  He gets into all sorts of mischief because he has a touch of Asperger's and has trouble relating to the other barnyard animals.

Poor Schmawkward.

This is actually a "Vintage 70s RIDICULOUS EGG HEAD Plastic Necklace Pack of 3" on sale at Etsy. 

It could be Schmawkward, though.

Oh Danny Boy

Friday night when I volunteered, I played with a number of the children.  But a 2-year-old named Danny* stuck out for me.

He was there last week and needed a staff person with him constantly.  He had trouble with hurting other kids for no reason.  Well...I'm sure he sometimes had his reasons.  He would reach out and grab and pinch other children or hit them.  He needed to be watched at every moment and redirected to do "nice touch."  This week he was much better.  He didn't need someone watching him like a hawk.  He still wanted to resolve problems by hitting, but he wasn't indiscriminately trying to hurt others.

He found a small rubber ball (too big to choke on.)  He began to throw it around the playroom and chase after it while it bounced crazily around.  I tried to get him to play a game with me of rolling it along the floor back and forth to each other.  He was hip to the game for about thirty seconds.  Throwing and chasing was much more fun.

At first there were not many other children in the playroom, so his throwing was moderately safe.  As more children came in, it became a bigger problem.  There was a very good chance someone would be hit with it and a few of the other children wanted to chase the ball too.  Danny got very upset if another kid went near his ball.  He's not very verbal so he screeches loudly to show his displeasure and gets close to throwing a tantrum.  We mediated a few spats and asked the older kids to let him play by himself.  But it kept happening.  And Danny was getting more and more ramped up.

I finally knelt down next to him and told him, "Danny, no more throwing the ball.  You can hold on to your ball, but there are too many people in here. So no more throwing, okay?"  He was wiggling and whining as I talked to him and I was aware that at his age, he was not able to fully understand what I told him.  He did stop throwing the ball for about a minute.  I was shocked it worked at all.

So, as is completely understandable for his age, he started throwing the ball again.  I made an executive decision.  I took the ball away from him and told him, "We are done with the ball.  No more ball."  Now that I write it down it sounds mean.  But it wasn't!  I said it as nicely as I could, but also firmly.  I wasn't going to give him a long explanation or try to reason with him.  It needed to stop and he needed it to stop.  He was getting really worked up each time another child tried to get his ball.  I took the ball out of the playroom and put it on a shelf in the kitchen area - in a different room, completely out of sight.

When I came back, he was throwing a small fit.  I tried to get his attention with some new excitement - "Danny, want to go play with CARS?!"  He kept screeching and throwing his fit.  I walked across the room and sat in a chair to give him time to calm down.  Then he surprised me.  He got up and walked over to me.  He sat himself in my lap and snuggled close to me while he cried. "Awwww, it's okay," I told him.

He was crying and snuggling, and he seemed to be agitated by the other kids being nearby and looking at him.  So I took him to a seat in a corner further away from the general chaos.  It hit me then what a shame it was that he had to be there.  At that moment, he really needed to be brought to a quiet room by himself to calm down from all the stimulation.  But it wasn't going to happen.

The center is just not set up that way or staffed for that.  Everything is a group activity.  Volunteers cannot be alone with the children.**  I have to stay where the staff people are.  From what I have seen, the staff rarely take children off  to be by themselves.  They are always together in a group (except when sleeping when there are only 2-4 in the same room.)  Each staff person usually has one to three children who they are mainly responsible for.  But they still do everything together.  It doesn't seem like they have a mechanism in place for one to say to another, "This child needs some quiet time. Can you watch my other two for half an hour?"  Unless a child is having a total meltdown and then he is taken to his room.  It's too bad they can't do it before total meltdown happens.

I could be wrong since I am only there a few hours a week.  But it seems that the overall thinking is geared towards the needs of the group and less towards the individual needs of the child.  And maybe it is impossible for it to be any other way?  (No.  It could be different.  So says know-it-all Kathy.)

So the best that Danny was going to get that night was a slightly calmer corner of a loud and boisterous room.  Poor kid.  He is safe there and will get so many of his basic needs met.  But he is one of many and lots of things will be overlooked.   He deserves to have someone who loves him looking after his individual needs.  I hope that happens for him soon.

*I never use real names.

