I signed up to volunteer for a kitchen shift on the first Monday night after classes began, January 12. Unlike my approach to delivering meals for PAH, however, I had many expectations when it came to volunteering in the Project Angel Heart kitchen; most of them centered on my anxiety that I would chop a finger off slicing onions or something, and thoroughly ruin the food with my blood. Beyond that, however, I was too nervous to think about what would happen once I was there.
Once in PAH, though, my fears eased greatly. I introduced myself to Summer, who showed me the aprons, gave me a kerchief for my hair, and handed me an apple peeler, an apple peeler thankfully shielded in plastic.
So, I peeled apples, and I talked to people. While Summer was very kind to me, and beyond funny, she was also very busy, so I spent most of my time laughing at the jokes of another worker, Joy. Joy talked about everything, and while I was definitely the new-comer, I still found it interesting how close-knit the workers seemed to be. The conversation itself also intrigued me. Though the workers and volunteers I was surrounded by were cooking meals for those critically in need of the food, the conversation did not center around all the good they were doing, or in the retelling of inspirational stories, but rather in the everyday events of all their lives. Joy talked about her son, and the men she dated, and her Grandpa, and her family who still called her by her childish nickname, “Uncle Fred”.
It was like a family’s home kitchen; the atmosphere was on the small details of life and the funny anecdotes that occur each week, not on the magnitude of the work being done, or the magnitude of the food being made. It was an odd experience for me; for, while I enjoyed the conversation, I could not cease dwelling just how many apples I was peeling, and why I was peeling them. Then again, however, I was the new-comer. I think, perhaps, the regulars at PAH were able to concentrate on the small things of life because, to them, volunteering or working for this hugely influential non-profit was not a major event in their lives, it was merely another small detail that comprised their lives. Because I was new, and the experience was, by far, “an event”, I could not do the same.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
MaryKate's PAH reflection: deliveries
On Saturday, the 10th of January, I helped Professor Bateman, along with two other students, deliver meals for Project Angel Heart. Upon arriving at PAH, Marysia, Jennifer and I were all given a brief introduction by the volunteer coordinator, Anne, on how to approach meal deliveries, and what not to do, and say (particularly, “How are you?”). Altogether, we delivered meals to 6 different clients, whose homes were all relatively close.
While still at DU, waiting with Marysia and Jennifer for Professor Bateman—the driver—to arrive, I anticipated a rather lengthy ordeal of driving all across town to deliver meals to a variety of individuals, living in homes that would automatically indicate their need for food assistance. I don’t know why I anticipated this, but now I would attribute such an ignorant assumption only to ignorance. For after completing the delivery run, and gaining even minimal knowledge of PAH and PAH clients, I realized how wrong I was in my assumptions.
Even upon arriving at Project Angel Heart, however, my anticipation was the same, though I was shown a detailed map of planned delivery routes and pick-up stations. While I was slightly awed by the scope of the delivery system, I did not yet recognize just how organized it was, and just how quickly we would complete the delivery route.
Only after we began driving to deliver meals did I realize how wrong my expectations were. Instead of driving up to homes in neighborhoods perpetually bowed under economic hardship, Professor Bateman drove the other students and me into neighborhoods very much like neighborhoods all across America, neighborhoods characterized only by their utter middle-class suburbia atmosphere, and because of the thorough planning of PAH, neighborhoods very close in range to another. Each house we drove by and delivered to seemed white or beige, and if they weren’t, I certainly can’t remember now. The neighborhoods blurred into one another, and as we drove along the gently curving roads—streets lined with young trees—seeing a bright blue home was almost a shock to behold amid all the uniformity. The driving did not take very long though.
For, I was wrong in my presumption of how time-consuming the deliveries would be, as well. Delivering the meals was not a lengthy affair at all, given that PAH is so very organized with their delivery routes, and handing a bag or two over a doorway takes all of five seconds. Yet, I can say I was right about one thing. The one anticipation I had that was not totally discredited within five minutes was the variety of people we handed the bags to.
A young African-American boy of around 12 received the first meal I delivered, and I still don’t know if it was for his mother or grandmother, but it was a woman. The second meal found a waiting client, an older woman, who readily answered the door. The third, and last, meal I delivered personally was greeted by 3 generations of a family: the meal was for a grandmother, but her daughter, granddaughter, and great-grandson (a baby) were the ones waiting for the meal. After ushering us through the brightly decorated home, the mother and granddaughter informed us the grandmother was waiting, but fell asleep. The variety of people answering the door not only confirmed my suspicion that PAH helped all sorts of ill people (young, old, and what not), but showed me that PAH also helps the family members of the ill, extending their influence even further into the community.
