This week I was playing little time-wasting game with the kids at work that I called “Do The RIGHT Thing.” The basics of the game are this: I ask a thought-provoking moral question or ask your opinion on a controversial issue. You can only speak if you’re holding the Right Guard deodorant stick (left over from the Passport To Manhood classes we held last month).
The questions were rather easy. If you found a wallet with $500 cash in it, would you try to return it? and If your best friend was wearing something that made her look ugly, would you tell her? That kind of stuff.
There’s no right or wrong answer. We just discussed our feelings about the questions I asked and that was that.
One of my questions was, If you could tell one lie that would make you filthy rich, would you do it?
The conversation went back and forth. Some kids say, “no way” because they would be unable to enjoy wealth based on a lie. Other kids said they’d lie and later use their newfound wealth on good. Then the Right Guard was passed to one of my favorites, Brian (who I’ve written about here) and he said, “Hannah Montana told a lie and she has made a lot of money and I think she’s very happy. So I would tell the lie to make money.”
I never realized what a shitty role model Hannah Montana is.
On Monday at the Club we had the pleasure of hosting a wonderful man who came to speak with our youth members about a book that he wrote. This guy climbed Mt. Everest and had an incredible story to share. Incredible.
His hour-long presentation included pictures, crazy stories about people dying up there, lessons about other cultures and life-altering epiphanies he had on the world’s largest mountain.
His presentation was awesome. He is from London and had a rather thick accent, and he wore hiking boots, tight black jeans and a tucked-in polo shirt. You could kind of tell that he wasn’t really experienced talking to really young children because he wasn’t too engaging…but his story kind of spoke for itself.
After his presentation, he made a little joke about the real reason he wanted to climb the world’s largest mountain was so he could post the photos on his Facebook page – an arguably funny joke…but totally lost on th five-year-olds in the room. And then he clapped his hands once and said, “So…are there any questions?”
And a six-year-old named Brian (who is slowly becoming one of my favorite kids) raised his hand and literally jumped to his feet.
The speaker pointed to Brian and said “yes. you. what is your question?”
And Brian asked, “Why is your shirt tucked in like that?”
A couple of weeks ago I was sitting in on a drawing lesson that was happening at my Club. During the lesson a six-year old named Armando decided to draw a portrait of me.
It was a decent drawing, but my ears were a bit big and slightly pointy.
I gave the normal encouraging comments. “Wow that looks good” kind of shit, and all of my praise made the other kids in the lesson curious about the picture. That’s when another six-year-old named Edward made a pretty good observation, “That looks like Mr. Mike if he was an elf.”
All the kids laughed. I’m kind of a jokester…so I get teased a lot. That’s when another little said, “Mr. Mike is an elf.” More kids laughed. Remember we’re talking six-year-olds here. Their humor is a little less refined.
After the entire room is worked up about the Mr-Mike-Is-An-Elf comment, Edward put together a gem that I hope won’t stick. “We should call him Milf,” he said. MILF. As in…well, I’ll let Wikipedia explain why that’s funny (if you don’t know):
Now I’ve got 30 little kindergarten/1st graders running around calling me “Milf” and laughing. I really hope it stops…the first step to stopping this nickname probably is to suppress my laughter when I hear it.
I’ve got a new hoodie on…and it’s super comfortable and cute.
I got my haircut yesterday, and it looks pretty sharp.
I just listened to the most recent holiday special of Game Night Guys called Xboxmas! and it was freaking funny and put together really well (you should really listen).
It’s a really good day.
And then when I got to The Club this morning one of the members brought me a present and a card. This is the same kid that pooped on the floor, has been in a half-dozen fist fights, runs from the building when confronted, has stolen things and has narrated my nightmares for the past six months.
And anyone that works with children can tell you that even though they take up the majority of our time and effort, these kids with behavioral issues are the ones that need us the most, and they are the ones that make our jobs the most rewarding. Here’s a photo I took from the card that he wrote me:
Yesterday afternoon at The Club (not to be confused with Da Club) I went to the restroom and saw 6-year-old Tony walking out of the bathroom with a really wet t-shirt.
“What happened to your t-shirt?” I asked. He didn’t stop walking, but he turned and walked backward as he responded.
“Well it got wet when I was washing my face,” he told me. Still walking away from me.
