Ralph

            Today, I met Ralph. Ralph is the second homeless person I’ve held a sustained conversation with. He was very quick to converse after I gave him a dollar and asked his name. After talking with him for a while, however, I got the impression that he would have loved to chitchat regardless of whether I gave him any money or not. Our very jolly interaction lasted about 15 or 20 minutes. Ralph is 52 years old. He’s been living in DC since 2006. Sleeps in a park down the street. He has a mind-boggling 18 siblings. His closest relatives live in Delaware—three older sisters. His father is in his 90s, still chugging along in Puerto Rico. Had I not gotten this foreign connection, I would have assumed that Ralph was African American. Now I’m not quite sure, though he is pretty dark skinned.

            If Ralph had it his way, he would be in New York City. He grew up there—or at least lived there from 13 on. I asked him what was holding him back from returning. “It’s too much trouble”, he added without any more elaboration. I assume that this means its less safe. One significant quote I remember from the conversation was “DC is an okay city, it’s just not okay for me”. I asked him to explain. Apparently, people here are too “snotty”. I asked him to clarify. “Snotty”, to Ralph, means unfriendly—unwilling to say hello or smile at strangers. I suspected he was referring specifically to this area. I was, however, wrong. He likes Foggy Bottom a whole lot. Apparently, it’s prime real estate for begging. Namely, right out side of the Whole Foods. People are very generous. At one point, he tried to start a conversation with a passerby by reading the words on the passerby’s shirt loudly and he got his attention. Before even asking for money, the man apologized to Ralph for only carrying a credit card. Ralph consoled by saying that his conservation was “better than money”.

            He spoke as if he genuinely makes enough money to get by in this area. Additionally, Ralph likes this area because there are a lot of pretty girls. During the course of our relatively short conversation, he, to my delight, loudly complimented probably 10 girls—most of them African American. He let me in on a little secret, pointing to the apartment building that he sees the most pretty girl traffic coming in and out of. He did not speak of his romantic life, but he seemed to be content with just looking and complimenting.

            Some of the most resonant parts of our conversation were when Ralph referred to his beliefs about karma. If anyone asks Ralph for a few bucks, he gives it to them, no questions asked. This policy has worked for him. They always pay him back in one way or another. His grandmother taught him to treat people this way. He has formed relationships with people this way—some of them being Whole Foods cashiers. He referred to one of his friends as his “veggie guy”, though I’m unsure if he is a Whole Foods employee. Not an intuitive description to me, he continued by saying that this friend very frequently buys him sandwiches with “guacamole, lettuce, tomatoes, jalapeños, and cheese”. This friend distinctly never buys him any sandwiches with meat. He said being so close to health foods store allows him to rarely eat meat.

            Towards the end of our conversation, a physically handicapped man stumbled by Whole Foods. Ralph immediately recognized him, but did not interact with him. He told me that the man walks by every single day. It pleased me to see how familiar he was with the people of the area. He told me the story of how he once stopped the handicapped man from being mugged.

            Ralph is a good man. 

Week 3

            I very rarely converse with my fellow intern, Sister R, about our Life Pieces experience. Perhaps this has been a mistake. It’s not as if I hate speaking with her, I just often find it a hassle at the end of long days and prefer to isolate myself in either my headphones or a book. I haven’t gotten a good feel for whether this is what she would prefer to do as well. She’s always a pleasant and happy person to talk to. Anyway, since our conversations rarely extended beyond sentence or two-long daily assessments of much optimism and vagueness, I was under the impression that she did not think as critically about Life Pieces as an organization. When she would mention that she felt that Life Pieces was the “perfect fit”, I would be often become internally frustrated that she was continuously overlooking all of the things I found suspect.

            Today, in contrast to the judgments I had made, I listened from the backseat of the car as she discussed a few pretty grave topics with our program’s director. We then continued some of this conversation in private on the metro ride home. Our supervisor expressed distress at a fundamental change that Life Pieces has undergone since our numbers have expanded from an average of 15 to an average of 60. She worries that we’ve lost sight of the originally larger emphasis on meditation, peace, and mindfulness. She spoke of the commiseration and intimacy that this emphasis brought; that it allowed very heartbreaking experiences to be drawn out and shared. Apparently, the organization as a whole was a place of more understanding, affection, and patience. This fundamental also manifests itself in the staff’s presence. More specifically, she complained of the tone in which one of our aging staff members uses when rebuking the children. She attributed this tone to a trend that she (as well as I) have noticed amongst older teachers. When aging teachers have been intensely working in the field for more than a handful of years, they often begin to lose the patience they once had. This doesn’t mean that their intentions have changed, but what once sounded like calm and constructive disciplinary suggestions can now sound like angry, domineering, and out of control commanding. One very important piece of this is that of “control”. One must ensure that they are constantly presenting an outward image of collected, even if this is a façade. A teacher’s frustrations cannot run rampant. How does one approach this kind of problem though? Is it worth trying to actually correct? Or firing? Or just waiting out until a teacher like this will retire in the name of respect? This could be at the expense of the organization!

