Thursday, December 27, 2012
Some People
Some people are just so damn kind. They listen to your pointless story and then laugh at the dumb punchline. They come way out of their way to visit when you're lying in bed sick. They take the time to listen to you rant and then tell you everything will be just fine. They remind you that you you're a good person with good qualities that they then go on to list. They stand up for you when you're being picked on and are unable to defend yourself. They go out of their way to make sure you feel welcome. Gosh, I sure hope these people know how much they are appreciated.
Monday, December 17, 2012
An Empty Hand
Tonight while taking my dog Scout for a walk, it became clear to me that something was missing. Something important. Or rather, someone.
All through high school I loved to take my dogs for walks, often after dark and sometimes while sporting my heavy winter coat. Mali liked to walk right next to me while Scout liked to walk way ahead, as far as his retractable leash would allow. Both dogs walked on the sidewalk and I walked in the gutter. Because of where they walked, Mali's leash would be in my hand closest to the sidewalk, Scout's in the other. When we crossed the street, I traded the leashes between my hands to keep this arrangement.
Mali's eyes aged much faster than the rest of her body, so eventually I was carrying two leashes and a flashlight while walking the dogs. The flashlight would be in the same hand as Mali's leash so I could shine it right in front of her. I'm not sure if this helped her much, but it gave her human family some peace of mind.
Now, Mali goes for a walk almost every day, but not with Scout. Her eyes have failed her and she can no longer walk on the sidewalk without falling off, so she walks in the middle of the street. When I am home, I am often the one who takes her on these strolls, much shorter and slower than our nighttime walks used to be.
It makes me smile to watch Scout enjoy our long walks, still usually staying at the very end of his retractable leash. He knows the routes by heart even though we don't walk together nearly as often now that I am in college and don't live at home most of the year. He's a fun walking buddy, but I still can't help to realize that although Mali is still alive, she is no longer able to join us on our nighttime adventures. Regardless of which hand I use to hold Scout's leash, I am always left with an empty hand that reminds me of someone very special.
All through high school I loved to take my dogs for walks, often after dark and sometimes while sporting my heavy winter coat. Mali liked to walk right next to me while Scout liked to walk way ahead, as far as his retractable leash would allow. Both dogs walked on the sidewalk and I walked in the gutter. Because of where they walked, Mali's leash would be in my hand closest to the sidewalk, Scout's in the other. When we crossed the street, I traded the leashes between my hands to keep this arrangement.
Mali's eyes aged much faster than the rest of her body, so eventually I was carrying two leashes and a flashlight while walking the dogs. The flashlight would be in the same hand as Mali's leash so I could shine it right in front of her. I'm not sure if this helped her much, but it gave her human family some peace of mind.
walking in the foothills with Mali (right) and Scout circa 2008
It makes me smile to watch Scout enjoy our long walks, still usually staying at the very end of his retractable leash. He knows the routes by heart even though we don't walk together nearly as often now that I am in college and don't live at home most of the year. He's a fun walking buddy, but I still can't help to realize that although Mali is still alive, she is no longer able to join us on our nighttime adventures. Regardless of which hand I use to hold Scout's leash, I am always left with an empty hand that reminds me of someone very special.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Beautiful Camping Pictures
I spent my weekend camping and it was SO beautiful. These first pictures were early on Saturday morning (maybe 6:30am). It had been raining and raining, so there was beautiful mist in the morning.
The sun did finally come up!
the little stream by our campsite
looks like something from a calendar...
Sunday, September 16, 2012
High Holy Day Memories
Sitting in Erev Rosh Hashanah services tonight, I started thinking about what I missed about being home this time of year and realized I have quite a few memories related to the High Holy Days. Some are funny… well, actually, most are funny! Without further adieu, I present to you my High Holy Day memories:
- my little brother Greg rushing out of the sanctuary headed for the oneg, weaving his four-foot self in and out of the adults slowly working their way out of the room as my mom tries desperately to get him to stand in line and wait like everyone else
- my dad playing football with all the kids at second day services in the mountains while the service is still in progress and getting reprimanded on the microphone by the rabbi for being too loud
- my mom being invited to read the same passage every year for Yom Kippur morning services; her sitting on the bimah while we waved at her from the congregation; her not waving back but smiling at us; my dad explaining that she cannot wave at us during the service while she is on the bimah
- Greg and I blowing our shofars all over the house for weeks before the High Holy Days
- leaning my head on my mom's shoulder during the never-ending sermon
- whispering with my dad during services and getting a glare from my mom
- my dad offering me food seemingly every five minutes on Yom Kippur when it was already difficult for me to fast as a teenager
- building forts in the woods with the other kids during second day services in the mountains
- taking breaks from services to hang out and chat in the lounge
- being bewildered by the number of extra chairs set up that extend all the way to the back of the social hall
- being rushed to school after morning services; changing from temple clothes to school clothes in the car
- smiling at my mom every time a certain line was read that she doesn't like
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Smokey Cooking
Tonight while cooking dinner, I nearly burned down my apartment building. OK, that's a slight exaggeration, but I definitely feared setting off the fire alarm, which probably would have been just as annoying to my fellow residents as if I burned down the building.
