Author Archives: Paola

Harry Potter and the Distressed 4th Grader

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After such a wonderful collection of visits, I anticipated my last visit to BJM to be a lot like my previous ones. However, to my surprise, this last time was very different…and very important.

I walked in a little late, due to transportation troubles, and found myself being greeted, not by the Director as usual, but by a crying little girl who I had met the previous week. I quickly made my way over to the corner she had sat in, sitting close enough to show concern, but far enough to give her space. I had only met her once and had never dealt with her in this type of situation, so it was important that I kept my distance and was cautious in my approach as not to frighten or exasperate her more. She was sobbing uncontrollably, clutching her Harry Potter book tightly to her chest, her small hands shaking slightly, and her cheeks bright red. I softly asked her what was wrong and seemingly at ease with my presence, she turned her face to look at me and through heavy breaths and some blubbering, she recounted her misfortune with only a few tumble of words. It seems that she had found herself cornered in a gym game and had gotten out, something that she had thought was unfair because of a miscommunication of rules. However, it seemed that most of her frustration lied in the fact that she had felt ignored when she had tried explaining herself to the other kids and to the adults.

I realized then that what would comfort her most was that someone would simply listen to her and let her express herself. All I did was listen to her, telling her to steady her breaths and that she would be alright. Since I didn’t actually know what had happened, I couldn’t tell her that she was in the right or explain that she might be in the wrong, so I resorted to telling her that I was truly sorry that she had felt picked on and ignored, encouraging her to speak with the teachers and the other kids when she had calmed down. This seem to partially do the trick. So I tried to distract her just a bit, asking her to tell me a bit about the current Harry Potter book and chapter she was on (we had bonded over the series the week before). That certainly did the trick as she forgot all about her troubles, her tears quickly drying on her cheeks and a smile returning to her sweet face. Much more comfortable with me, she scooted closer and told me all about her favorite characters and scenes, soon asking me to read a chapter with her. We happily read together, imitating voices and laughing at certain moments, all the way up until the moment her mom arrived and took her home.

Ms. Stacy later approached me after to ask about the situation as she had walked by and saw the little girl crying, but had apparently decided to not get involved, even when one of the teachers came up to make sure she was okay, because she had thought that I had the situation quite under control. I was extremely flattered by this…it means a lot when someone who works with children so much thinks that you’re handling a difficult situation well enough to not intervene. I told her what had happened and why I comforted her the way I did, expressing that I had dealt with similar situations before and knew that this was often the only thing that worked. She gave me the biggest smile and assured me that I had done an excellent job and that she was very grateful for my help. Once again, BJM showed me how much I love working with kids and just how important it is to listen to them and share interest in their likes and hobbies.

Thank You’s and Paper Snowflakes

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By my third week at BJM, I realized how grateful I was for my visits. I’ve enjoyed every afternoon and have returned to campus refreshed and heartened. I know that our volunteering means a lot to the kids, by the looks on their faces when we arrive, but I can honestly say that it might just mean a little more to me. After a stressful week of classes and studying, it’s always nice to step out and do something else. Being surrounded by the positive and eager energy at BJM only makes my hour away all the more special. And the kids, oh the kids, they never fail to surprise me or bring a smile to my face. They are all so intelligent and talented in their own ways.

This third visit was particularly memorable as I spent the hour drawing and cutting paper in Crafts, surrounded by talkative girls and energetic boys. I had sat down to draw with the girls, but found myself without any markers. I then opted for creating paper snowflakes since it was so close to Christmas. I couldn’t contain my amusement when every single girl at the table slyly followed suit, looking as if they didn’t want me to know that they were also making snowflakes. However, the quiet and shyness only lasted for a moment before they began comparing snowflakes and giving each other tips. All of the sudden, the little girl sitting next to me, who had been closely watching me cut, shook her head and told me I was doing it wrong. I tilted my head and asked for her suggestions. “Here,” she said, taking my snowflake, refolding it and cutting the corners. “There,” she grinned proudly, handing it back to me, “You were doing it all wrong, you know. It wouldn’t have made a very sturdy snowflake.” What a clever girl.

They all loved their snowflakes, smiling widely and thanking me on their way out. Really, I should be thanking them. Not only for helping me make a proper snowflake, but for bringing so much joy into my weeks.

