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May. 29th, 2002 03:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstempToday was the last official, good old fashioned Tuesday tutoring session at COCOA House for me. So sad!
I'm graduating! Things are ending! And even some things I don't *want* to end! Like COCOA House.
I didn't have anyone in particular to tutor today, and so I just wandered around and it was nice to be able to watch everything, to talk to tutors, to visit with kids. It was a nice way to end it, I think.
I stood there and looked at them all and thought: I don't want to go. And then I remembered all those afternoons where I'd just be tired or plain lazy, and I'd whine about having to go, or look forward to getting to go back to campus in the end while I was there, and I felt bad about it because I should have appreciated it while I had it. But isn't that always the way?
I'll probably go back. I'll help out with renovations of the new facility over the summer because I'll be around, and maybe peek in next year, but mostly I'll be gone. I won't be thudding down the steps every Tuesday looking to see how many kids have shown up, checking to see what faces turn to me and smile. I won't be sitting in the tiny computer/supply room trying to keep an eye on the tons of kids who pile in there, doing my best to keep my face blank and breathe normally even though the place positively REEKS of B.O. (oh, the fun of elementary kids who have yet to discover the joys of regular hygiene!). I won't be doing my best to remember the difference between xylem and phloem, or working on how to best multiply fractions, or helping to write out sentences or sound out words, or eating grapes gifted to me by tutees willing to share snack.
I've finally gotten to know all of their names and now I won't have to remember them.
Last week we had some speakers come about violence in the community where the kids live, and some people were talking about how the kids there are so completely different, like they're from an entirely different world and how can we relate? And I guess I agree, it's probably true: their neighborhood is nothing like mine, and neither are their schools or their friendships and in some cases, their families. But they are still kids, kids in the way I remember being a kid, in the way I think of childhood, but are pretty good at hiding it. You have to look for it in their sidelong glances when they say hi, in quiet times when you're one on one, or the loud ones when they're together and think nobody's looking.
And oh, I love all of them. I want them all to be ok. I want to remember them.
And so: I'll remember Erik for the way he always used to say "You're just jealous," Miranda for how she made me tutor in the pews upstairs, Jamarria for the way I learned to get kids to do their math homework by timing them, Shamia for showing me that the tough kids weren't usually so tough, Shakeelah for making me realize how important it is to remember names, Amanda A. for showing me I couldn't do everything, Rafi for making me face my irrational fears, Miguel for just being adorable, Kendall for beating me at scrabble, Brian for the flashes of intelligence and sweetness under his angry facade, Amanda P. for being sweet and getting better at reading, Chris for acting like a gangster one minute and arguing over how to best organize pens the next, Caprice for how he grew in the time I knew him, Manny for making me remember middle school bio, Mekkah for going from a little girl to someone asking for ibuprofen for her "monthly visitor," Tae for the way she laughed, Love for her sweetness, Tazaiya for her funny underhandedness, Kali for her sweet exuberance and dancing, Manny for his sly caring, and all of them for just being themselves, and making my world a bigger, better place.
I'm graduating! Things are ending! And even some things I don't *want* to end! Like COCOA House.
I didn't have anyone in particular to tutor today, and so I just wandered around and it was nice to be able to watch everything, to talk to tutors, to visit with kids. It was a nice way to end it, I think.
I stood there and looked at them all and thought: I don't want to go. And then I remembered all those afternoons where I'd just be tired or plain lazy, and I'd whine about having to go, or look forward to getting to go back to campus in the end while I was there, and I felt bad about it because I should have appreciated it while I had it. But isn't that always the way?
I'll probably go back. I'll help out with renovations of the new facility over the summer because I'll be around, and maybe peek in next year, but mostly I'll be gone. I won't be thudding down the steps every Tuesday looking to see how many kids have shown up, checking to see what faces turn to me and smile. I won't be sitting in the tiny computer/supply room trying to keep an eye on the tons of kids who pile in there, doing my best to keep my face blank and breathe normally even though the place positively REEKS of B.O. (oh, the fun of elementary kids who have yet to discover the joys of regular hygiene!). I won't be doing my best to remember the difference between xylem and phloem, or working on how to best multiply fractions, or helping to write out sentences or sound out words, or eating grapes gifted to me by tutees willing to share snack.
I've finally gotten to know all of their names and now I won't have to remember them.
Last week we had some speakers come about violence in the community where the kids live, and some people were talking about how the kids there are so completely different, like they're from an entirely different world and how can we relate? And I guess I agree, it's probably true: their neighborhood is nothing like mine, and neither are their schools or their friendships and in some cases, their families. But they are still kids, kids in the way I remember being a kid, in the way I think of childhood, but are pretty good at hiding it. You have to look for it in their sidelong glances when they say hi, in quiet times when you're one on one, or the loud ones when they're together and think nobody's looking.
And oh, I love all of them. I want them all to be ok. I want to remember them.
And so: I'll remember Erik for the way he always used to say "You're just jealous," Miranda for how she made me tutor in the pews upstairs, Jamarria for the way I learned to get kids to do their math homework by timing them, Shamia for showing me that the tough kids weren't usually so tough, Shakeelah for making me realize how important it is to remember names, Amanda A. for showing me I couldn't do everything, Rafi for making me face my irrational fears, Miguel for just being adorable, Kendall for beating me at scrabble, Brian for the flashes of intelligence and sweetness under his angry facade, Amanda P. for being sweet and getting better at reading, Chris for acting like a gangster one minute and arguing over how to best organize pens the next, Caprice for how he grew in the time I knew him, Manny for making me remember middle school bio, Mekkah for going from a little girl to someone asking for ibuprofen for her "monthly visitor," Tae for the way she laughed, Love for her sweetness, Tazaiya for her funny underhandedness, Kali for her sweet exuberance and dancing, Manny for his sly caring, and all of them for just being themselves, and making my world a bigger, better place.