I was cooking spaghetti, as I often do, so I put a chunk of defrosted ground beef in a pan and turned on the burner. Then I filled a pot with water and started cooking the noodles. I wandered off for a moment, checking a text on my phone while I waited for my food to cook.
As usual, the beef began to sizzle. But then, the beef REALLY began to sizzle. I suddenly realized I had turned the burner on high instead of medium and was burning my food. Soon the pan started emitting thick campfire-like smoke, and I quickly turned off the heat and moved the pan to another burner. This did not solve the problem.
With smoke now filling my entire apartment, the thought of setting off the fire alarm was hot on my mind. I grabbed the sizzling, smoking pan and ran out the front door, all the while hoping I would not hear the dreaded blaring sound signaling evacuation. My resident advisor was walking across the grass on the first floor and looked up at where I was standing on the third floor, wondering what the sizzling noise was. I yelled down to her that I was fine and just trying not to set off the fire alarm. She smiled and kept walking.
I stood out there for what seemed like an eternity before the pan finally stopped smoking. When it did, I rushed back inside, put the pan on a cool burner, and opened all the windows in the apartment. Then, I waited.
The smoke eventually cleared, and I was able to return to cooking dinner. About half of the beef was burned, so I threw that part away and continued cooking the un-burned portion. The noodles soon finished cooking, and, with no fire alarm after all, I sat down to enjoy my spaghetti.
I was cooking spaghetti, as I often do, so I put a chunk of defrosted ground beef in a pan and turned on the burner. Then I filled a pot with water and started cooking the noodles. I wandered off for a moment, checking a text on my phone while I waited for my food to cook.
As usual, the beef began to sizzle. But then, the beef REALLY began to sizzle. I suddenly realized I had turned the burner on high instead of medium and was burning my food. Soon the pan started emitting thick campfire-like smoke, and I quickly turned off the heat and moved the pan to another burner. This did not solve the problem.
With smoke now filling my entire apartment, the thought of setting off the fire alarm was hot on my mind. I grabbed the sizzling, smoking pan and ran out the front door, all the while hoping I would not hear the dreaded blaring sound signaling evacuation. My resident advisor was walking across the grass on the first floor and looked up at where I was standing on the third floor, wondering what the sizzling noise was. I yelled down to her that I was fine and just trying not to set off the fire alarm. She smiled and kept walking.
I stood out there for what seemed like an eternity before the pan finally stopped smoking. When it did, I rushed back inside, put the pan on a cool burner, and opened all the windows in the apartment. Then, I waited.
The smoke eventually cleared, and I was able to return to cooking dinner. About half of the beef was burned, so I threw that part away and continued cooking the un-burned portion. The noodles soon finished cooking, and, with no fire alarm after all, I sat down to enjoy my spaghetti.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
The Dog Poop Dilemma
A few nights ago, as I often do when I'm home, I took my dog Scout with me for a run. We run on a paved path that sits parallel to a major street. We usually run 1.5 miles and then turn around and come back.
I bring bags with me whenever I run or walk Scout, and he usually goes within the first five minutes or so. But that night, he waited until we were a good 3/4 mile from the starting point. I bagged up the excrement and set it on the side of the path, planning to pick it up on the way back. We got to our turnaround point, and on the way back, I realized that if I were to pick up the bag I had left, I would have to run with it for 3/4 mile. Being an only marginally good citizen in that instance, I left the bag sitting on the side of the path and finished the run.
The next evening, I took Mali, our older dog, for a walk. I decided to try to find the bag Scout and I left the previous night, so Mali and I walked along the same path. Sure enough, about 3/4 mile in, I saw the bag sitting right where I had left it the previous night! I picked it up and carried it back to our starting point, where I found a trash can and disposed of it. So yes, I left the poop in a bag on the side of the road for 24 hours, but I eventually helped it find its way to the trash.