             Another theme that Sister R and me discussed on our own was that of hypermasculinity. I’ve always been a little bit skeptical of the fact that Life Pieces is an organization that solely serves males. Their justification is that the African American community in particular is bereft of strong male role models. A lot of the boys in our program have been raised in single-mother or single-female-relative households. Additionally, Life Pieces worries about the persistent stereotypes around African American men—namely that they are known for being irresponsible “hoodlums”. They are trying to combat this stereotype by raising up a generation that proves it wrong. This obviously sounds well-intentioned, but I’m sometimes a little concerned that if we’re spending so much energy trying to combat this stereotype, are we not giving it a little truth? Are we not saying that men are inherently more lazy or distractible or unintelligent or irresponsible by giving them more attention than women?

            Whenever I ask these kinds of leading questions, I’m by no means sure that I’m in the “right”, but I do wonder the implications of decisions about gender. But, for all I know, there could already be mentoring programs established for women in the area and this could be filling a gap. I’m just curious about the exclusivity.

            Because our program is focused around boys, there is often a lot of talk and emphasis on filling our roles a “man” or “gentleman”. More specifically, LPTM men are supposed to be “gentleman, scholars, artists, and athletes”. Most of the time, I get the impression that we are trying to communicate that the traits worth most cultivating are responsibility, respect, expression, thinking, fitness, etc. (all things in which I see a lot of value). The potential problem, however, with this kind of emphasis on “manhood” is that it might simultaneously communicate a dangerous emphasis on toughness and anti-femininity. I’m scared that “manhood” could be seen as the antithesis of femininity and delicacy. This seems rarely communicated in LPTM’s curriculum, but more often communicated through the behavior of the mentors and employees—especially in rebuking methods. When we command children, especially with negatives and raised voices, we are affirming that this is the right way to deal with problems as opposed to approaching disagreements and scuffles with conversation.

            I also think this type of “manhood” might manifest itself in the fact that the mentors are less hands-on with the children than I am. More specifically, Sister R brought up a few situations in which she was offering intimate, physical comfort to the younger children in either times of physical or emotional pain. Although our executive director’s disposition and philosophy would lead her to compliment this moment, one male employee (of considerable authority) told Sister R to stop “babying” and that the boy could manage on his own. This seems somewhat contradictory to the LPTM mission’s emphasis on how important and acceptable authentic “expression” is. I think this shows a weakness in the program because not everyone has the same distinct interpretation of what should be instilled in the children. I hear very often that consistency is necessary for developing children. My executive director very regularly asks for feedback so this might be something worth bringing up to her.

Week 2

            On Friday, I was thanked profusely, almost desperately, for my efforts in the classroom. The thing in particular that my praiser noted is, to my delight, what I’ve been trying to work on—the hands-on approach to the children. As much as I sort of conceptualized for you in the last post my methodology, this type of treatment really just seems intuitive to me. Sister M (the one offering this compliment) told me that she rarely, if ever, sees the mentors actually playing or even merely conversing casually with the children beyond the rigid events of their daily schedule. As soon as the mentors are done instructing, dictating, or rebuking, they become more reserved towards the children, preferring to chitchat amongst themselves. I suppose this makes sense considering the children usually provide each other entertainment (they are by no means just sitting around), but how does one justify being there on a daily basis if they’re not continuously interactive with the children? The emotional, supportive foundation of this program seems heavily dependent on instilling value by way of attention and relationship building.

            Admittedly, I’ve been doing my job a considerably less amount of time than any of the mentors. Some jading is bound to sneak in. Also, their opportunities for interaction are seemingly infinite. If they come in with a spirit less than bounding, they always have the next day, week, or year to finish the job. The brevity of our program makes our work more urgent. Our window is much smaller. This is interesting, however, because it is not an entirely realistic work model. Knowing that our efforts for whatever particular organization we are interning with are technically temporary, we can justifiably exhaust ourselves. We may never work with the same demographic, region, or issue ever again. This position is perhaps dangerous because it might allow us a false sense of superiority. This is something to be mindful of.

