Kids, Eish!

One thing I didn’t expect when I moved here was how quickly I would get attached to some of the kids. I knew I’d like them, but I didn’t realize how much concern I would feel about their futures – about what happens to them when I’m 10,000 miles away again.

I taught the teen girls’ class at Lamontville today. One of my favourite little girls is too young to be in the class but I let her and her sister come in if the topic isn’t too heavy.

She was a complete brat today. (I can say that because I love her like crazy.) She’s a really sweet kid, but lately she’s going through something. I can’t quite put my finger on it. When I describe it it sounds like typical kid stuff, but when I see it it feels like more. I’m not sure if it’s just with me – I probably have the most interaction with her so I’ve considered that she’s testing my staying power.

When we pulled up today, she was in the process of doing something really mean to another girl, and because I called her on it she withdrew her affection for the whole afternoon. She wouldn’t come close to me when I wanted to talk to her about it. I jokingly asked if she thought I was going to hurt her and she said yes – I’m pretty sure she wasn’t seriously concerned, but you never know. She’s done this a lot lately – used her affection and compliance as a reward or punishment. Everything I tell her to do she does just enough to be technically following my instructions, but not actually following the spirit of what I intend. Okay, that part’s pretty typical of kids, I guess. Maybe it’s just the beginning of adolescence, but it feels like more.

I deal with really challenging behavior from kids all the time in my job – not just 9-5, but in their homes dealing with real issues. I think I’m generally pretty good at it. My instinct and training would say not to reinforce her behavior by giving her attention, but behavior analysis also takes into account what is maintaining the negative behavior. In this case I don’t think it’s attention. She’s not the kind of kid that needs all eyes on her. I’m not sure what it is. But taking away attention doesn’t feel right, when what she seems to need is to know I’ll still be there even when she’s a brat. Which is all the time lately.

She’s very joking and playful but I’ve realized she’s really quite sensitive. Things I’ve said when we’re playing she’ll bring up later when we’re not playing. For instance, after the mean thing she did to the other girl, I said I want to bring her to Westville again to sleep over but I have to know she’ll listen to me and do what I say. She replied, “You said you’d never take me to Westville.” I said that jokingly, which she knew at the time. But she probably talked herself into thinking I was serious. “Was I joking when I said that?” I asked. “No,” she said, with exaggerated solemnity. Last week I forgot to take home the picture she made for me to welcome me back. I felt horrible. I knew to her it would mean more than me just being scatterbrained, and – sure enough – when I mentioned it, she has “no idea where it went.”

Today the girls’ class was about trust. I usually let them pick the topic, and when they do it’s always something relating to their friends – gossip, trust, boys. We tend to rotate through the same topics and I try to just let them talk and say what they need to, and then steer them toward the relevant biblical points. Today it got way off track, so I tried to refocus us by asking questions.

“How do you know you can trust someone?” I asked. The answers were pretty good, and then she popped out with, “You can’t trust anyone.” Wow. Awfully cynical for a kid not even in her teens. A few minutes later I asked if it’s ever safe to trust someone again if they’ve let you down (planning to go into forgiveness and all that). One of the older girls said, “Yes, because people can change.” My little friend immediately followed with, “No, people don’t change.” Yikes. I asked if there was a specific person she was thinking about and she said yes, but I didn’t ask her to elaborate. She seems to be hurting in some way and I don’t know how or why or what to do. I don’t know if it’s just typical kid stuff or something serious. All of these kids are in a rough spot. None of them have fathers (unfortunately for her, her sister is one of the few kids who does have a father she occasionally sees, which has got to take a toll) and they live in conditions and have obstacles none of us can dream of understanding.

I’ve also wondered what it does to the kids when volunteers leave. It can’t be good for them. I think it’s better than not having volunteers come at all, but I would imagine they still feel abandoned. I remember how readily those two little girls accepted me leaving last time, even though we had gotten really close. There weren’t any of the typical, “Why can’t you stay?” kind of questions. Of course it’s entirely possible they were counting the minutes till I left, but I don’t think so. It’s just part of their life – the constant come and go. It’s also part of their culture. People in the townships die young, and they seem to handle death with a sort of acceptance that is foreign to most of us. It’s sad that they have to get used to things like that happening with such frequency. It makes me long for the Kingdom for their benefit as much as mine.

I need to come up with a strategy for my little friend. So far it’s just been to be there when she finally does approach me for a hug (and not to do fake-out pretend hugs like we occasionally used to) and to smile at her whenever possible, even if it’s through gritted teeth. : )