I bring bags with me whenever I run or walk Scout, and he usually goes within the first five minutes or so. But that night, he waited until we were a good 3/4 mile from the starting point. I bagged up the excrement and set it on the side of the path, planning to pick it up on the way back. We got to our turnaround point, and on the way back, I realized that if I were to pick up the bag I had left, I would have to run with it for 3/4 mile. Being an only marginally good citizen in that instance, I left the bag sitting on the side of the path and finished the run.
The next evening, I took Mali, our older dog, for a walk. I decided to try to find the bag Scout and I left the previous night, so Mali and I walked along the same path. Sure enough, about 3/4 mile in, I saw the bag sitting right where I had left it the previous night! I picked it up and carried it back to our starting point, where I found a trash can and disposed of it. So yes, I left the poop in a bag on the side of the road for 24 hours, but I eventually helped it find its way to the trash.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Mali's Shenanigans
My dog Mali is 12 now. As she declines, I have started taking more videos of the silly things she does that I take for granted, because I want to remember her long after she is gone. Here are two recent ones:
During summer 2011 my parents left me home alone for a week while my brother was at a camp and they were on a vacation just the two of them. During that week, Mali found some weird bugs in the yard at night and ate a ton of them. I figured she wiped out the whole species (at least from our yard) because I hadn't seen them since… until she found another one the other night!
Mali and the Crunchy Bug
Mali loves carrots! Listen closely and you can hear the crunch sound as she chews them up. So cute!
Friday, July 13, 2012
My Goofball Dogs
Tonight I took the dogs outside to go to the bathroom before bed and a funny incident unfolded. Mali, age 12, largely vision impaired and diagnosed with Cushing's, was peeing in the rocks where she always goes. Scout, the 7-year-old, likes to pee on top of Mali's pee, I guess to mask her scent with his. Mali finished peeing and stepped away, and Scout immediately began peeing on the spot where Mali had gone. After Mali uses the facilities, she likes to kick the rocks back to cover up the spot. So while Scout was peeing over the spot where Mali peed, Mali started kicking the rocks, not knowing they were going straight toward Scout! This startled Scout, who bolted away from the scene while I burst out laughing at the whole situation.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Oh My Gosh, You're So Grown Up!
I was browsing Facebook the other day when I came across a new album of pictures posted by URJ Camp Newman where I went to camp for three summers as a kid. Newman is probably the most common Jewish camp for youth from my temple to attend, so it's not unusual for me to see people I know in the camp's brochures and online albums. I was looking at session photos when I noticed a familiar face. However, I was surprised to see this child, whom I had worked with as a third grader when I aided in religious school during high school, in a picture for a session I knew was for middle schoolers. How could it be? The last time I saw this kid he was 9 years old!
I thought back and noted that he was in my class when I was a junior in high school. I am now entering my junior year of college. I realized that this boy is going to be in seventh grade this fall. Seventh grade! When he was in the class I helped teach, he was just learning the Hebrew letters and vowels. Now, sometime during seventh grade, he will stand in front of the entire congregation and celebrate becoming a Bar Mitzvah. Although he has awhile to go before having the rights and responsibilities of an adult in the legal sense, when he turns 13 he will be viewed as an adult in the eyes of the Jewish community. And this is my third grader we're talking about!
When I was younger (and even now, sometimes), people would come up to me and tell me I was so big and so tall and so grown up since the last time they saw me. Half the time I would have no idea who the person talking to me even was because I had been so young the last time we met. The funny thing is, I find myself doing the exact same thing to kids now. It was about eight years ago that I worked in my first class as a religious school aide. It was a kindergarten class, and now the kids are 13 and entering eighth grade! It never occurred to me that this would eventually happen to me, but I guess this is what you get when you work with kids for this many years!
I thought back and noted that he was in my class when I was a junior in high school. I am now entering my junior year of college. I realized that this boy is going to be in seventh grade this fall. Seventh grade! When he was in the class I helped teach, he was just learning the Hebrew letters and vowels. Now, sometime during seventh grade, he will stand in front of the entire congregation and celebrate becoming a Bar Mitzvah. Although he has awhile to go before having the rights and responsibilities of an adult in the legal sense, when he turns 13 he will be viewed as an adult in the eyes of the Jewish community. And this is my third grader we're talking about!