**We have been given long, thorough background checks before we are able to volunteer.  My fingerprints were run by the state and the FBI.  But I do understand the policy of not letting volunteers be alone with the children.  With that age group, the staff has to constantly keep a count of children and can't have volunteers wandering off with them.  Also, volunteers are given NO training. That's right - NONE.    (I've got a draft post with a whole rant about the volunteer coordinator and what a crappy, half-assed job this person does - but we don't have to get into that.)  So I understand keeping the volunteers supervised.  Just because we can pass a background check, doesn't mean we know anything about children or how to treat them.  And with zero training, the staff should be required to keep an eye on us.  Just because you are not a criminal, doesn't mean you're not a jackass.

my Friday lesson

My Friday night ended with me in the bedroom of three little boys singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

Jonathan, age 4, has been there before.  For at least a month the last time.  All the staff know him.  He was gone for a while, but now he's back.  It probably does not mean good things are happening in his life if he's back there again.  Poor kid. 

Mikey, also 4, got attached to me.  I never deliberately try to make this happen.  I always let the children approach me and decide how long they want to hang with me.  I don't follow them around the playroom or try to sit next to them on the couch.  I am actually quite passive.  Except when a child needs some redirection or a toddler dispute needs mediating.

Mikey needed coaxing to go take a shower.  I helped him by telling him that I'd stay outside the bathroom door while he was in there and wait for him.  The staff do the bathing and dressing. Then I did one of the worst things I could do.  I didn't keep my promise.  I completely forgot what I had said and wandered away from the door.  He came out of the shower room, glared at me and said "You didn't stay at the door!"  I apologized and told him how sorry I was that I forgot.  He grabbed my hand to try to squeeze it and pinch me because he was so mad.  I tried to get him to tell me how mad he was and I kept saying sorry.  He still seemed angry, but he let me help him put his socks on. 

He sat next to me during movie time (Toy Story 2.)  It was a rowdy night in the toddler section.  There were at least twenty children there.  Lots of staff, but it was still a bit loud.

When it was bedtime Mikey got nervous and didn't want me to leave.  I told him I'd read him a story and that's how I ended up in the room with the three boys.   It is not easy to get three 4-year-olds to wind down when they have just come from being in a noisy room with twenty other toddlers.  I read a book.  We sang songs (softly.)  I turned down the lights.  I spoke softly to them and eventually got us all down to whispers.  I was in there for an hour before they began to settle down.

When they had quieted down a bit, I tried to leave but Mikey wasn't having any of that.  He sat up and told me that if I left then he was coming with me.  He was determined and put his two feet on the floor and would not get back under his covers until I told him I would stay.

So I sat on the floor, aware of the minutes passing by and annoyed at the staff chatting in the hallway.  (Um...ladies?  Children trying to sleep in here!)  I was thinking to myself, "Okay, what can I do to get them to sleep faster so I can get out of here?"  And then I realized - why do I care how fast they fall asleep?  Where do I have to go?  I'll just go home, eat a late dinner and sit in front of the TV.  Why am I in such a hurry to do that?

The meaninglessness of my work life has been bothering me lately.  I like the people I work with.  I enjoy the freedom that I have and the fact that in a typical day I get to use both my left and right brain.  I am grateful that my efforts contribute to this company staying afloat and therefore seven other people get to keep their jobs. But really, what I am doing?  Helping to sell stupid crap that nobody really needs.

This volunteer thing is the best thing I do for my soul all week. 

Once I realized that, I sat there in the dark with the three boys with a much calmer mind and heart.  I rubbed Mikey's back for a while.  Then rubbed Jonathan's back.  I was no longer focused on completing a task.  I was just happy to be there with them and glad to know that my presence brought them comfort.

Study of a Sleeping Child by Václav Malý

A good night

It's not always crazy or difficult or heartbreaking when I volunteer. It seems that I tend to write about the times that frustrate me. Probably because it is a good way to vent those feelings.

This past Friday was a good night with an interesting group of kids. Ages ranged from 3 to 6. They all seemed rather well adjusted and relaxed. They played really well together - very few episodes of squabbling, grabbing of toys or acting out. It was nice.

I played dolls with a 5-year-old who was a great Mommy. Tucked her dolls in with blankets and then grabbed a play purse and said, "I'm going out for a while. You watch them and I'll be back in a little bit." She walked around the playroom in a very determined way, like she was really intent on getting some errands done. When she got back, I gave her the report that all of the babies were good while she was out.