While still at DU, waiting with Marysia and Jennifer for Professor Bateman—the driver—to arrive, I anticipated a rather lengthy ordeal of driving all across town to deliver meals to a variety of individuals, living in homes that would automatically indicate their need for food assistance. I don’t know why I anticipated this, but now I would attribute such an ignorant assumption only to ignorance. For after completing the delivery run, and gaining even minimal knowledge of PAH and PAH clients, I realized how wrong I was in my assumptions.
Even upon arriving at Project Angel Heart, however, my anticipation was the same, though I was shown a detailed map of planned delivery routes and pick-up stations. While I was slightly awed by the scope of the delivery system, I did not yet recognize just how organized it was, and just how quickly we would complete the delivery route.
Only after we began driving to deliver meals did I realize how wrong my expectations were. Instead of driving up to homes in neighborhoods perpetually bowed under economic hardship, Professor Bateman drove the other students and me into neighborhoods very much like neighborhoods all across America, neighborhoods characterized only by their utter middle-class suburbia atmosphere, and because of the thorough planning of PAH, neighborhoods very close in range to another. Each house we drove by and delivered to seemed white or beige, and if they weren’t, I certainly can’t remember now. The neighborhoods blurred into one another, and as we drove along the gently curving roads—streets lined with young trees—seeing a bright blue home was almost a shock to behold amid all the uniformity. The driving did not take very long though.
For, I was wrong in my presumption of how time-consuming the deliveries would be, as well. Delivering the meals was not a lengthy affair at all, given that PAH is so very organized with their delivery routes, and handing a bag or two over a doorway takes all of five seconds. Yet, I can say I was right about one thing. The one anticipation I had that was not totally discredited within five minutes was the variety of people we handed the bags to.
A young African-American boy of around 12 received the first meal I delivered, and I still don’t know if it was for his mother or grandmother, but it was a woman. The second meal found a waiting client, an older woman, who readily answered the door. The third, and last, meal I delivered personally was greeted by 3 generations of a family: the meal was for a grandmother, but her daughter, granddaughter, and great-grandson (a baby) were the ones waiting for the meal. After ushering us through the brightly decorated home, the mother and granddaughter informed us the grandmother was waiting, but fell asleep. The variety of people answering the door not only confirmed my suspicion that PAH helped all sorts of ill people (young, old, and what not), but showed me that PAH also helps the family members of the ill, extending their influence even further into the community.
Further reflections on Barbara Ehrenreich's "Welcome to Cancerland"
Here is Marysia & Kristen's reflection for you to respond to by Sunday evening:
After yesterday’s controversial discussion of Barbara Ehrenreich’s, “Welcome To Cancerland,” we were exposed to a very different and seldom expressed view on the tragedy of cancer. Although we understood her arguments saying that cancer is being sugarcoated and “normalized” we are still confused whom she is angry with, and why. Is she angry with the people who are trying to help raise cancer awareness and subsequently created a “breast cancer cult?” Is she angry towards humankind for inflicting themselves with this sickness? Or is she angry at both situations? If she is angry with the group of people who are trying to help breast cancer patients, then we do not agree with her arguments. Even when we point out the breast cancer culture’s faults, they are still beneficial to society and their positives heavily outweigh their negatives. If she is angry with humankind for inflicting themselves with this sickness, then she should also be angry with herself because she is part of the polluting population. It almost seems like she is just angry to be angry and create more anger in society. We all saw the frustrated response most of us had in class to this writing, and we were wondering how beneficial this piece is to the breast cancer cause? Is it meant to be beneficial or is she just expressing the isolation she feels from this “cult” that was originally intended to create a community for breast cancer patients who felt alone like her?
After yesterday’s controversial discussion of Barbara Ehrenreich’s, “Welcome To Cancerland,” we were exposed to a very different and seldom expressed view on the tragedy of cancer. Although we understood her arguments saying that cancer is being sugarcoated and “normalized” we are still confused whom she is angry with, and why. Is she angry with the people who are trying to help raise cancer awareness and subsequently created a “breast cancer cult?” Is she angry towards humankind for inflicting themselves with this sickness? Or is she angry at both situations? If she is angry with the group of people who are trying to help breast cancer patients, then we do not agree with her arguments. Even when we point out the breast cancer culture’s faults, they are still beneficial to society and their positives heavily outweigh their negatives. If she is angry with humankind for inflicting themselves with this sickness, then she should also be angry with herself because she is part of the polluting population. It almost seems like she is just angry to be angry and create more anger in society. We all saw the frustrated response most of us had in class to this writing, and we were wondering how beneficial this piece is to the breast cancer cause? Is it meant to be beneficial or is she just expressing the isolation she feels from this “cult” that was originally intended to create a community for breast cancer patients who felt alone like her?