When I was younger (and even now, sometimes), people would come up to me and tell me I was so big and so tall and so grown up since the last time they saw me. Half the time I would have no idea who the person talking to me even was because I had been so young the last time we met. The funny thing is, I find myself doing the exact same thing to kids now. It was about eight years ago that I worked in my first class as a religious school aide. It was a kindergarten class, and now the kids are 13 and entering eighth grade! It never occurred to me that this would eventually happen to me, but I guess this is what you get when you work with kids for this many years!
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Counting Down the Days
In less than a week, I will hug my parents, brother, and dogs goodbye, get in my car, and drive about 7 hours to Elbert, Colorado, where I will be living for over two months. No, I'm not headed there to take summer classes or to visit family; I'm going to be working at camp.
To some, the thought of spending nine or ten weeks surrounded by young children virtually 24/7 sounds like hell, but personally, I am very excited. I believe everyone has at least one thing they are great at, something that is their true passion in life, and over the past several years, I have realized that mine is working with children. (This is why I recently changed my major to elementary education, something I had been considering for quite awhile.) You see, the task of coaxing twenty 7-year-olds into making a circle doesn't phase me, and I can be asked the same question by the same child ten times in a ten minute period without losing my temper. As my friend said when we were discussing my move to the elementary education major, "Sarah, you are good with kids. Not many people are good with kids, so people who are good with kids should work with kids."
So, while many of my peers will spend their summer answering phones, making copies, and going on daily coffee runs for the office, I'll be running around all day with my cabin of 8-10 girls. Over the course of each day, I'll serve as a surrogate mother, nurse (There are real nurses on site, too!), entertainment director, referee, cheerleader, mentor, team captain, therapist, and tour guide. I'll make sure each camper brushes her teeth and puts on sunscreen in the morning, and I'll be there to mediate when they have an argument with another camper. I'll be the one to clean and put a Band-Aid on a minor cut, and I'll be sitting with them in the nurse's office if they get an injury I am not trained to handle by myself. I'll rock climb and horseback ride right along with them and will teach them lots of new goofy games. I'll wear many hats and will undoubtably be exhausted at the end of each day, but I can't think of a better way to spend a summer than at camp, working with other Jewish young adults and playing with kids all day.
To some, the thought of spending nine or ten weeks surrounded by young children virtually 24/7 sounds like hell, but personally, I am very excited. I believe everyone has at least one thing they are great at, something that is their true passion in life, and over the past several years, I have realized that mine is working with children. (This is why I recently changed my major to elementary education, something I had been considering for quite awhile.) You see, the task of coaxing twenty 7-year-olds into making a circle doesn't phase me, and I can be asked the same question by the same child ten times in a ten minute period without losing my temper. As my friend said when we were discussing my move to the elementary education major, "Sarah, you are good with kids. Not many people are good with kids, so people who are good with kids should work with kids."
So, while many of my peers will spend their summer answering phones, making copies, and going on daily coffee runs for the office, I'll be running around all day with my cabin of 8-10 girls. Over the course of each day, I'll serve as a surrogate mother, nurse (There are real nurses on site, too!), entertainment director, referee, cheerleader, mentor, team captain, therapist, and tour guide. I'll make sure each camper brushes her teeth and puts on sunscreen in the morning, and I'll be there to mediate when they have an argument with another camper. I'll be the one to clean and put a Band-Aid on a minor cut, and I'll be sitting with them in the nurse's office if they get an injury I am not trained to handle by myself. I'll rock climb and horseback ride right along with them and will teach them lots of new goofy games. I'll wear many hats and will undoubtably be exhausted at the end of each day, but I can't think of a better way to spend a summer than at camp, working with other Jewish young adults and playing with kids all day.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Walmart: A 6-year-old's "home away from home"
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Bullying in our own Backyard
A national crisis. An epidemic. Taking lives at an alarming rate. No, I'm not talking about some new virus going around. I'm talking about bullying.
Bullying has made headlines quite a bit lately with the release of the new documentary, Bully. The film follows the lives of several bullied teens throughout the course of an entire school year. While I have yet to see the film, my point is that it has brought a lot of media attention to the issue of bullying.
As a kid, I was a head taller than almost every classmate, and I was pretty bright. While I wasn't all that different from the other kids, being so tall and often the first to understand concepts in class made me just enough of an oddball to be a victim of bullying. In 1st grade, one little boy had a "clubhouse" at recess, and I was not invited to join. In 2nd grade, a girl pushed me around daily while everyone was hanging up their backpacks in the classroom. In 4th grade, a couple of boys called me "smart one". In 6th grade, I had some leather shoes that I liked to wear and was called "moo shoes". These are just a few examples, and they were not isolated incidences; they happened daily for several months if not the whole school year.