The fire alarm went off in the building while we were in the playroom. A piercing, high-pitched alarm that forces you to leave because it makes you feel like your brain is going to melt. Everyone was extremely calm and all the children walked quietly out of the building with staff shepherding them along. One of the staff counted the kids twice as we headed for the door. Not one kid got freaked out by the squealing alarm and flashing lights.

They have a big plastic stroller outside, with seats for six. Six kids got strapped in and two others just held hands with us. The stroller would be used to move the children quickly if there were a real emergency. We stood outside the building for a few minutes until someone determined that it had been a false alarm and we all went back inside. I was impressed by how calm all of the children remained throughout the whole thing. I think six of them were quite disappointed that they didn't actually get to take a ride in the big, plastic stroller.

Overall, it was a good night and I had fun.

The most popular girl in the room - unfortunately

I volunteered this past Friday and Saturday nights.

I have decided to make up fake names for the kids when I talk about them. It's easier than saying the 5-year-old, the 3-year-old. To protect their privacy, the names that I make up won't even be close to the children's real names. Also, I will not describe them physically or say very much about why they are there.

Max Liebermann: Kleinkinderschule (Bewaarschool) in Amsterdam, 1880

On Friday I spent time with Linda, a very quiet 5-year-old girl. She gradually opened up and near the end of the night told me a little about her mother and her older brother. Then she asked when I would come back. I told her it wouldn't be for many days because next week I'll be out of town.

I usually don't go on Saturdays, but I decided to go because I was thinking about Linda and the fact that I wouldn't be able to go back for while. When I got to the playroom, Linda was in a another room getting a shower so I started to read books with a cheerful 3-year-old named Joy. Actually, it was more like Joy reading books to me. She would turn the pages and chatter happily about whatever was pictured in the book.

Then a 5-year-old named Jennifer comes into the playroom after her shower. Jennifer is looking lost and crying for her mother. She must have arrived today, because she was not there last night. I ask her if she wants to read books with us. She says yes and sits on my lap. She is still crying and I listen to her while she tells me that she wants her mommy. I hug her and try to comfort her as best I can.

Linda shows up after her shower and sits down next to me. I have Linda and Jennifer each pick out a book. We read. Jennifer cries and says she wants her mommy. I continue to hold her and try to comfort her. Linda gets a sad look on her face and whispers something about her mommy under her breath. I ask Linda, "Do you miss your mommy too?" She nods her head solemnly and a tear rolls down her face. With crying Jennifer in my lap, I reach over and put my arm around Linda and tell her, "I know you miss your mommy." Linda doesn't go into full blown crying and I can see that a little bit of attention from me makes her feel better. Joy is still happily reading to herself near us.

We leave the playroom to have a snack in the kitchen. After snack time, everyone sits on the floor in the living room for singing time. The singing starts but Jennifer, still crying, leaves the floor and crawls onto the end of the couch. I'm sitting in the middle of the couch. I am hoping one of the staff will go to her. I'm only here a couple of hours a week. Wouldn't it be better for the person who is going to be spending the whole night with Jennifer to go and comfort her? Give this frightened child a chance to bond with someone other than the lone volunteer who is going to leave in an hour?


All through singing time, Jennifer is on one end of the couch, alone and crying. I'm staying on my side of the couch - waiting, waiting, waiting. Hoping a staff will reach out to her. Singing ends and they start the movie. None of the staff go near Jennifer. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I move over to Jennifer, take her in my lap and hold her while she cries. When the movie starts, Joy comes near me and also starts to say she misses her mommy. Joy sits to my right and alternates between happily watching the movie and saying she wants her mommy. Linda comes over and sits to my left. I try to smile at her and talk to her during the movie so she doesn't feel left out. She smiles back.

At one point during the movie I have crying Jennifer on my lap, Joy snuggling on my right, Linda sitting quietly on my left and a 3-year-old comes over and leans against my legs while watching the movie. I am a kid magnet.

The night has a painful ending. Joy, Linda and Jennifer all want me to read them a book in their rooms. Luckily, Linda and Jennifer are in the same room. I go to their room and start to read. Joy is screaming because she wants me in her room. I finish the book and say goodnight to Linda and Jennifer. Linda smiles at me. Jennifer continues to cry.

