This weekend was our first experience of 'Respite Care'. In Sophia language, this refers to a service provided by the organization in which children come and stay in the living space with the interns in an informal environment from Friday evening to Sunday morning. This provides a positive, safe environment for the children as well as an opportunity for their overworked parents to have a bit of peace and quiet, aka, 'respite'.
On Friday as we are wrapping up with daily duties, sweeping floors flecked with bits of graham cracker and play-dough, mopping pee-pee out of bathroom corners, stocking diapers and prepping cradles and changing trashes the children begin to arrive. A good part of the closing duties on this day, however, are devoted to preparing the spaces for the arrival of the young ones. This will include laying out in array a large assortment of games, books, beading kits and knitting options. Likewise the spare bedrooms are stocked with fresh bedding,bathrobes, slippers, etc. By 6 PM the children who will be staying for the weekend have usually arrived in full. The children who come for respite care will often not be the same children with whom we work during the week. Often times the children will be older, either elder siblings of the younger ones we are working with or Sophia Project alum (graduation occurring in kindergarten). This time our guests were six girls - four 11 year olds and two 7 year olds. This effectively doubled the amount of females in my house for about 36 hours. When i ascended the stairs the girls were somewhat cautiously playing a few of the games that had been layed out. A girl with braids and bobbles sat with feet dangling off the couch across the checker board from a 24 year old intern contemplating her next move intently. Another girl for whom sitting still did not seem an interest moved quickly about the house, dipping into this game or that conversation, ever flitting from chair to couch to floor to chair. As the night wore on however, caution slowly made its way to the wind and we were soon immersed in a full-on cutthroat game of bingo. Two ostentatious 11-year-olds ran the game, alternately spinning the big ball cage and calling out numbers with enough energy to deserve a backup band. As the tension mounted (as any experienced bingo afficianado knows will happen in the later stages of the game) sometimes our callers would burst into uncontrollable giggling fits or rambunctious dialogues, complementing eachother with theatrical perfection. By the end of the night we were all huddled around the TV watching "The Little Mermaid" with bowls of ice cream and all was well with the world.
The following day would be an adventure, beginning with a full pancake-and-egg brunch that would lead into continuous game playing and activity doing, interspersed with trips out of the house. The first such excursion took us to the Berkeley skating rink were we had an idyllic time slipping about the ice with the girls in our mittens and hats, falling over ourselves to the sound of our favorite hits from the 90s and today pumping through the house stereo. In moments of exhaustion some opted to step out and sit by the fireplace that was lit in the lobby or sip low-grade cocoa from the machine down the hall. A little girl with braids and big eyes would take me gloved hand-in-hand and insist that we go fast. When the announcement came to clear the rink so that they could resurface the ice, we all draped ourselves over the rail and watched the zamboni make its rounds. Leaving the rink, we were treated to the smell of dry, crushed leaves underfoot in the considerably more pronounced Berkeley Autumn. (In Oakland, 'foliage' is an all-but-foreign concept.)
Most of the girls we hosted during the weekend were alum of the Sophia Project, all having experienced forms of abuse and often still living in environments where such things were possible. In them you could see the forces at work, the attitudes of culture and experience fighting for identity interspersed with moments of genuine etiquette and reverence. I could at once be called a loser by one of the girls directly after having been asked if she 'could please be excused from the table.' As a male my place in all of this was distinct as many of the girls have had horrible histories with men, and i would be asked either to be especially warm or maintain a respectful sense of space between individuals respectively. Throughout the weekend i was briefed on how to do this and with whom. While my relationship to the girls was slower to ignite than with my female coworkers, by the end of the weekend i felt i had made a certain if minor connection to each of them.
On Friday as we are wrapping up with daily duties, sweeping floors flecked with bits of graham cracker and play-dough, mopping pee-pee out of bathroom corners, stocking diapers and prepping cradles and changing trashes the children begin to arrive. A good part of the closing duties on this day, however, are devoted to preparing the spaces for the arrival of the young ones. This will include laying out in array a large assortment of games, books, beading kits and knitting options. Likewise the spare bedrooms are stocked with fresh bedding,bathrobes, slippers, etc. By 6 PM the children who will be staying for the weekend have usually arrived in full. The children who come for respite care will often not be the same children with whom we work during the week. Often times the children will be older, either elder siblings of the younger ones we are working with or Sophia Project alum (graduation occurring in kindergarten). This time our guests were six girls - four 11 year olds and two 7 year olds. This effectively doubled the amount of females in my house for about 36 hours. When i ascended the stairs the girls were somewhat cautiously playing a few of the games that had been layed out. A girl with braids and bobbles sat with feet dangling off the couch across the checker board from a 24 year old intern contemplating her next move intently. Another girl for whom sitting still did not seem an interest moved quickly about the house, dipping into this game or that conversation, ever flitting from chair to couch to floor to chair. As the night wore on however, caution slowly made its way to the wind and we were soon immersed in a full-on cutthroat game of bingo. Two ostentatious 11-year-olds ran the game, alternately spinning the big ball cage and calling out numbers with enough energy to deserve a backup band. As the tension mounted (as any experienced bingo afficianado knows will happen in the later stages of the game) sometimes our callers would burst into uncontrollable giggling fits or rambunctious dialogues, complementing eachother with theatrical perfection. By the end of the night we were all huddled around the TV watching "The Little Mermaid" with bowls of ice cream and all was well with the world.
The following day would be an adventure, beginning with a full pancake-and-egg brunch that would lead into continuous game playing and activity doing, interspersed with trips out of the house. The first such excursion took us to the Berkeley skating rink were we had an idyllic time slipping about the ice with the girls in our mittens and hats, falling over ourselves to the sound of our favorite hits from the 90s and today pumping through the house stereo. In moments of exhaustion some opted to step out and sit by the fireplace that was lit in the lobby or sip low-grade cocoa from the machine down the hall. A little girl with braids and big eyes would take me gloved hand-in-hand and insist that we go fast. When the announcement came to clear the rink so that they could resurface the ice, we all draped ourselves over the rail and watched the zamboni make its rounds. Leaving the rink, we were treated to the smell of dry, crushed leaves underfoot in the considerably more pronounced Berkeley Autumn. (In Oakland, 'foliage' is an all-but-foreign concept.)
Most of the girls we hosted during the weekend were alum of the Sophia Project, all having experienced forms of abuse and often still living in environments where such things were possible. In them you could see the forces at work, the attitudes of culture and experience fighting for identity interspersed with moments of genuine etiquette and reverence. I could at once be called a loser by one of the girls directly after having been asked if she 'could please be excused from the table.' As a male my place in all of this was distinct as many of the girls have had horrible histories with men, and i would be asked either to be especially warm or maintain a respectful sense of space between individuals respectively. Throughout the weekend i was briefed on how to do this and with whom. While my relationship to the girls was slower to ignite than with my female coworkers, by the end of the weekend i felt i had made a certain if minor connection to each of them.
posted by derek | 11:56 PM
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