Friday, January 23, 2009
service-learning mistakes
The past week's class readings and discussions have really turned my mind more toward the broader picture of civic engagement and service learning. At the beginning of our course, I was excited about learning about nonprofits and writing for Project Angel Heart. Though I think I realized my actual volunteering would have no long-lasting impact, I liked to think about the good my writing would do for PAH (hopefully, if it was good enough, of course). Yet, after reading "Children in the Street," by Paula Mathieu, I've been thinking much more about the negative aspects of service-learning, and even the damage that students can cause to non-profits. While I am not insinuating in any way that our class or our university would cause such damage, I do believe that without examining how students, in general, have the capacity to do more harm than good, we leave ourselves open to commit such hurtful follies ourselves. I know, even in my own short volunteer past, I have made mistakes.
The first to come to mind is how I handled an incident that occured between siblings at a day camp I volunteered at last summer. When two brothers threw their little sister into a trash can, I assumed reprimanding the boys myself and then speaking to their parent would be enough, as the little girl was neither hurt nor upset, and even tried to throw the smallest of her brothers in the river later on in the day. As it turned out, handling it myself was not the proper way to go about it. The mother was not upset, by any means. Apparently, this type of incident occured all the time, but the camp had a specific manner of approaching such incidents. When the parents of other children found out, they were very upset and concerned. The camp was not able to say they had handled the situation and it would not happen again; they could not say it because of me. I apoligized, of course, and did not get in trouble; it was a small mistake. But I never want to make a mistake like that again.
Thus, in approaching the writing project for Project Angel Heart, I am a little more wary than I was before, though I am still very excited. I've tried to become more aware of that I am doing a service for them, at their discretion, but I still have some reservations about the project. I am worried if I will actually be able to serve them in a productive manner, since I know so little (relatively speaking) of the organization, and if in some way, I may hurt them by just taking up their time. As we are all beginning our own writing projects, I wonder about the reservations the rest of you have, if any, and why you have them. In the same way, perhaps the best way to alleviate such concerns is recognizing past mistakes (our own and others') and learning from them. What mistakes do you think service-learning students most commonly make and why do they cause harm? In what ways can we avoid making the same mistakes?
The first to come to mind is how I handled an incident that occured between siblings at a day camp I volunteered at last summer. When two brothers threw their little sister into a trash can, I assumed reprimanding the boys myself and then speaking to their parent would be enough, as the little girl was neither hurt nor upset, and even tried to throw the smallest of her brothers in the river later on in the day. As it turned out, handling it myself was not the proper way to go about it. The mother was not upset, by any means. Apparently, this type of incident occured all the time, but the camp had a specific manner of approaching such incidents. When the parents of other children found out, they were very upset and concerned. The camp was not able to say they had handled the situation and it would not happen again; they could not say it because of me. I apoligized, of course, and did not get in trouble; it was a small mistake. But I never want to make a mistake like that again.
Thus, in approaching the writing project for Project Angel Heart, I am a little more wary than I was before, though I am still very excited. I've tried to become more aware of that I am doing a service for them, at their discretion, but I still have some reservations about the project. I am worried if I will actually be able to serve them in a productive manner, since I know so little (relatively speaking) of the organization, and if in some way, I may hurt them by just taking up their time. As we are all beginning our own writing projects, I wonder about the reservations the rest of you have, if any, and why you have them. In the same way, perhaps the best way to alleviate such concerns is recognizing past mistakes (our own and others') and learning from them. What mistakes do you think service-learning students most commonly make and why do they cause harm? In what ways can we avoid making the same mistakes?