I go into Joy's room and she stops screaming. I read a book to her and her sister. I hear Jennifer start to cry loudly in the other room. After I finish the book I try to say goodnight to Joy and her sister and leave. I really want to go see how Jennifer is doing. But Joy starts to scream again when I try to leave. So I stay in Joy's room and sit by her bed while she falls asleep.

While I am sitting with Joy, Jennifer has escalated to screaming in the next room. I feel horrible that I can't be in both rooms at once and that I have abandoned Jennifer, who was so fragile and vulnerable all night. I hear them take Jennifer out of that room and into another. Eventually, Joy falls asleep and Jennifer quiets down.

I leave.

A heartbreaking night.

Fra Angelico

Operation Enthusiastic Cupcake!

The plan is in place.

Cupcakes have been baked and frosted.

Mr. Roger's Day at the Circus DVD has been ordered.
My smiling muscles have been assigned a rigorous training regimen.

Operation Enthusiastic Cupcake
has begun.

No, that is not me. She looks pretty enthusiastic though, doesn't she?

I have become tired of hearing myself complain about the movies that they show to the youngsters at the place where I volunteer. If I am not going to try to do anything about it, then I should shut my mouth.

So, what to do?

One of the reasons I haven't said anything to the staff about it is because I have never felt quite comfortable with them. Never felt like they even wanted me there. I have been going there once or twice a week since March and none of them have ever asked me my name. I usually come in, smile and say hello to the staff people who are there and then look around to see what the kids are doing. When I first started to volunteer I was completely surprised that none of them said anything to me about what I should do or how things work. I thought that if they saw a new face, someone would acknowledge my newness and try to fill me in. Nope. Nothing.

But of course I need to take responsibility for not being more assertive myself. I could have introduced myself to any of them and told them I was new and asked for direction. I felt intimidated and awkward. The vibe was so weird. Maybe I am too sensitive, but I really got the feeling that they could care less that I was there. Sometimes when I said hello they barely grunted at me. To this day, I still haven't figured out if there is one lead staff person on duty.

I am also aware that no one appreciates a person coming into their workplace and telling them how to run things. Especially if that person is only around a few hours a week.

So I go in and play with the kids. I have no problem sitting down on the floor with a bunch of two- to six-year-olds and interacting. Play just naturally happens with them. It is their sole purpose in life and it flows out and around and between and through them as easily as breathing. I'll try to engage with some of them and let them decide if they want to allow me into their play world. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don't. If not, I can sit back and wait for other chances to interact. Some nights I end up reading and playing with many kids at different times. Sometimes only one or two.

Kou-Kou by Georgios Iakovidis

I was talking with someone about my experiences there. She works for an organization that helps troubled teens so she knows a little about the child and foster care system in this area. She pointed out that there must be a lack of leadership there and that the staff are probably under-appreciated and don't feel like they have clear direction. In a challenging social services job like that, it is easy to become unmotivated and apathetic if you don't feel genuinely supported by your management.

It made me realize what I have to do.

Operation Enthusiastic Cupcake went into effect at 1800 hours on Wednesday, July 15, 2009.

Here is the plan:

1. I have to get over my shyness and feeling awkward and start to be more engaging and friendly with the staff. I have to initiate conversations and ask them questions and start calling them by name. I have to get past my anxiety about making small talk and just do it.

2. I will show them that I appreciate them. I baked cupcakes. I frosted them with chocolate frosting and colorful sprinkles. I brought them with me on Wednesday and gave them to one of the staff. She said thank you and I heard her tell some other staff that I had brought them in.

3. I will give them genuine compliments that acknowledge their strengths. I will ask them how the day has been going and sympathize with how hard it must be sometimes.

The goal of all this is to make them feel more comfortable with me and make me more comfortable with them. Then it will be easier to approach one of them with a suggestion or concern. Hopefully I can bring up my concerns about the scary movies in such a way that they will not feel attacked and will be open to listening.

I can also bring in the Mr Rogers Day at the Circus DVD and suggest we watch it some night. If that goes over well, I can bring in more.


If I can't get through to them and there continues to be ridiculously inappropriate movies shown to these fragile youngsters, I will be forced to change the battle plan.

We'll have to resort to

Operation Ballistic Chicken
....and nobody wants that to happen.

Lullabies in Crazy-Land

Volunteered on Friday. Seven kids, five staff and me.

Movie time!