Piece by Piece

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This week at BJM, I was able to spend the hour with the little girl I had read with two weeks ago and another little boy with shaggy dark hair and a toothy grin. She immediately sat down and decided she wanted to complete the 100 piece Ocean puzzle, spreading the little pieces all over her side of the table as the boy tentatively sat on the other side to work on his own puzzle. I smiled and asked if she remembered me. She assured me that she did, but she couldn’t remember my name. When I reminded her, she seemed to enjoy the act of repeating it back to me a few times before asking me if I could help her. I sat down next to her and we began organizing the pieces of the puzzle, grouping them by color and separating the corner ones. As we worked and she chatted on about puzzles, books, halloween, and her “advanced” vacation, the little boy appeared to slowly be sliding down the table closer to us, abandoning his own puzzle to look over at ours. When she noticed his presence, she introduced him to me. I told him that I liked his name and that it was very nice to meet him. He nodded shyly and I returned to the puzzle. She leaned over to me and whispered, “No, you have to introduce yourself.” I laughed softly and told her she was right, turning to him and telling him my name. He couldn’t quite pronounce it so she began repeating as she had done before, this time more slowly so he could follow suit. We all laughed and he began helping us with the puzzle, putting little parts together on his own and handing us pieces when we couldn’t find the right one. At this point, they were both very animated and talkative, clearly comfortable with my presence and with our activity. It was really nice to sit and work on the puzzle with the both of them, slowly seeing how it came together, how they worked together. They were both very intelligent and sweet. I was happy to have been able to spend more time with her and just as happy to have gotten to know the little boy, who seemed to have taken a similar liking to me as she had. Piece by piece, the beautiful puzzle was finished, and bit by bit, I’m getting to devote precious time to these special kids.

 

One for the Books

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My second visit at BJM was as delightful as my first. Though this time, it was very different, as I spent most of the time reading with a lively and intuitive little girl who wore cat ears on top of her red hair. Well, actually it was a headband with cat ears on it and I was very silly for asking her such a question, at least that’s what she told me. As an English major, it’s almost a given that I love to read. And despite my affinity for classic literature, I have always found the category of children’s books as a favorite. Anyhow, I was very excited to sit down and read with her, so when she patted the seat next to her and gave me a big, toothy smile, my heart melted and I knew that my afternoon was going to be one for the books. She introduced herself, rather politely, and then informed me that the book that she was reading was about fables surrounding a mischievous rabbit. I responded enthusiastically, letting her know that I adored stories with rabbits, The Velveteen Rabbit, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, and the Tales of Bre’er Rabbit being a few childhood favorites. “Oh, I love rabbits too! They’re very smart! Will you read this with me?” she smiled pleadingly.

We planned to read a page each, but then decided that it would better help the flow of the book if we read whole chapters individually, alternating turns. She was an excellent reader, minding punctuation and using different voices for characters. She would stop occasionally to give me small clarifications, one which included that she read a little funny because she had just lost her two middle bottom teeth, showing them to me proudly. When it was my turn to read, she huddled a little closer and leaned towards the pages. She seemed to really like my reading as she would giggle uncontrollably at certain moments and stopped me several times to ask if we could read together again. But she was also quite frank and attentive, correcting me if I used the wrong punctuation or missed a character’s specific exclamation. She was exceptionally bright and animated. I truly believe that our faces were both beaming as we read to each other. When her step father came to pick her up early, he lingered politely nearby, waiting for us to conclude our fun. She continued to read with ease, occasionally pausing and assuring him that we would be done soon. He would only smile and nod, clearly knowing that we would be reading a while longer. We had just finished reading about how rabbit had accidentally tricked fox, wolf, and bear into chasing him, which made us both laugh heartily, and were discussing how the book’s illustration of the end would have been better with a different scene when it was officially time for her to go.

When she had returned from putting the book away, she looked up at me, and like a little adult, grinned and said, “We’ll finish it next time, alright? Goodbye!” I really cannot wait until next time. She reminded me of two things that are not only generally very important, but are very dear to my heart and to my future aspirations: the grand level of significance that books have in the lives of children and just how crucial it is to sit with a child and read to them as well as have them read to you.

What’s in a Name?

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I had really been looking forward to volunteering at BJM Elementary from the moment I found out about the opportunity. Unfortunately, my serious lack of  luck with commuting put a serious damper on my mood. On the first Thursday of my service, I arrived at BJM shamefully late, extremely irritated, utterly cold, and overall upset. Thankfully, as worthwhile things usually have a way of turning up, the minute I met Ms. Stacy, the Assistant Director, my sour mood completely vanished. Her smile lit up the room and her kindness and understanding made me remember why I had applied to help in the first place. The school’s environment was warm and welcoming. The kids radiated with cheerfulness and energy. “What’s your name?” she asked.

My heart filled with excitement.

Ms. Stacy started off by showing me around and informing me on the afternoon system. She finished the orientation by bringing me to the Craft room where I was introduced to two of the sweetest ladies I have ever met. They were so hospitable, urging me to sit down and color with the kids while they brought me some refreshments, apple cider and donut holes. My smile felt permanent. They were so kindhearted and friendly, asking me about my background and schooling, as well as sharing about themselves and their homes. “What’s your name?” they asked.

My heart filled with warmth.

