I spend several days a week working for a local women and children's shelter. Not so many years ago the thought would have been ridiculous to me. I didn't always think children were so wonderful. It's not that I disliked children. I just couldn't see the attraction. Sure, they're cute, but they also need loads of attention, they bite, and can anyone really understand what a toddler is saying? I still have my doubts. But life presented me with a series of unexpected opportunities and invaluable lessons and now I find myself looking forward to each evening with a dozen little precious monsters.
My afternoon starts with tutoring. This goes for the moms and children alike. Sometimes I get frustrated when I can't help. There's only so much I can break down the number "2." It's a candy cane with a foot. Just keep practicing. I try to get them excited about school, but I always make it clear that it is their homework, not mine, and I can't make them do it. They need to find their own motivation to finish. I won't always be around.
Then comes dinner time. It's simple enough; Encourage all children to use silver ware, try to make vegetables sound like magic, and fetch a towel when one of them inevitably spills (or throws) something. It's also the time when you get to hold babies! We have a few infants at the shelter right now so while mamas are busy the staff take turns cuddling and cooing. *love*
After that is group. Aaaah group. Group is the time in the evening where the children and moms do things they need to do. For moms this might be access to counseling or financial classes. For the children this means finally being able to do something out of moms sight.
Working with the teen group can be either fascinating and dull. Sometimes all they want to do is play video games (blah), but sometimes we have serious discussions. We talk about language sensitivity and social justice. (How cool is that?) I learn that not one of them identifies as homeless and that the social stigma against poverty and addiction can live strong even in those that witness it. Teenagers have the same critical thinking skills as an adult. The difference is merely their framework for the world. Being able to watch them build that framework gives me such a sense of awe and wonderment.
Then there's the toddler group. Everything the teen group is, toddler group is not. Toddler group (actually full of children under 6) is chaos and clutter and noise... and it's also where I feel the strongest.
This picture? This picture is a lie! No one is crying or hitting or stealing that one part that everyone wants to play with from that one kid who has it. No one in this picture needs to pee.
I can't even FIND a picture of unhappy screaming childrento illustrate the reality of the situation. Just picture five of these.
Today it took about five minutes for five children to completely annihilate a playroom. It's usually not quite so bad, but we have a new batch of children who have yet to learn the basics of playroom etiquette. Things like "you may not have all six bouncy balls to yourself" or "the baby is not a toy. No you may not borrow her to push around in the mini shopping cart."
Part of the secret to maintaining control is to never ever take anything personally. Never get angry. They're not trying to upset you or be disruptive. It is their solution to a perceived problem. You start by presenting them with a new, preferable, solution and go from there. Twenty minutes later, one call for help, and one child dismissed (just because you give them a new solution doesn't mean they'll use it) and I had four little ones sitting around a table coloring. THAT is freakin' success. Notice I didn't say quietly. There's this weird belief that children that are quiet are on their best behavior. That's bull. It usually means you've bored them into a stupor or terrified them into silence. I'd much prefer happy chatter.
An announcement alerts the children that moms are coming to pick them up. This sends all of them into a tizzy. Mom's return is a big celebration. One that usually results in all children abandoning their play area, toys and all. Of course, there is one little boy who dutifully cleans up after himself. He's more than willing to clean up after everyone else and, as nice as that is, I have to let him know he's free to go and everyone else will pick up their own toys. There is always a feeling of relief when I get to turn out the lights and lock the door behind me.
After a quick check in with the other staff persons we grab out coats and head home. I usually finish my nights with a short walk. After the noise and the chaos and the constant action plunging into a cool autumn night studded with Cleveland lights can be breath-taking. These walks are my time to process and find myself. Some nights there's a lot to think about.
I love my service site, but there are subtle reminders that my job exists because of someone else's tragedy. I know the mother of the infant I hold at dinner is soo much younger than I am. I have to adjust my tutoring to the fifth grader with second grade math skills. And a harmless group full of playdough can quickly turn into therapy as a 3 year old begins to recount tragedy, in the matter-of-fact way that small children often do. It's strange to hear sad stories being told without any note of sadness. They lived their trauma. They have no opposing framework, no frame of reference that tells them anything was wrong. I listen quietly and ask how they feel. I try to leave therapy to the therapists so my job is mostly to listen and make sure that, for the moment, they feel safe and loved.
That is my job, to teach them that they are loved, and, surrounded by the Cleveland lights and autumn leaves, I could not be happier.
~Jennifer
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