The featured movie of the night was Quest for Camelot - a lovely tale with lots of sword fighting, monsters, dragons, scary bad guys and the heroine's father getting killed. Yippee!

I had a 3-year-old boy on my lap and a 5-year-old girl snuggling next to me. The boy was one of those kids who keeps a barrage of questions coming throughout the movie. I love that. Shows he is curious and paying attention. Sometimes kids like that get shushed for talking. I'm glad it didn't happen this night. I liked answering his questions.

The heroine's name is Kayley (I'm sure that Kayley was a really popular girl's name during the Middle Ages.) The knights are meeting and the bad guy starts a big fight where they all draw their swords. Afterwards, the Kayley's father lies motionless on the ground.

Boy: Is he dead?

Me: No he's just hurt. (And I get away with this lie because they don't show another clear image of his dead body.)

The bad guy has kidnapped Kayley and her mother and has turned some of the villagers into horrible monsters. Kayley gets away, but is chased by two monsters.

Boy: Are they gonna catch her?

Me: No, she'll be okay. She's strong and smart.

Boy: Will she do this? [Makes a punching motion with his hand.]

Me: [Hesitating] Um...maybe....only if she has to. Keep watching...she'll be okay.

Above is a clip from the movie. A lovely song sung by the mother as the monsters chase Kayley.

Kayley runs into the Forbidden Forest but the monsters keep following. Then we see the Damsel in Distress theme brought to a whole new level. This female character is so incredibly helpless, that she has to get saved from the monsters by a BLIND GUY. An exceptionally talented blind guy, but C'MON! (We don't watch the whole movie, so I don't get see if the heroine does anything remotely useful later on.)


They flash over to the bad guys who have Kayley's mother.

Girl: What are they doing with her mother?

Me: They are just bringing her with them. Kayley will save her mother...keep watching.

As usual we shut the move off in the middle (before the happy ending where everyone is safe and the bad guys are gone) and send the kids to bed.

Sweet dreams kids!

We can do better

Volunteered again tonight.

[Big sigh]

I have a feeling that this place is going to be a source of endless frustration for me. I have all these opinions on how they could be doing things better. But who am I? I don't have children. I don't have a degree in anything child-related. I've never had a job involving children - unless you count babysitting in my teen years.

But I just can't help myself. I wonder WHY are they doing this? Why are they NOT doing that? And this is my blog so I am allowed to say whatever I want, right?

After snack time. I counted. There were 11 kids, 8 staff people and me. Holy Almost-a-one-to-one-ratio, Batman! What a great opportunity to give the kids some focused attention. Let's each grab one or two kids, sit with them, read to them, talk with them, color with them. They have plenty of group activities all day. Let's create just a little block of time in their day where they get the full attention one caring adult.

Nah.

Let's sit them in front of a movie.

Again.

Just like last night.

And the night before.

And let's have the move be Mulan. And let's have the last scene that we show be the one where Mulan is being abandoned by her army buddies because they found out she was a girl. (A moment earlier they were going to kill her, but decided not to.) Let's watch all the people she cares about walking away and leaving her on a snowy mountaintop all by herself. Then let's shut off the TV. Sweet dreams kiddies!

Yes, it is a cartoon. And most of the kids are too young to fully comprehend the story. But I'll bet you they know scary when they see it. And sad - they certainly know what crying looks like.

So why?! Why even have movies that contain ANYTHING scary, slightly violent or with scenes of abandonment or sadness or bad things happening to vulnerable people? These kids have experienced loss in their lives. Some have witnessed or been victims of real violence. They've just been pulled from their homes and sent to to live with a bunch of strangers. They have no control over anything and they have no idea what is going to happen next. Their REAL lives are scary and sad.

Why can't this place be a true shelter from the storm - full of gentleness, safety and peace. A place where we deliberately filter out unnecessary images of violence and scariness. Where we wouldn't THINK of showing a movie that has any frightening content, even if it is a well known Disney cartoon. Where the only movies we show have fluffy bunnies singing the alphabet or a family of bears who take a vacation on a boat and have fun and SAFE adventures.

You cannot protect any child from every single scary or sad thing they might encounter in this world. And you shouldn't necessarily put them in a protective bubble so tight that they don't develop any resilience or learn how to cope with difficult situations.