For the rest of the afternoon, I sat in between a third grade girl who had been to Spain and loved to draw dragons and a first grade boy who played lacrosse and loved to play guessing games. I met two other little girls, one who’s sister went to Cornell and the other who’s dad was from Ethiopia. I met a few boys who liked to make pretend food out of play-do and bring them to the girls. They were a shy, but lively bunch of kids. It took them some time to adjust to my presence, but soon enough, they were telling me stories, bringing me toys, and drawing me pictures. “What’s your name?” they giggled.

My heart filled with joy.

“It’s Paola. What’s yours?”

 

An Apple a Day Keeps the Doctor Away

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Yesterday, I enjoyed a nice excursion to my very first Apple Fest. Not only was it a much needed study break, but it was also a good way for me to get some fresh air and stretch my limbs for a bit as I had spent the day in my dorm, cocooned in a blanket, surrounded by wadded up tissues, and my nose buried in books. I had been developing a horrendous cold throughout the week and hadn’t managed to take a break from academics to rest and relax. The walk to Apple Fest was oddly enough, both energizing and calming, and the crisp air was refreshment for my lungs. The day only seemed to get better as my friends, whose company I had missed dearly, steered me in the direction of an apple cider stand. I wasn’t necessarily in the mood for anything, but their insistence that I try the fresh, Ithaca made, apple cider, convinced me into buying a nice, hot cup. It was warm, sweet, a little tangy, and absolutely delicious. When I say that it did wonders to my congestion and the ache in my chest, I’m not exaggerating. It was truly invigorating. Surrounded by laughter and smiling faces, warm sun and cold air, the distinct smell of apples and cinnamon, and the underlying sense that Fall was near, I suddenly felt much more at peace and relaxed, not at all stressed about the work that waited for me back in my dorm or frustrated with having a stuffy nose and an irritating cough. My first Apple Fest was laid back and rather short, as I desperately needed some sleep, but it was rejuvenating, special, and the perfect medicine.

Making Connections

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This Wednesday, I had the pleasure of attending another Rose Cafe, where Christa Downey, from the Engineering Career Advising Office, was speaking about networking and building a support crew for academic and career success. I found the conversation fascinating as I had never put much thought in to how much networking could affect my future academic, career, and life prospects. The thing that impacted me most was when we discussed the importance of making connections with different administrative figures and staff during our academic years, such as Deans, Assistant Deans, Professors, Teaching Assistants, Officers in Clubs and Organizations, and even our own peers. These are the people that could point us in the direction of great academic or career opportunities (a Graduate program or an internship) or could even write recommendation letters that we might need in the future. In addition to this, we have created a support group of various, talented and wise, individuals who will be there for us if we ever need a helping hand, some advice, or maybe even a word of encouragement or redirection.

Ms. Downey also assured us that no matter how awkward or uncomfortable reaching out might feel like, the end result is worth it. Whether you come away from the experience with a connection or not, you will have learned something useful for future networking. I learned a lot about making connections and setting goals, even a bit about being courageous in facing our fears and in accepting change. I’m happy to report that I am setting goals for myself and making plans to reach out and make connections. I encourage others to do the same as it will be highly beneficial for your future and really only takes up a small amount of time in comparison to how much good it will do your academic and social career.

The Right to Protest

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Last Wednesday, I had the wonderful opportunity of attending a conversation at the Rose Cafe led by Judge Scott Miller. Though the talk was originally centered around what it was like for him as a defense attorney to defend people who he knew were guilty, the conversation of that evening took various twists and turns, ranging from contemplating morality’s role in justice to evaluating good and evil to discussing freedom of the press and the power of protesting. While the range of the conversation was enlightening in many different ways, the third, in particular, resonated with me throughout the rest of the night.

I kept pondering over questions like: Just how much power does protesting really hold? And what type of protesting is the most effective, yet ethical? Do we protest just about anything that we dislike or disagree with or do our reasons need to hold some sort of depth and correspondence to the greater good? Above all, however, the one thought that I really couldn’t shake was what Judge Miller had said about being so privileged to be the youth in a time where the press makes sure the American public is aware of many, many issues within our own country, creating great opportunities to to stand up and make a difference. At first, his statement didn’t make much sense to me as protests led by the up and coming generation has always been a recurrence in the United States. But then, I realized that this current generation really was privileged in way that no other had been before. There is a huge platform that we have to make our voices known, a platform that we made for ourselves through the use of technology. We can find like minded individuals and protest or prepare protest events all online. It’s quick and efficient and so much has already been affected by it.

In retrospect, we tend to focus so much on what is wrong with this country and how much we have to fix that we forget to acknowledge and be grateful for the fact that we have access to information about almost anything that happens in this country because of the power of the press and that we are allowed, as well as encouraged by many, to be leaders of our generation and use our voices to initiate change and make differences in the world around us. Having a voice and protesting seems like an innate human right, and perhaps it should be, but in reality, not everyone has the privilege to experience either. It truly puts into perspective just how much we take advantage of our freedom of expression and the power of our voices. We shouldn’t let such privilege go to waste, even if we think we’re not doing much. Our actions always affect something.