Nope. I've got a corner on the "single to the extreme" market.
But if you asked me two summers ago, I might have said I had 30 nine-year-olds.
(30 nine-year-olds not 39-year-olds... big difference)
I was a day camp counselor and I loved it. Some days, I really hated it. It was hard. But, overall, I really loved it.
On my very first day of orientation, I sat in a conference room for a couple of hours and was told the protocol of how to be just a generic employee. There were lifeguards and supervisors and people who were hired who would never interact with children sitting in that training.
The lady was pretty fierce and she seriously got her points across. I will never forget one thing she said about working with children. I don't remember exactly how she said it, but it was pretty much, "kids don't need your pity. That doesn't help them."
That scared me. I'm the youngest in my family and I never really babysat growing up. I wasn't very confident in being hired to be a day camp counselor and then I was scared. I was scared I would go in and pity the children and be the worst leader ever.
I turned up for work the next week pretty nervous. I spent most of my time that summer with munchkins under the age of 10. I got the hang of the situation eventually. I don't remember when I stopped being nervous, though. I remember learning how to be in charge of an activity. I learned what activities would be a hit with the group and which games I'd have to work really hard to sell to get them to participate. I learned how to discipline and how to avoid hurting 9-year-old feelings.
I learned a lot that summer. I also learned a lot about the kids' family situations. Most of them were not ideal. Just the fact that the kids spent their summer in an all-day summer camp implied the limited amount of family time most of the kids had.
The most important thing I learned that summer, however, was that kids are smart. Have you hung around kids recently? Sure, mock the generation for their obsession with Justin Bieber or belittle them for their sense of entitlement. But have you spent time with kids? Talked to them? Listened to them? You'll probably learn what I did:
Kids are smart.
I was fell for more riddles that summer than I would care to admit. I even fell for the "Ms. Sarah, you're funny... funny looking!" That was a big hit to my pride.
But it wasn't the wit of the kids that taught me how smart kids are. It was little things. It was when I couldn't hide that I came to work 10 minutes late one day and they called me out on it. It was when they would question stupid rules that I questioned too. It was when they did exactly what I said, but found the loophole to get around what I really wanted. It was when they actually would do what we needed them to. It was when they showed more maturity than I felt I ever had. It was when they would sit with new kids. It was when they asked me questions I honestly had no idea the answers to. It was when they would accept "I don't know" from me as an answer when I honestly didn't know.
It was all these things and a million more.
Kids are dang smart.
I'll admit it. That surprised me. I was genuinely surprised to learn how smart kids are. But they are. Sure, they make mistakes, but they're human. When's the last time you made a mistake? I guarantee it wasn't back when you were 8.
Kids are smart.
No one has a perfect life and just the fact that kids are little doesn't exclude them from that truth. Kids have struggles. They have bad days. They get sad. They get moody sometimes. They get annoyed at things.
Sound familiar? If you're honest with yourself, you'll find I just described you. I just described everyone.
Kids need to work hard to muck through all their trials. The kids I worked with (9-year-olds) were coming up to the age where they would have to figure out who they are and what they would stand for while still trying to understand about this crazy world and learn and live up to what is expected of them day-to-day. Remember that? It was hard. It's still hard for them.
I can now agree with that scary orientation lady 100% without a speck of doubt in my mind.
Kids most definitely do NOT need your pity. What does pitying them do? From experience, it'll pretty much just annoy them.
Seriously.
They'll just be bugged and then look at you funny and ignore you and keep trying what they were doing. Kids are so great.
Towards the end of the summer, I had a morning where one of the activities was jump roping. One of my boys had obviously never jump roped before. It was so funny. He didn't know what the heck he was doing. I might have laughed to myself for a second or two (it was so cute), but there were two things I then could have done (honestly, there are probably tons. I'm not a youth development expert, although I hope to be someday).
1) I could have felt sorry for him. The kid clearly never learned how to jump rope. How did that happen? Did he get forgotten that day in PE? Did his parents never want him want to learn something "girly?" Jump roping is not the most important life skill, but it is a pretty standard kid thing to know how to do.
Or what I actually did:
2) "It works better if you hold your elbows next to your side and then just swing your arms in a circle from there. You don't have to throw your whole body, either. Just jump a little when you see the rope coming."
Which do you think was the most beneficial?
I have come up with a theory. It's based on a combination of that scary orientation lady, my youth development class last semester and my personal experience with these dang smart kids. Ready? Here goes.
Kids don't need your pity; they need your help.
It's true. They don't need pity. They just need you by their side to help them, as they need it, as they make their way growing up. Don't hold their hand too much. Don't take away their growing experiences and sugar-coat life until they turn 18. Don't dump too much reality on them at once. Let them be kids. Recognize their intelligence and abilities. Just help them. Be there. Teach them. Kids are smart.
I can't tell you how to do all these things. I sure don't know. I'm still learning. But I know it's worth it. Why?
Because, most importantly, kids are important.
They'll make it. Just help them out.
I plan to.