But why don't we put a little more thought into the things that we CAN control with THESE children while they are temporarily in our care. These children are special. They need extra comfort, a little more nurturing of their fragile spirits, and lots and lots of gentleness and safety in their surroundings. We can and should do better.



It doesn't take a freaking genius to figure that out.

Even though it frustrates and upsets me, I still feel like I need to keep going back. Especially when it frustrates and upsets me, I feel like I need to keep going back.

A better day

A better day in the Twilight Zone - and a worse one.

The better:
Again some older siblings came to visit the younger ones. This time they were given a choice to watch a movie or go play or read in the younger kids' rooms. They all chose to go off and play. The 6-year-old's sister got to read him his bedtime story. YES!!!!! That's what I'm talking about, people!

The worse:
Reading a bedtime story to a 4-year-old. It's an alphabet book with fruits and vegetables. When he sees apples he says, "I like those at my house." When he sees oranges he says, "I like those at my house." Then he says, "My Mommy wants me at my house" and starts to cry. He is standing beside his bed and I open my arms and ask him if he wants a hug. He says no, gets into the bed, puts the covers over himself, turns his back to me and continues to cry. I put my hand on his back and tell him that I know he is sad and I'm sorry. He cries and I sit with him like that and rub his back. He eventually stops crying and turns back around to face me. He wants to keep reading the book so we do. Then I say goodnight and leave him with one of the staff.

It was really hard for me not to start bawling right along with him.

I might eventually stop writing about this because I have a feeling it is going to be just more of the same. Many more sad, scared, confused children asking for their mommies. There is definitely going to be a limit on how many times I can tell that same story.

Just What the Hell is Going on Here

This place where I volunteer - sometimes it is like a Twilight Zone episode. Such odd things can occur. Things that just don't make sense to me. I have to accept the fact that I am not in charge. That I can't make all the changes that I would like to see. I might be able to influence things a little, but I am not there often enough to even know the whole story most of the time.

The joyful part:

The 6-year-old from last week is still there. He hugged me and said he missed me. I got to stay until they went to bed and read him two books in his room before saying goodnight. I didn't expect him to still be there. The more I see him, the harder it is going to be when I show up one day and he's gone. I hope he is there when I go back on Friday.

The strange parts:

There were just three kids in the section today. Four staff members and me. What a great opportunity to give the kids some one-on-one time. Nah. Let's just sit them all on the couch and watch a movie.

And here is a great example of how I can be quick to judge, but maybe I don't have the whole story. Maybe the three kids had a day chock full of great one-on-one attention from the staff. When I first arrived, two of them were helping one of the older ones with his homework. Maybe they had an enormously stimulating day and the passive activity of watching a movie was really what the kids needed. I might not have enough information to make that call.

I start to read books with the 6-year-old in the same room that the movie is playing. It's like a living room area where they have big couches. We are reading and pausing because he is getting distracted by the movie at times. But we are still interacting. Then one of the staff says, "Okay, no more reading. We are watching the movie now." Really? I can't read with the kid?!?!

[I start to hear the Twilight Zone music. Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do.]

So I think, okay, I'm still with him and he's snuggling a little next to me and that is a part of what he might need too - some physical closeness with a caring adult. We can watch Will Smith as a cartoon fish doing silly cartoon fish things.

Then a staff person from another section brings in the sister of the 6-year-old and the two sisters of the 2-year-old to visit. These are older kids who stay in a different section. Time to stop the movie so these siblings can have some quality time together? Of course not!

[Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do.]

They let the siblings sit next to each other on the couch and continue to watch the movie. The 6-year-old gets shushed by his older sister when he tries to talk to her because she's aware that, at the moment, they are expected to sit quietly and watch the movie. The 2-year-old is clearly happy to see his sisters but they also look like they feel they have to watch the movie and don't really get to give him much attention.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!?!? WHO THE BLEEP IS RUNNING THIS PLACE?!?!?!? Why are we not shutting off the movie and encouraging the older siblings to talk and interact with their brothers? Isn't that simply good common sense? I am convinced that at least two of the staff were enjoying the movie too much and didn't want to shut it off. Reminds me a little of the first time I volunteered there. It seems like they are used to doing what they need to do to get through the day and not really thinking too hard about the emotional needs of the children.

I haven't been doing this very long but I hope that as I get more comfortable there and the staff gets more comfortable with me, that I'll be able to influence things in a different direction when I see these odd things. For now I am just trying to focus on being there for the kids.

volunteer time

I volunteered after work today.

