This is just a quick post before an inspection this weekend
from the teacher. Obviously life happened and things got busy and I lost track
of time and I got off track with the blogs. But honestly, not much has been
missed. Every Friday it has been the same formulaic day. I arrive rushing from
school, which means a brisk walk up hill, grab a snack, grab my folder which I
received on my training day, hop into the car, join the city traffic, get to
the center, check in with my mentor, find out what work is cut out for me for
that evening, and hit the floor running. For the last few Fridays that I was
volunteering I was in charge of watching a group of children ranging in age
from about one to seven. The number of these children ranged too every Friday,
from three to five. The children were in my care while their mothers were in a
class provided there at the center. At first, this task was dreaded. For one,
the younger children only spoke a Chinese dialect and being still young, did
not want to be out of their mothers' presence. Secondly, since there was a wide
range in ages, one activity is not going to be enough to keep all of them
engaged and happy. But as the Friday’s progressed the children got more used to
me and did not cry as much and thus became easier to entertain them. on the my
last Friday at work my heart strings were definitely tugged at when one of the
younger children called me "sister" which was translated to me by the
girl's mother as they were leaving the center after the class had finished. I
have four older siblings, and have friends who refer to me as
"sister" but being called sister by this little girl who I had been
watching for the past few Fridays and had been the cause of much stress in my
head was something special. One of the jobs I can see me doing in the future is
working at a daycare. For the past seven summers I have been working at a pre-k
where I have met numerous amount of children and knew all of their names at one
point, but this one girl who called me sister, she will be etched into my
memory for a while. You choose and select which faces and names you remember
once you've been with as many children as I have been, and this girl will
definitely be one of the faces and names I keep. Once the class was over and
the children were taken home, there was clean up. Putting the toys back which
had been moved all about the center and cleaning up of food crumbs which were
also all over the place. Then it was back to the mindless entering of data,
which was enjoyed thoroughly after a hectic day. One of the Fridays I stuffed
envelopes in preparation for an upcoming gala celebrating an anniversary of the
center at which my mentor would be speaking. I went on other days besides Fridays,
a couple of Wednesdays, which was also spent entering client data and organizing
donated clothes. I thought it was funny that one of the baby shirts I ran
across was a white onesie with the Bolivian flag ironed onto it, which made me
smile because I am half Bolivian but the only time I had ever been among other Bolivians
was in Bolivia or in my family's house. Knowing that there were other Bolivians
here in the bay area was also a special moment experienced there at the center.
The last Friday I was there, the office was supposed to be closed to clients,
but it felt busier than ever. When you are a center that offers free help to
needy people, it is impossible to be closed and to turn people away
empty-handed.