“Why were you washing your face at 4 in the afternoon?” I inquired.
“Well you know how sometimes when you are going pee and you get it on your face? I like to wash it off.” Then he turned around and skipped toward the gym.
First, I must offer a piece of background information: here in the beautiful Valley of The Sun, the company SRP holds a monopoly on supplying electricity to all homes and businesses. If you’re reading this somewhere other than AZ, you might not know this information.
Alright…now onto the story.
Last week we had two power-outages in the building I work in. It was still kind of light out, but that didn’t stop the kids from screaming and acting like it was a scene straight out of Paranormal Activity 2.
Our lights came on, and we resumed our normal activities and a mom came in to pick up her son and told me that the grocery store down the street was closing because they were still without power. I calmly walked to all of my instructors to give them some instructions on what to do if the power goes out again and to pass out flashlights. When I was in the performing arts room, a seven-year old named Pablo overheard me talking to the dance teacher and chimed in. “You know, Mr. Mike if the power keeps going out all you have to do is go to Walgreens and they have an SRP box. Once you put some money in your lights will work.”
I laughed and felt sorry that the kid knew about having his power switched off. It was like the feeling of eating a chocolate-covered pretzel…salty and sweet, except this was cute and depressing.
At my place of employment we hold a monthly family night where we invite the families to come hang out and take part in an event. A couple of weeks ago the receptionist made a big sign promoting the monthly get-together which was a Bingo Night. Prizes. Food. Fun. And of course, Bingo.
The big sign was hung in our lobby, and I was standing at the front desk pretending to look busy when a six-year-old named Joshua walked by on his way to the restroom. All of the sudden I heard little Joshua yell, “There’s no F***n BINGO!”
“Excuse me, Joshua?” I said as I leaned over the counter to give him my evil-principal look.
He was standing next to the big BINGO poster pointing at it. The receptionist couldn’t find any BINGO related clip art so she made her own. She used pictures of pool balls, but added BINGO numbers to them. She added “B1″ and “N37″ and “F17.” Joshua was pointing to the “F17″ and he wanted me to know that there was “No F in BINGO.” Not that there was “No F**n BINGO.”
Hopefully you have a story. In the past few months I’ve had conversations with people about work and I’ve found that a lot of people can’t tell me why they do what they do. There has to be a reason. At least tell me that it’s easy work for a decent wage. I’d respect that more than the lazy I don’t really know answer.
Why do I do what I do? I’m the program director for a youth-serving non-profit in Tempe, Arizona. We run really affordable character enhancing programs for kids, and offer a safe, fun and positive place for kids to be during non-school hours.
And here’s why I do it:
When I left my third grade classroom on June 15, 1990 at Salk Elementary School there was no way for my 9-year-old brain to predict or imagine that one of my classmates, Autumn Wallace, was about to be brutally and senselessly murdered.
As usual, Autumn parted ways with us at Chanticleer Road. Joshua, Jennifer and I walked north on Gilbert Street toward our apartment complex; Autumn walked east toward her empty home. An hour or two later Maria del Rosio Alfaro knocked on Autumn’s door. Rosie was a family friend, so Autumn let her in.
Rosie stabbed Autumn 57 times and stole $300 worth of property from the house. Autumn’s mom Linda found Autumn dead hours after that.
Statistically speaking, there is a really large window in our society that needs to be shut. Between the hours of 3pm and 6pm more children and teens are the victims of violent crimes than any other times. Additionally, this same window is when children and teens find the most trouble and are the perpetrators in crimes.
Without a It’s-A-Wonderful-Life-like moment, it’s kind of impossible to figure out if the work that I have done has actually saved anyone from a fate like Autumn Wallace’s, or if we’ve inspired any children to break a cycle of crime or violence. (Even though I still would love to run down the street yelling “Hello, Bedford Falls! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas, Emporium! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan! Hey! Merry Christmas, Mr. Potter!”)
But I’ve got my reason. It’s a reason that gets me out of bed every morning. It’s a reason that makes Mondays easier to handle. And it’s an answer for the question Why do you do what you do? So tell me…why do you do what you do?
At my place of employment we hold a monthly family night where we invite the families to come hang out and take part in an event. A couple of weeks ago the receptionist made a big sign promoting the monthly get-together which was a Bingo Night. Prizes. Food. Fun. And of course, Bingo.