I'm not trying to start a pity party here. At 20 years of age, I have some great friends and, perhaps more importantly, the freedom to avoid people who are mean. But looking back at my childhood, I can see an obvious pattern of being the victim of bullying. We learned about bullying at school, but it never occurred to me until I was older that what happened to me was bullying.
Despite being a victim of bullying, I never realized that what was happening to me was bullying, because bullying is taught to kids as something that happens to other people. "Kids, we're learning about this so that if you ever see it happening, you'll know how to respond." Are you kidding me? I have yet to see a school, youth group, sports team, Girl Scout/Boy Scout troop… you name it, that is truly free of bullying.
Kids are mean sometimes. It's how they are, but that does not mean that bullying is "just part of being a kid". The actual content of what we teach kids about bullying is fine, but we must adapt a "when you see it happening" attitude when we teach kids how to respond to bullying.
Let's stop looking at this issue as something that happens in other groups, other schools. Teachers, coaches, child care workers, youth leaders, camp counselors, please don't ignore it when a kid is obviously being singled out. And, speaking of obvious, bullying is often far from it. It's the way kids stand in a circle talking and won't let another child join in the group. It's the stepping on another child's heels while walking in line when the adult is at the front. It's the absence of passing to one particular team member. The response cannot be, "now, now, little Jimmy, let's be nice please". It must be a firm conversation with the bully, involving the bully's parents if necessary, that lets everyone know that bullying will not be tolerated under your supervision.
Accept it. Bullying is happening in every community. Posting on Facebook about how we want to end the national bullying crisis is lovely, but until each person takes some responsibility for this issue, things are not going to change.
Bullying has made headlines quite a bit lately with the release of the new documentary, Bully. The film follows the lives of several bullied teens throughout the course of an entire school year. While I have yet to see the film, my point is that it has brought a lot of media attention to the issue of bullying.
As a kid, I was a head taller than almost every classmate, and I was pretty bright. While I wasn't all that different from the other kids, being so tall and often the first to understand concepts in class made me just enough of an oddball to be a victim of bullying. In 1st grade, one little boy had a "clubhouse" at recess, and I was not invited to join. In 2nd grade, a girl pushed me around daily while everyone was hanging up their backpacks in the classroom. In 4th grade, a couple of boys called me "smart one". In 6th grade, I had some leather shoes that I liked to wear and was called "moo shoes". These are just a few examples, and they were not isolated incidences; they happened daily for several months if not the whole school year.
I'm not trying to start a pity party here. At 20 years of age, I have some great friends and, perhaps more importantly, the freedom to avoid people who are mean. But looking back at my childhood, I can see an obvious pattern of being the victim of bullying. We learned about bullying at school, but it never occurred to me until I was older that what happened to me was bullying.
Despite being a victim of bullying, I never realized that what was happening to me was bullying, because bullying is taught to kids as something that happens to other people. "Kids, we're learning about this so that if you ever see it happening, you'll know how to respond." Are you kidding me? I have yet to see a school, youth group, sports team, Girl Scout/Boy Scout troop… you name it, that is truly free of bullying.
Kids are mean sometimes. It's how they are, but that does not mean that bullying is "just part of being a kid". The actual content of what we teach kids about bullying is fine, but we must adapt a "when you see it happening" attitude when we teach kids how to respond to bullying.
Let's stop looking at this issue as something that happens in other groups, other schools. Teachers, coaches, child care workers, youth leaders, camp counselors, please don't ignore it when a kid is obviously being singled out. And, speaking of obvious, bullying is often far from it. It's the way kids stand in a circle talking and won't let another child join in the group. It's the stepping on another child's heels while walking in line when the adult is at the front. It's the absence of passing to one particular team member. The response cannot be, "now, now, little Jimmy, let's be nice please". It must be a firm conversation with the bully, involving the bully's parents if necessary, that lets everyone know that bullying will not be tolerated under your supervision.
Accept it. Bullying is happening in every community. Posting on Facebook about how we want to end the national bullying crisis is lovely, but until each person takes some responsibility for this issue, things are not going to change.
Friday, April 13, 2012
You know you're a camp counselor when...
