Volunteering for what, exactly?

I love volunteering at my sons’ school.  Elementary-age kids celebrate things that I would otherwise take for granted. I go in every chance I get.  The amount the teachers need you tapers off so that after 2nd grade you’re lucky if they let you in the door at all.   You can imagine my delight when the parents were asked to help out with an Ellis Island immigration project the kids were doing in the 5^th grade.

My first day with the older students I didn’t feel very helpful, sort of standing around, filling paint cups.  Then I got smart, walked away from the art table and started talking to some of the kids who were behind on their written work.  I spent a lot of time with one boy in particular who either had learning disabilities, family problems, or both.  He was sweet and earnest and his eyes lit up from the attention.

“Okay, the assignment is to think of 10 things that your person would pack in his suitcase for the journey to Ellis Island and you need to be able to explain why you chose them.”  I glanced at his list.

“Can your person read?”

“No.”

“Then why would he pack a book?”

“Because he is Catholic and it’s a Bible?”

“Good rationale.  Make a note that it’s the Bible.  That’s an important detail.”

He got a huge grin and I could tell we were on a roll.  He went through his list of things, from cigarettes to soap.

“Nice, you have a well thought-out list.  What will you make or bring from home for each of these things?”

I wasn’t sure why, but I got a funny feeling about his home life.  There were other kids struggling academically.  I didn’t pick up on any body language and he never said anything odd except that he thought he could sneak a bar of soap.

“You don’t need to sneak anything.  No reason for it.  I’ll send a bar of soap in with Charlie.  We have some extra little ones around that look old fashioned that I think will be just perfect.”

That made him happy.  He was proud of himself--his project was shaping up and he liked the list of things that represented his character.

The next day First Born Prince was sick and stayed home from school and I didn’t walk the soap into school.  I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal.  Lots of kids were making their suitcase items out of art supplies and the teacher said the things could just be representative of what they intended their immigrant to pack.

Since then, my new friend hasn’t been in school much.  I found out he is homeless and the reason he was gong to have to sneak the soap is that his mother finds a floor for him to sleep on at various neighbors’ and friends’ houses around town.  He never quite knows where he’ll be and now I get why he was so excited I offered up some help.  I am kicking myself and keep looking for him at school.  I carry the bar of soap with me everywhere now, just in case I get the chance to show him I didn’t forget.