I started working a couple weeks ago at the local Boys and Girls Club and I love it. It's the perfect job for me: I get to play with kids all day and get paid for it! When I lived in Texas I worked at a branch for a few months until Phil proposed and we started our life together. The club in Texas I actually attended when I was in 2nd grade, and it was at that club where I was first introduced to racism (outside of my family, who hadn't been as openly racist that I recognized at that age). Racism, I've observed, is something passed down from generation to generation, instilled as a belief in young people by their parents and grandparents. I look forward to not passing that belief on to my children, though realize they will probably learn about it from friends (as I did).
Anyway, the club I work at now is a dream. An ocean view in the distance and a beautifully kept park full of adventurous kids is where I am employed, which is so unique for an organization that traditionally services low income families. Racism isn't an issue here, and neither is bullying or stereotypes. There is still need though, mostly emotional support and security from children left to raise themselves through the internet and materialism... so fairly normal for North America.
What struck me the other day was the abundance of opportunity that the Boys and Girls Club affords its children, no matter where the location. Children have a chance to meet the President of the United States and are selected as recipients of education grants and afforded amazing opportunities.
And then the tears came.
What about my friend Daniel in Kenya? He's about 11 years old and has no security or comfort in the world. He was left abandoned years ago (I've known him for 4 years) and has been raised by various aid organizations that see him rarely as a child but as a statistic of poverty. I wish there was a Boys and Girls Club in his town where he could go for a snack and play games that will help him develop into a functioning member of society.
But there's not.
My struggle this week is realizing not every child in the world is a child. When I'm frustrated with 9 year old Billy at work for giving me attitude and being disrespectful to his peers, I have compassion with him in realizing that his behavior is modeled from his culture. But maybe in 10 years Billy will meet a Daniel, and he will remember his childhood at the Boys and Girls Club and will create one for the homeless youth of the world.
Ever Hopeful,
Dalene
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