Little boy with the bright smile gets sad when I have to leave. He is about 5 or 6. We read books. He made me read Dr. Seuss at lightning speed and laughed all the way through.

They had just transitioned from the playroom to snack time, so it was a good moment for me to leave. I told him I was going. He gets a sad look on his face and says, "Why do you have to goooo?" I said that I have to go home and eat dinner. He said, "Are you coming back?" I said I would come tomorrow (and I will.) He said, "When? Early?" I said it would be later in the day. He was still sad when I said goodnight and left.

And it made me really wonder - is it a good thing for these kids for me to come, play with them for a little while, give them some loving attention and then leave?

They have just been yanked out of their homes and their world probably feels chaotic and scary. They have staff people rotating in and out of their lives every day as each shift changes. They watch other children come and go - the new kid today could be gone tomorrow. The are kept safe and clean and fed, but nothing in their lives is stable or predictable.

So am I just another unstable element in their lives? I show up for a few hours a week, play with them and always leave. And I can't usually promise that I'll be back the next day.

I have to tell myself that it does benefit the kids or I wouldn't be able to do it. The staff people have to focus a lot of their energy on running the place and they can't always give their full attention to being with the children. I can play with them, talk to them and just be with them. They can have my full attention while I am there.

I have to believe that any small, kind gesture - a hug, telling them that they did a good job, reading books together - can have a positive impact. I can't change their lives or fix their difficult situations. I can only offer brief moments of kindness and love - and hope that it will bring some small measure of peace into their unsettled lives.

The next day

I went back after work the next day. The 6-year-old was still there and he ran up to me to give me a hug as soon as he saw me. I just want to fold him up, put him in my pocket and take him home.

Later in the evening his older sister came over to say goodnight. She is staying in one of the other sections with kids her age. I am so happy to know that he has an older sister in his life. So relieved that he is not going through this completely on his own.

2 out of 3

I went again to volunteer at the children's center tonight. Once again it was NOT the chaotic mess that it was the first time. I am so happy about that.

The little boy who I played with last time was still there. We started to play the same game as last time, but he moved on quickly to more exciting things. (That game was soooo last week.)

I spent a lot of time tonight with a bright 6-year-old girl. She was soft spoken, but warmed up after a while. We talked during snack time and she told me she wanted to be a Princess for Halloween. I told her that she was just selling out to mainstream society's idea that women can only be helpless, beautiful creatures who have to wait around to be saved by their Prince Charming. I told her to smarten up and stop believing that twisted fairy tale that will never come true.

Of course I didn't say that.



She asked me what I was going to be for Halloween. I said that I hadn't thought about it. She smiled and said, "A Princess?" I said, "Sure!" Then she closed her eyes and said, "I am seeing you in my brain." She was imagining me as a Princess.

Later we read books together. She wasn't so interested in the story but always wanted to know the names of everyone on the page. She also wanted to know how to spell my name and then looked for each letter on the page. We read a Barbie book and I pointed out how freakishly skinny the Barbies were and how it sets up young girls to have a distorted view of their own body image and unrealistic expectations about what normal size is. (No. I didn't.)

She told me she misses her sister. I told her that I'm sure her sister misses her too.

When it was time to go she hugged me and I told her that I had fun reading with her and that she was really good at colors (one of the books was about colors.) What a sweet child.

A great age

Volunteered again tonight and it was sooooo much better than last time. There were only about 7 kids and 5 volunteers. I think that makes a world of difference. There were also different staff on duty.

They did not give the kids candy this time. They did not play a loud, scary movie this time. We were able to give the kids a lot of attention and it didn't feel as chaotic.

You just have to love that age when a kid will play a silly game, over and over and over, and still have the same enthusiasm and joy about it the whole way through. There was a boy of about 5 sitting near me, facing the other way. I tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned around I pretended it wasn't me. He smiled and said "Who did that?" I shrugged my shoulders and tried to act innocent. I did it a few more times and he laughed every time. We played this for at least 10 minutes.

Tap, tap.
"Who did that? (big smile)
"Not me! It was.... that stuffed giraffe!" (giggles)

Tap, tap.
"Who did that? (big smile)
"Not me! It was.... that pumpkin!" (more giggles)

Tap, tap.
"Who did that? (big smile)
"Not me! It was.... that teddy bear!" (more giggles)

Over and over and full of glee each time. What a great age.

