"Children. The final frontier. These are the voyages of an after school program . . ."
As a casual Trekkie, I've often compared my tenure as the director of an after school program to that of a starship captain. While this isn't the twenty-fourth century, and while Orange County certainly isn't outer space (though an argument can be made), the similarities are striking when considering cosmic exploration as an allegory for working with youth. The most engaging parallel is an appreciation for the unknown; just as Captains Kirk's or Picard's crews encountered various undiscovered alien races or spatial anomalies during their respective missions, so too does an after school program encounter different families, each with their own unique subculture and language, or environmental variables, like Southern California's recent earthquake. God knows my staff has heard me utter "red alert" when I've had to confront meandering strangers loitering around our program; the potential for danger is often that palpable, as is the need for diplomacy. In these instances, if "the children" really are our future, the sanctity of the future is literally at stake! The final frontier, indeed. Of course, as a geek, I tend to take such analogies way too far. Unlike other after school programs, my organization places an emphasis on the facility as a proverbial second home for the community’s most needy youth, so, if I’m my program’s captain, this facility must be the ship itself! Here’s where I go way too far, likening the facility’s core program areas to the essential departments on a starship like the U.S.S. Enterprise: first, of course, is our Gamesroom, which is our members’ and guests’ first impression of the program, and where first contact, and most of the action, takes place . . . just like a starship bridge. Our front counter, where parents are greeted and children are supervised, must always be manned like the bridge, lest the stability and direction of our daily activities face compromise. Further, if my program is short-staffed on any given day, activities from other program areas can be “rerouted” to the spacious Gamesroom to consolidate the kids and assure that all functions proceed as usual. Oh, yes. And I’m just getting started. While one may be tempted to liken our Computer Lab to the Engineering room, I’m more inclined to assign that symbolism to the Learning Center, where a majority of our more academic activities take place. Like Scotty or Georgi La Forge in Engineering, children in the Learning Center generally develop and practice problem solving skills while (gasp) learning about the ways the universe works. The Computer Lab is more akin to the holodeck (sorry, Original Series fans), where children can be virtually transported to anywhere in the world via the Internet -- looking up facts for homework assignments about Egypt or conversing with fellow kids in Kansas via our highly monitored chat channels. Technology brings the world to children that otherwise might never leave their square mile of their neighborhood . . . as a holodeck does for a confined starship crew. Finally, I’ve saved the biggest stretch for the Arts & Crafts Room, which I liken to Sick Bay. Giving children the opportunity to express themselves is the most cathartic activity an after school program can facilitate. It ails the raging bully and his meek victim alike. Though the day my arts staff says, “Damn it, I’m an Arts & Crafts Coordinator, not a doctor,” is the day I’ll happily resign. My work will be done. But, really, I digress. My inspiration for fully exploring this analogy, and for posting in this blog after a year’s time, is my latest commission -- an after school program site that has been proverbially battle-damaged and left for scrap. Oh, the site is still a part of our fleet, but it’s quadrant in our community is a bit less hospitable than I’m used to. That’s why I asked for the assignment. I had happily piloted my previous program for six years, and I’m very proud of my tenure; in fact, for the first time in my life, I’m actually very happy to see something end, knowing that I gave it my all and that my efforts are evident and appreciated. Yes, my the position opened, I seriously considered and practically jumped on the opportunity, not so much to save any sinking ships, but to test my mettle as a leader in the first place. It’s easy to ride the wind when your sail finds the breeze, but it’s much more rewarding to have to row yourself for awhile, too, and get there by your own power. Not to confuse sailboats with starships . . . But the comparison stands. This program I’ve adopted has had seven directors in as many years, which is devastating to any group of children, let alone the kids from this wayward side of the tracks. The inconsistent discipline has resulted in a highly damaged facility, including broken wall slats, electrical outlets, furniture, and ceiling tiles. I’m telling you, if it were a starship, its bridge would be the dark, sparking mess the Enterprise crew often found aboard a war-ravaged vessel. (I’m thinking the Enterprise-C from “Yesterday’s Enterprise.” What??) Oh, this site isn’t without its casualties, either, as only two of the program’s original six staff have survived the transition, which does put me in the fortunate position of recruiting my own crew. Considering this bold new direction I plan to undergo, fresh-faced cadets are always best, anyway. Their naïve optimism paves the way for experimentation, which, at this point, couldn’t hurt. What else is any analogy of the future except the exploitation of new ideas? While I’ve begun a hand-written “captain’s log” detailed the minutia of my day-to-day interactions, this blog will help me understand the big picture in more ambiguous (i.e. confidential) terms. Consider that phrase, “bold new direction,” I said. Interestingly, this new direction is really just my rickety old ship’s original course -- a continuing mission to inspire young people to realize their complete potential. Somewhere between the politics of our roles and the challenges of this community, this purpose was lost entirely. Yes, working with kids presents as many unknowns as what tomorrow may bring, and while folks often fear this, I embrace it. Like Earth’s earliest explorers braving the raging seas, or fiction’s starship captains staring down the phaser barrels of an unknown alien race, I’m excited to temper these self-hardened young people, and to help them embrace a future as promising as the one I’ve watched on television. I’m excited to boldly go where no one has been willing to take them before. |
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damn_noisy_kids's journal