            On a completely tangential note, I’ve found the simple notion of communication to be frustrating recently. For instance, part of the curriculum preparation includes crafting and filling “mystery boxes” full of items relating to the stories we'll be teaching on. I’ve been responsible for sifting through stories, picking out important objects that could manifest themselves as items in the “mystery box”. I was under the impression that we were trying to be economical with the items so for a number of them, I opted to make colorful, construction paper replicas as opposed to purchasing everything from the store. I’m by no means the best artist, but I was relatively proud of the work I’d spent a few hours on. I did not, however, explicitly consult my supervisor about the specifics of this project. This sort of statement might give the impression that I’m ominously foreshadowing an altercation, but I’m not. I was only given a mild complaint that perhaps the objects should be more tangible. This makes a lot sense in retrospect (especially when I’m mindful of how distractible these children are—they probably could not care less about my excuses for cutouts)—I just wish I had been given more direction and rigidity in terms of their expectations. This doesn’t mean we will scrap everything I’ve been working on—it just sets me back a few hours and makes me feel a little less useful. Oh well.

            In general, I find communication about these open-ended kinds of projects to be a bizarre fear of mine. In hopes that I won’t have to change the way I think is right to approach a project (to make my work seemingly irreversible), I often times consciously/subconsciously (I’m still deciding) allow myself to become too far invested in a project and only ask for approval after I’ve made considerable progress. This is weird and also something I should consider being mindful of.

            Anyway, as much as I complain and philosophize, the time I spend with the children is a whole lot of fun. If I’m not making them any more insightful or responsible, I hope I’m at least making their lives a little happier.  

1st Post!

            I’ve found the best way to approach the hands on work I’m doing with the children is to act as if I am one of them. This sounds like a cliché, but I’m really trying to embody it. You see, each class has a mentor or teacher—ideally, a young adult African American male that has grown up in the program. For that reason, they are very familiar with the sort of personal development ideals that the program asks the boys to strive for. Being in positions of authority, however, it is difficult to not be somewhat domineering. It’s not as if the boys respond horribly to this type of treatment or anything, it just often rubs me the wrong way. When I was plopped into the “Kings” classroom (ages 7-9), I was given very little (if any) instruction as to how to behave myself. For this reason, I felt challenged (or perhaps inspired) to make the role my own. Whenever Brother O and Brother D request that the boys sit down on the carpet in preparation for sharing a bit about their day, I do the same. Whenever they make clear that it is time to clean up after playing, I start cleaning up with them. Whenever the boys must walk the halls silently and single-filed, I secretly sneak a poke at my neighbor’s pudgy waist—eliciting as many smiles as possible. Don’t get me wrong—it’s not as if I’m attempting to mock their authority—I recognize the necessity of having someone in charge of calling the shots. The reality is, however, that there are already two authority figures! I’ve chosen to just act like one of their buddies. It does put me in a weird position though. No matter how much I goof off, I’m certainly not going to be rebuked by the mentors. I have their respect. In the one instance in which my mentor got onto one of the boys for talking (when inspired by me), I quickly took the blame and the mentor smiled and shook his head.

            I think my methodology of befriending has served me well. One of the boys in particularly certainly gets more antsy and excited when I’m spotted as opposed to the mentors. I’m hoping that the position of friendship will allow me to better embody the type of rebuke that was recommended by Sister T during our first day’s orientation—to suggest alternative behaviors when necessary as opposed to demanding them. This is in the interest of making good behavior seem like plausible possibility as opposed to antithesis—as in, maybe I’ll come off as just a good friend giving them casual advice.

            Will this type of relationship serve me well in the long run? Since it’s the end of the school year, the children rarely have any homework and so I’ve not really had to function much as a formal educator. During the small glimpses for 10 minutes here or 20 minutes there that I’ve had of actual “tutoring”, I’ve found the kids to be pretty difficult to work with. Don’t get me wrong—not significantly more difficult than other student’s I’ve tutored, but perhaps a little bit more. They’ve struggled. This is frustrating and exciting. I’ve got work to do over this summer! I will also have to be exceptionally patient!

            Most importantly, I wonder if the friendly relationship I’ve established with the boys makes me harder to take seriously when it’s time to do the “real” work. Is it more confusing and problematic than strategic that I’m acting like I’m just “one of the boys”? Is it hard for them to code switch into academic mode when they just saw me ridiculously impersonating an alien made of K’nex that I’ve provocatively named “One-Eyed Charlie”? Time will tell.