We left before they headed to their bedrooms to sleep and only one little boy started to cry. It was an easier transition than last time.

tonight

I'm going back to the Children's Center to volunteer tonight. Let's hope it is a little better than last time.

Volunteering

Volunteered tonight at a children's center.

What a heart-wrenching experience. What a chaotic mess. You can tell that the staff are trying to do the best they can but whoever is in charge really needs to re-think the procedures. I am no expert at child behavior, but isn't it obvious that having 15-20 toddlers in one main room is not going to be conducive to getting them in a calm state of mind before bedtime? Wouldn't it be better to separate them into small groups? They have the staff for it. About 1 staff for every 4 or 5 kids. Shouldn't we NOT give them candy before bed? Shouldn't we NOT play (at a very loud volume) a slightly scary kid's dinosaur movie before bed? Can't we have some routine part of the night that is calming and soothing in some way instead of just jerking from one activity to another and then suddenly to bed?

We play with them and read to them as best we can in the big main room. It is pretty loud the whole time and there is nothing calming about it. At one point a staff person leads the kids in songs. Most of them sit right down in front of him and join in with the singing. They seem to want this kind of structure. We sing about 5 or 6 songs. Then they hand out candy. It isn't a large amount. The kids get to pick out one piece each - a little roll of sweet tarts or a small lollipop. Then they turn on the movie. The movie is just turned at some point in the middle of the story. There are dinosaur and monkey friends who watch the world end with a big explosion and then are trekking across burned out wasteland and start to be chased by a gang of smaller, evil, biting dinosaurs.

It is time for bed before the movie is over, so they just turn it off. The kids are told to go to their rooms and we volunteers will read to them. I go into a room with three little boys, M, J and another kid whose name I didn't get. Another volunteer is reading to him. I try to read to M & J. M isn't that interested - he's about 5 and playing with a toy truck. J gets into it - he's about 3. He points at the pictures and makes comments.

Earlier in the evening J had asked me something about his mother. I had a hard time hearing him in the noisy room and it can sometimes take a practiced ear to decipher the words of a 3-year-old. But he said something to the effect of "Where is my mother?" I said something like "I don't know honey, maybe you'll get to see her later." I tried to distract him with a book and it worked.

At bedtime, in their room, I'm reading to J and a staff person comes in and tells the boys that they all have to be in their beds laying down or we can't keep reading to them. M gets in his bed, but J starts saying "I need my narm, please." He kept saying it, "I need my narm, please." Even the staff person didn't know what he was asking for. I tried to figure it out.

J, is it a stuffed animal that you play with?

I need my narm, please.

What does your narm look like?

I need my narm, please.

What color is it?

I need my narm, please.

Is it something you put in your mouth?

I need my narm, please.

Is it a bottle?

I need my narm, please.

When a second staff person is asked and doesn't know what it is, I try another tactic.

J, I don't think we can find your narm. Is it okay if just for tonight you keep this with you? (handing him a soft, stuffed ladybug.) He'll stay with you all night.

No! I need my narm, please. (Now he's getting more upset each time he says it.)

J, I'm sorry but we can't find it. This guy will stay with you all night. (the ladybug). He wont' leave you.

No! I need my narm. (Now with tears filling his eyes, he throws the ladybug aside.)

The staff person decides that nothing more can be done and says "Just lay down and go to bed. It is time to sleep now." Even in this small room with just 3 boys it still feels chaotic. The no-name kid is crying his head off because the volunteer who was reading to him has just left. The staff person is in the room trying to just tell them all to go to sleep.

I have to leave this 3-year-old boy with tears in his eyes looking so lost and becoming more and more frantic, knowing that he is not going to get what he needs. He's not even going to get a gentle, comforting person to sit with him and hug him until he feels better or falls asleep. He's only going to get an overworked staff person who is thinking about all the other kids he has to get to sleep and has decided that he is done trying to figure this one out. And I have to leave.

I try to give him some comforting words before I go, but I am starting to cry. I leave him sitting on his tiny bed with the staff person in his room.

I get in my car and bawl my eyes out the whole way home. I say a prayer that this little boy will find some small comfort tonight and that his parents will get whatever it is that they need in order to be able to bring him home.