I got my first summer job at the age of 16 when I was hired as a camp counselor at the day camp I had attended as a camper and then CIT (counselor-in-training) almost every summer for the 7 years prior. This summer will be my fifth working with children and my fourth specifically as a camp counselor. I also volunteered as a religious school aide for five years during middle school and high school and, since August 2010, have been teaching the 1st/2nd grade religious school class. I have come to realize over these past several years that working with kids is absolutely my passion, even my "calling", if you will.
Kids are funny, and working with them makes you a little goofy as well. Following the trend of lists titled "you know you're _____ when…", this is my list for being a camp counselor.
You know you're a camp counselor when…
You can think of more than three name games off the top of your head and could effectively lead one with no prior notice.
You regularly refer to your campers/students as "my kids" and people give you strange looks, sometimes even asking in disbelief if you really do have children of your own.
Your best stories involve something funny a kid said or did.
You can turn any activity into a game on the spot.
You take great pride in watching your campers/students accomplish something that you helped them achieve.
You have no shame in screaming silly songs at the top of your lungs.
During your hour off (overnight camp) or when you get home from work (day camp), you lie down and immediately pass out from exhaustion.
You would rather spend the day corralling 20 nine-year-olds than have to deal with one angry parent.
You know how to play more than two variations of dodgeball.
You realize all the other competitors are under the age of 10, but still, winning a game gives you a boost of self-confidence.
You are a pro at coming up with cheers for your group.
You have been asked the exact same question by more than three different children over the course of an hour.
The only time you go to the amusement park is on field trips with camp.
You have seen a child limp around all day, but when it is time for a fun game, they forget about their "injury" and go play.
Any injury that cannot be fixed with an ice pack, Band-Aid, and/or trip to the water fountain is probably a medical emergency.
You have told a child that you will not talk to them until they are wearing clothes.
You can often be seen walking around holding a giggling child upside down or on your shoulders.
You can make a crying child start laughing within minutes.
You can usually accurately guess the age of a child you have never seen before.
You have no problem wearing a weird hat, crazy hairstyle, or inside out and backwards clothing for a whole day.
You can be dressed and ready to go after swimming in under five minutes.
You can put sunscreen on twenty kids in a matter of minutes.
You have ever been given a presentation by an insurance company representative or watched a DVD provided by an insurance company outlining ridiculous things not to do with your children that someone has actually done before.
You can carry on a non-child appropriate conversation with another adult in such a way that no kids pick up on what you are actually talking about.
You have ever laid on the floor during group time and conducted a "contest" with your co to see which kid could give the best back massages.
You have ever repeatedly announced a group bathroom break only to have a kid come tell you they need to go to the bathroom the second you return.
You have a plethora of staff shirts that you rarely wear but refuse to donate or throw away.
You have never had to sign up for a CPR/first aid class because you get re-certified every year during staff week.
You have learned that regardless of what you say around middle schoolers, they will find a way to turn it into something dirty.
Kids are funny, and working with them makes you a little goofy as well. Following the trend of lists titled "you know you're _____ when…", this is my list for being a camp counselor.
You know you're a camp counselor when…
You can think of more than three name games off the top of your head and could effectively lead one with no prior notice.
You regularly refer to your campers/students as "my kids" and people give you strange looks, sometimes even asking in disbelief if you really do have children of your own.
Your best stories involve something funny a kid said or did.
You can turn any activity into a game on the spot.
You take great pride in watching your campers/students accomplish something that you helped them achieve.
You have no shame in screaming silly songs at the top of your lungs.
During your hour off (overnight camp) or when you get home from work (day camp), you lie down and immediately pass out from exhaustion.
You would rather spend the day corralling 20 nine-year-olds than have to deal with one angry parent.
You know how to play more than two variations of dodgeball.
You realize all the other competitors are under the age of 10, but still, winning a game gives you a boost of self-confidence.
You are a pro at coming up with cheers for your group.
You have been asked the exact same question by more than three different children over the course of an hour.
The only time you go to the amusement park is on field trips with camp.
You have seen a child limp around all day, but when it is time for a fun game, they forget about their "injury" and go play.
Any injury that cannot be fixed with an ice pack, Band-Aid, and/or trip to the water fountain is probably a medical emergency.
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| image from www.gymnasticsnevada.com |
You can often be seen walking around holding a giggling child upside down or on your shoulders.
You can make a crying child start laughing within minutes.
You can usually accurately guess the age of a child you have never seen before.
You have no problem wearing a weird hat, crazy hairstyle, or inside out and backwards clothing for a whole day.
You can be dressed and ready to go after swimming in under five minutes.
You can put sunscreen on twenty kids in a matter of minutes.
