"...and so we want every sixth grader to volunteer in at least two different focus areas this year," our IB Coordinator was addressing a group of students in our school lobby who were about to attend a service fair and meet representatives of several local organizations to find out how they might get involved.
"Oh, fuck no!" said the girl to my right under her breath.
I tilted my head and furrowed my brow in disbelief. We made eye contact; she frowned. "Did you just cuss?" I asked her.
She shrugged angrily.
"Let's step into the office," I suggested firmly.
I gestured to the row of seats lining the wall in waiting-room formation. She plopped down defensively. "My sister said this school was going to try to make me do something like this!" she started angrily. "And she told me that I don't need to do nothing but focus on my grades!"
"What do your parents say?" I asked.
"What parents?" she answered.
I realized I was looming over her and sat down in the next seat. "How old is your sister?" I asked.
"The one that said that? 23," she told me.
"Who else lives in your house with you?" I asked.
"My grandfather," she said, "but he's in our country, and my other 2 sisters."
"How old are they?" I asked.
"32 and 29. My oldest sister has two kids," she explained.
"Well," I said, "the service requirement here is because we think it's important for everyone to think about how they can help."
"Our family already gives away clothes to our church," she told me.
"Why do you do that?" I asked.
She frowned again. "Because there are people who need them!" she answered in exasperation.
"That's right," I said, "and you want to help. That counts for part of your service here."
"How can giving away some old clothes change the world?" she challenged me.
"It makes a difference when people see a need and try to do something about it," I said, "that's exactly how the world changes. The people who are here for the fair know that. All we want you guys to do is to see if there is anything you are interested in helping with. You don't have to do anything, but there are some cool groups here. Don't you want to check them out?"
She nodded. I could see she was interested. "There's no cussing, though," I told her.
"Fine," she shrugged and stood up.
"Oh, fuck no!" said the girl to my right under her breath.
I tilted my head and furrowed my brow in disbelief. We made eye contact; she frowned. "Did you just cuss?" I asked her.
She shrugged angrily.
"Let's step into the office," I suggested firmly.
I gestured to the row of seats lining the wall in waiting-room formation. She plopped down defensively. "My sister said this school was going to try to make me do something like this!" she started angrily. "And she told me that I don't need to do nothing but focus on my grades!"
"What do your parents say?" I asked.
"What parents?" she answered.
I realized I was looming over her and sat down in the next seat. "How old is your sister?" I asked.
"The one that said that? 23," she told me.
"Who else lives in your house with you?" I asked.
"My grandfather," she said, "but he's in our country, and my other 2 sisters."
"How old are they?" I asked.
"32 and 29. My oldest sister has two kids," she explained.
"Well," I said, "the service requirement here is because we think it's important for everyone to think about how they can help."
"Our family already gives away clothes to our church," she told me.
"Why do you do that?" I asked.
She frowned again. "Because there are people who need them!" she answered in exasperation.
"That's right," I said, "and you want to help. That counts for part of your service here."
"How can giving away some old clothes change the world?" she challenged me.
"It makes a difference when people see a need and try to do something about it," I said, "that's exactly how the world changes. The people who are here for the fair know that. All we want you guys to do is to see if there is anything you are interested in helping with. You don't have to do anything, but there are some cool groups here. Don't you want to check them out?"
She nodded. I could see she was interested. "There's no cussing, though," I told her.
"Fine," she shrugged and stood up.
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