The latest issue of the newsletter went out today. It was the tenth issue, and it's been a year since I started it at all. It has come so far. The current editor put together a fantastic piece about inequality and how it relates to children's rights and our work. You can find the newsletter here, if you're interested. The fact that it exists at all is a major accomplishment, and I'm very proud.
Getting wrapped up in trying to learn a CMS or a CRM can sometimes prevent me from visiting my kids. My pride and joy of a reading program has faltered thanks to days and nights spend planning "the tour", helping out with decision-making within the org and just doing my job. I'm usually a very "behind the scenes" kind of person, but recently I've become much more active in the day-to-day, and less obsessed with the future and growth.
Which is why, when Liz told me we were taking kids to the movies, I jumped at the chance. The jardin is one of my favorite places. The kids are anything but standoffish, and desperately want to know you and play with you and talk to you the minute you walk in the door. Taking them to see Ratatouille, on the micro no less, sounded like the best thing one could do on a Wednesday morning.
I had no idea.
These kids are hilarious. We walked down the street, everyone holding hands and singing "Vamos al paseo beep beep beep, en un auto feo beep beep beep." There are more words than that, but since Tia Lauren couldn't remember them, we just sang those over and over again. I never realized just how high up those micro stairs are, but trying to get 12 four year olds into a bus with any speed is next to impossible, unless you have the help of every Chilean man on the bus, who can't resist the urge to help a gringa in distress.
I knew the movies would be a big deal. A multi-plex, bright, colorful and full of noises and sounds, is overwhelming for anyone. For a child going to the movies for the first time, it was...an assault on the senses. The lifesized cardboard cutouts served as hiding places and new friends. The blue and red carpet seemed like a perfect place to take a nap after a lively round of "arroz con leche".
But nothing could compare to Michael Jackson. As Liz negotiated the box office lines, where the only tickets left were for Shrek 3, the kids caught a glimpse of a TV monitor playing the Thriller video. They were equal parts enthralled and appalled by what they saw, and the volunteers were too busy grinning stupidly at how happy the kids were to notice that they thought it was the movie. After MJ's 10 minute masterpiece ended, the kids grabbed our hands and were ready to head home.
I've told this story many times, sometimes in an effort to explain what it is that I do, and why I do it. Other times just to make people smile. Most people get that, but occasionally I tell someone and they say to me "That must make you feel so good. To give something to the poor kids."
Like a punch to the gut.
Poverty is part of my daily life, but not in a way that makes me feel like my taking children to the movies is somehow going to save them. These kids may be from the campamento, but they're kids just like any other kids. I remember my first trip to the movies: excitement, fear, confusion, Snow White. Their fascination with zombie videos had little to do with money, and everything to do with youth. The most important thing that I can tell anyone is that children need attention and love, and that's what our volunteers provide. Not ipods or an expensive pair of shoes, but a first experience. Like meeting a famous futbolista. Or having a proud face in the crowd when they win an award at school. Rich kids need that as much as the poor. We all do.
Getting wrapped up in trying to learn a CMS or a CRM can sometimes prevent me from visiting my kids. My pride and joy of a reading program has faltered thanks to days and nights spend planning "the tour", helping out with decision-making within the org and just doing my job. I'm usually a very "behind the scenes" kind of person, but recently I've become much more active in the day-to-day, and less obsessed with the future and growth.
Which is why, when Liz told me we were taking kids to the movies, I jumped at the chance. The jardin is one of my favorite places. The kids are anything but standoffish, and desperately want to know you and play with you and talk to you the minute you walk in the door. Taking them to see Ratatouille, on the micro no less, sounded like the best thing one could do on a Wednesday morning.
I had no idea.
These kids are hilarious. We walked down the street, everyone holding hands and singing "Vamos al paseo beep beep beep, en un auto feo beep beep beep." There are more words than that, but since Tia Lauren couldn't remember them, we just sang those over and over again. I never realized just how high up those micro stairs are, but trying to get 12 four year olds into a bus with any speed is next to impossible, unless you have the help of every Chilean man on the bus, who can't resist the urge to help a gringa in distress.
I knew the movies would be a big deal. A multi-plex, bright, colorful and full of noises and sounds, is overwhelming for anyone. For a child going to the movies for the first time, it was...an assault on the senses. The lifesized cardboard cutouts served as hiding places and new friends. The blue and red carpet seemed like a perfect place to take a nap after a lively round of "arroz con leche".
But nothing could compare to Michael Jackson. As Liz negotiated the box office lines, where the only tickets left were for Shrek 3, the kids caught a glimpse of a TV monitor playing the Thriller video. They were equal parts enthralled and appalled by what they saw, and the volunteers were too busy grinning stupidly at how happy the kids were to notice that they thought it was the movie. After MJ's 10 minute masterpiece ended, the kids grabbed our hands and were ready to head home.
I've told this story many times, sometimes in an effort to explain what it is that I do, and why I do it. Other times just to make people smile. Most people get that, but occasionally I tell someone and they say to me "That must make you feel so good. To give something to the poor kids."
Like a punch to the gut.
Poverty is part of my daily life, but not in a way that makes me feel like my taking children to the movies is somehow going to save them. These kids may be from the campamento, but they're kids just like any other kids. I remember my first trip to the movies: excitement, fear, confusion, Snow White. Their fascination with zombie videos had little to do with money, and everything to do with youth. The most important thing that I can tell anyone is that children need attention and love, and that's what our volunteers provide. Not ipods or an expensive pair of shoes, but a first experience. Like meeting a famous futbolista. Or having a proud face in the crowd when they win an award at school. Rich kids need that as much as the poor. We all do.
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