Kidz in the Hall

Today I got to spend more time with my kids. Since the summer program ended and we hadn't spent much time doing more than paper work until now I was really excited to meet up with the kids and talk with them. This is the part of my job that I live for. I sat in the cafeteria with one girl who was cutting class and had been turned down by our program, but that clearly wanted and needed for someone to talk to. She talked to me about a fight she was going to get into, but the thing of it was that you knew she was more scared than anything. As we were talking I was sculpting with some clay we had brought down with us for art therapy purposes and in the midst of our conversation I ended up sculpting a face of sorts. When I had completed it she picked it up, picked up a piece of white clay and shaped a tear on the side of the face. And as corny as it may sound, to me it was terribly sad. It was sad because I knew that she was hurting about the impending fight, it was sad because it was apparent that she was hurting over what her boyfriend did to make her feel the need to fight, it was sad because even though she had been turned away from our program she still sought us out to talk, it was sad because she was just a goddamn kid and she was talking about getting a gun for this fight and when she talked about it the fear in her eyes was just enoromous, and while she may never go get that gun, and while it may have been all talk and probably was, the fact that she felt that was something she might have to do, the fact that she felt she had to be that tough just affected me so deeply. I kept the face we sculpted together-its beside my desk on the window sill. It makes me sad that she could not join our program, but I think that she will ultimately seek us out whenever she can, which is at least some small comfort.
Anyway I guess my point in all of that is just to say that I was glad I got to talk to her, I was glad she felt she could still come to us, and I felt good about the fact that we were giving kids like her a place to come and feel supported and cared for. She may still go through with her fight, but at least she got a space to express her fears about it, and at least she got a chance to hear someone express concern in a healthy and moderately unitrusive way. I know that lately I've been really burnt out with all the BS in my job, but moments like those are why I stick with it. Not because I can pat myself on the back after every one of them, I certainly cannot and could tell you horror stories from our summer program, but because they happen at all and even if they don't have any impact on the kids right now or any visible impact on the kids at all, at least for that brief moment they were reminded or shown that people do care and are willing to listen.

City Mouse and Country Mouse

Strange, or not so strange, as it may seem I've always been very attracted to both the city and the countryside. I walked home today by Grand Army Plaza, and it being later in the year the sun has begun setting closer and closer to the time I leave work. Anyway, today it was well on its way west by the time I was out of the building and onto the main thorough fair. As I was walking the air was cool and the sun was still reflecting a sort of orange light off the brick and glass, lighting up the fire escapes on the fronts of the buildings. The trees of the plaza were in the distance and cars and people were all around keeping the street busy. And I guess it was there that this realization of my love for the two types of places sort of struck me again. I've always been very politically and socially interested in the two places for various reasons, but I started thinking about how my reaction was more than that. I started thinking there must be some inherent aesthetic quality similar in both that draws me to these two extremes. Yet, as I sit here now, aside from the obvious-to-me pulls of each place, I think it might be more than that. Perhaps it's not the places at all, but perhaps it's the way light hits all things at sunset. Whatever it paints seems to take on this very organic quality, as if it's perfectly obvious that this thing exists and exists where it does, as if there would never be another place that this thing could exist. And if it's even possible in a place where so little is naturally occurring, the sunset has this astounding effect on brick, mortar, and steel. It makes it all feel perfect and right. It kind of reminds me of the first sunrise I saw (not a sunset I know, but bare with me). I was on a late night train running through city after city. We paused briefly in an open air station god only knows where and I remember waking up and realizing that I was witnessing the sunrise. Now while the station was open air it was still all city around it and there was broken down concrete, graffiti, trash, you name it. But the sun and whatever quality it possesses made it all seem just breathtaking and perfect. Maybe I'm overdoing it, but then again maybe I'm not. Maybe this is just one of those small things about life I learned to love and appreciate. And I'm not saying that the sunrise or sunset is going to do it for everyone; of course there are issues in the world in need of more immediate attention. I guess all I'm saying is that no matter where I go: countryside, desert, inner city, suburbs, or vacant lot, I know that I can take some comfort in the fact that at some point in the day, the external world will seem utterly natural and right, even if just for a moment, and that small moment is worth a lot to me.