You have ever been given a presentation by an insurance company representative or watched a DVD provided by an insurance company outlining ridiculous things not to do with your children that someone has actually done before.
You can carry on a non-child appropriate conversation with another adult in such a way that no kids pick up on what you are actually talking about.
You have ever laid on the floor during group time and conducted a "contest" with your co to see which kid could give the best back massages.
You have ever repeatedly announced a group bathroom break only to have a kid come tell you they need to go to the bathroom the second you return.
You have a plethora of staff shirts that you rarely wear but refuse to donate or throw away.
You have never had to sign up for a CPR/first aid class because you get re-certified every year during staff week.
You have learned that regardless of what you say around middle schoolers, they will find a way to turn it into something dirty.
Friday, February 17, 2012
David
It was the very beginning of spring semester 2011, so either January or February. A career fair was happening over a two-day period at the newly finished convention center, and my English teacher was offering extra credit for going. Naturally, I decided to stop by. I planned to just grab a handout to prove that I was there, and maybe walk around for a few minutes, but I ended up doing something there that really changed my life.
All throughout my life, I had been actively involved in volunteer work and community service. When I was little, I mostly tagged along with my mom to various volunteer projects she was doing. As I got older, I started my own volunteering, and as I teen, my main volunteer job was being an aide in my temple's religious school. For five years in middle and high school, I came almost every Sunday during the school year and worked for two and a half hours. I was in the kindergarten for three years and the third grade for two. However, after I graduated from high school and went away to college, I wasn't involved in volunteer work like I had been all my life.
I was moseying through the fair, glancing at each booth, when one caught my eye: Big Brothers Big Sisters. I had heard of the organization before; I passed a BBBS clothing donation center every day on my drive to and from school. I never gave it much thought, though, because volunteers with this organization have to be at least eighteen. When I saw the BBBS booth at the career fair, it occurred to me that, at nineteen, I was eligible to be a Big in the program. I also realized that I wasn't doing much volunteer work at all anymore. I approached the table and stayed for awhile, learning more about the organization. Before leaving, I signed up to be a volunteer.
The interview and matching process was pretty lengthy. I heard somewhere that the organization spends $500 making each match, which includes interviews with parents, children, and prospective volunteers, and extensive background checks. (I don't know if that figure is accurate, but they are definitely very thorough.) I was interviewed about myself, my past experiences, and my interests to help the match specialist find a kid who would be compatible. I was also fingerprinted (each finger on both hands!) and background checked. Within a few months, I was informed that I passed the background check (shocker) and was going to be accepted as a volunteer. At that point, I was eligible to be matched with a child.
It was several weeks or maybe even over a month before I was matched. I remember the moment very well. I was at the dining hall eating dinner with friends and saw that I had a missed call from BBBS. I got up from the table and returned the call. The voice on the other end told me I was going to be matched with a six-year-old boy named David, and how soon could I meet him. I was so excited! Unfortunately, the end of the semester was quickly approaching, and I would be living at home three hours away for summer break. As much as I wanted to meet my new Little Brother right away, the BBBS staff and I both knew it was in David's best interest not to meet me once and then not see me again for three months.
After a whole summer of anticipation, I finally met David the week I returned to school in August. It was a Friday afternoon, and I got to the office before David and his mom. I was sitting in the main room waiting when in came a little boy. It had been over three months since I found out that I was going to be David's Big Sister, and in that time I had formed a picture of what he would look and act like. He was totally different. We were put in a room together to chat and get to know each other, and he hovered over the little toys he had brought, explaining them to me in such a soft voice, and rarely making eye contact. I had been told that David and I would be a great match because we are both high energy people, so I was confused and a little concerned by this behavior. Nonetheless, David, his mom, the match specialist, and I all signed a lot of paperwork that day, and with that, the match was officially in effect until the following August, when we would reassess and have the option to renew for another year.
I am amazed at how far we have come from that day. I now realize that David was behaving like any typical six-year-old would when put in a room with a total stranger for fifteen minutes. He is now seven, and we are much more comfortable talking to each other and being together. For over six months now, excluding the five or so weeks I was home for winter break, I have spent time with David consistently. We usually spend 2-4 hours together each week. We have done so many different activities together, including cooking, swimming, Zumba, going to the pumpkin patch/corn maze, and attending a September 11 memorial event. Recently, I took David on his first ever hike. It was a little over a mile each way, and we had lunch at the waterfall at the halfway point. On the way back to the car, he told me it was the best day of his life. I have tried, especially lately, to encourage our meetings to include activities David has never done before. I tell him he can go swimming anytime, but he might only get to go hiking with me.
It's pretty cool how big of an impact a small amount of time can have, and I think we have both benefited. I have gained experience interacting with a child, and I get to do activities that I would never do at my age if I wasn't with David. David is learning new skills and trying new activities, and he has an additional adult in his life who cares about him. It has been an almost exclusively positive experience for me, and I hope to continue to be matched with David for the next two and a half years I have left of college. This weekend we are going mini golfing- another new activity for David!
All throughout my life, I had been actively involved in volunteer work and community service. When I was little, I mostly tagged along with my mom to various volunteer projects she was doing. As I got older, I started my own volunteering, and as I teen, my main volunteer job was being an aide in my temple's religious school. For five years in middle and high school, I came almost every Sunday during the school year and worked for two and a half hours. I was in the kindergarten for three years and the third grade for two. However, after I graduated from high school and went away to college, I wasn't involved in volunteer work like I had been all my life.
I was moseying through the fair, glancing at each booth, when one caught my eye: Big Brothers Big Sisters. I had heard of the organization before; I passed a BBBS clothing donation center every day on my drive to and from school. I never gave it much thought, though, because volunteers with this organization have to be at least eighteen. When I saw the BBBS booth at the career fair, it occurred to me that, at nineteen, I was eligible to be a Big in the program. I also realized that I wasn't doing much volunteer work at all anymore. I approached the table and stayed for awhile, learning more about the organization. Before leaving, I signed up to be a volunteer.
The interview and matching process was pretty lengthy. I heard somewhere that the organization spends $500 making each match, which includes interviews with parents, children, and prospective volunteers, and extensive background checks. (I don't know if that figure is accurate, but they are definitely very thorough.) I was interviewed about myself, my past experiences, and my interests to help the match specialist find a kid who would be compatible. I was also fingerprinted (each finger on both hands!) and background checked. Within a few months, I was informed that I passed the background check (shocker) and was going to be accepted as a volunteer. At that point, I was eligible to be matched with a child.
It was several weeks or maybe even over a month before I was matched. I remember the moment very well. I was at the dining hall eating dinner with friends and saw that I had a missed call from BBBS. I got up from the table and returned the call. The voice on the other end told me I was going to be matched with a six-year-old boy named David, and how soon could I meet him. I was so excited! Unfortunately, the end of the semester was quickly approaching, and I would be living at home three hours away for summer break. As much as I wanted to meet my new Little Brother right away, the BBBS staff and I both knew it was in David's best interest not to meet me once and then not see me again for three months.
After a whole summer of anticipation, I finally met David the week I returned to school in August. It was a Friday afternoon, and I got to the office before David and his mom. I was sitting in the main room waiting when in came a little boy. It had been over three months since I found out that I was going to be David's Big Sister, and in that time I had formed a picture of what he would look and act like. He was totally different. We were put in a room together to chat and get to know each other, and he hovered over the little toys he had brought, explaining them to me in such a soft voice, and rarely making eye contact. I had been told that David and I would be a great match because we are both high energy people, so I was confused and a little concerned by this behavior. Nonetheless, David, his mom, the match specialist, and I all signed a lot of paperwork that day, and with that, the match was officially in effect until the following August, when we would reassess and have the option to renew for another year.
I am amazed at how far we have come from that day. I now realize that David was behaving like any typical six-year-old would when put in a room with a total stranger for fifteen minutes. He is now seven, and we are much more comfortable talking to each other and being together. For over six months now, excluding the five or so weeks I was home for winter break, I have spent time with David consistently. We usually spend 2-4 hours together each week. We have done so many different activities together, including cooking, swimming, Zumba, going to the pumpkin patch/corn maze, and attending a September 11 memorial event. Recently, I took David on his first ever hike. It was a little over a mile each way, and we had lunch at the waterfall at the halfway point. On the way back to the car, he told me it was the best day of his life. I have tried, especially lately, to encourage our meetings to include activities David has never done before. I tell him he can go swimming anytime, but he might only get to go hiking with me.
It's pretty cool how big of an impact a small amount of time can have, and I think we have both benefited. I have gained experience interacting with a child, and I get to do activities that I would never do at my age if I wasn't with David. David is learning new skills and trying new activities, and he has an additional adult in his life who cares about him. It has been an almost exclusively positive experience for me, and I hope to continue to be matched with David for the next two and a half years I have left of college. This weekend we are going mini golfing- another new activity for David!
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