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Citizens and the community
After listening to Lakeasha Jones speak the other day in class, my enthusiasm towards working with Project Angel Heart only grows. The service Project Angel Heart offers is like no other in the Denver area. Hearing Lakeasha say that without Project Angel Heart the people they cater to may not be living or would literally wear away was hard to believe. Could we as a country completely neglect people like this to the point where their lives are threatened? While one would think that this is crazy, it has become more prevelent than other in recent years. If one looks at the homeless rates in this country you can see a 40% increase in homelessness since 2000. Some factors have to be taken into account with this situation, like the current economic slump. Although this prohibits some people from donating money to public service organizations, their time and commitment is still needed. This is what makes organizations like Project Angel Heart the most effective in my mind. Even though it needs for money/food to be donated, the driving force behind it comes from the volunteers involved. More people should be aware of organizations like this and their work should be displayed to try and pass the message. To me, being able to work in an environment like that Project Angel Heart creates is one of the most rewarding feelings. Staying on the topic of service, I'm left with a questoin to ponder: Should a citizen feel more obligated to serve his/her community, or should the community as a whole feel more obligated to serve the citizens?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Preparing for our work with Project Angel Heart
Reflecting on our first week of class, I’m struck by our move from more abstract theories (say of the public sphere or rhetoric or even the nature of civic engagement) to more concrete issues (like the stories Paul Loeb includes in the chapter from Soul of a Citizen), and I’m growing curious to hear more from each of you about your thoughts and feelings about the work we are embarking on together this quarter. More specifically, I’m curious to hear more about your initial impressions and response to the prospect of working with Project Angel Heart.
Let me share one of my experiences as an undergraduate student as a way to open up this conversation:
In my first year at college, I volunteered for an AIDS hospice in Tacoma, Washington. Initially, I did so mostly because a friend of mine also volunteered there. She and I lived in the same house and had become close friends in the first few months of school. When she started sharing her stories about her experiences there with me, her passion for the work convinced me to volunteer as well.
The hospice was an old Victorian home that had been remodeled for four or five men with late-stage AIDS to live in and have a place to die with dignity. With its wrap-around porch and sturdy architecture, it projected a feeling of warmth and a quiet kind of respect for the men living there. The staff intentionally cultivated this atmosphere, and despite the very real and material presence of illness and death's approach (this was before the more successful HIV/AIDS drug treatments were available), the space was comfortable, strangely reassuring, even.
Despite this welcoming atmosphere, I remember completing my first few shifts feeling anxious, my stomach churning, full of worry. Nervous I would do something wrong or say something inappropriate, I felt uncertain, awkward, tentative. In my mind, it seemed like such a daunting task, helping care for these men who were so close to death. What should I say to them? How would we interact? How should I talk to the one man who seemed intolerably grumpy? And what about the man who never seemed to leave his bedroom? For the more experienced, these fears might have seemed naive or immature, but for me, they were real.
As I spent more time there, I grew more comfortable and adjusted to the social conventions of this place. I began to see our work there like any other. Despite our closeness to death, life went on. We cooked meals for the men, played card games, and had the most typical of conversations. Death didn't pervade every interaction, endowing our work with meaning at every turn. It just was.
I reflect on this experience as a way to ask you all about how you're feeling right now about working for Project Angel Heart. Do you have any questions, reservations, or anxieties? If so, what are they? What past experiences prepares you for our volunteer shifts or our writing in action project? What's your impression thus far of service-learning? How do you think this work will enhance your skills as a writer?
Please take a moment and use the comment feature to reply to this post. And be as candid as you're able. Thanks.
Let me share one of my experiences as an undergraduate student as a way to open up this conversation:
In my first year at college, I volunteered for an AIDS hospice in Tacoma, Washington. Initially, I did so mostly because a friend of mine also volunteered there. She and I lived in the same house and had become close friends in the first few months of school. When she started sharing her stories about her experiences there with me, her passion for the work convinced me to volunteer as well.
The hospice was an old Victorian home that had been remodeled for four or five men with late-stage AIDS to live in and have a place to die with dignity. With its wrap-around porch and sturdy architecture, it projected a feeling of warmth and a quiet kind of respect for the men living there. The staff intentionally cultivated this atmosphere, and despite the very real and material presence of illness and death's approach (this was before the more successful HIV/AIDS drug treatments were available), the space was comfortable, strangely reassuring, even.
Despite this welcoming atmosphere, I remember completing my first few shifts feeling anxious, my stomach churning, full of worry. Nervous I would do something wrong or say something inappropriate, I felt uncertain, awkward, tentative. In my mind, it seemed like such a daunting task, helping care for these men who were so close to death. What should I say to them? How would we interact? How should I talk to the one man who seemed intolerably grumpy? And what about the man who never seemed to leave his bedroom? For the more experienced, these fears might have seemed naive or immature, but for me, they were real.
As I spent more time there, I grew more comfortable and adjusted to the social conventions of this place. I began to see our work there like any other. Despite our closeness to death, life went on. We cooked meals for the men, played card games, and had the most typical of conversations. Death didn't pervade every interaction, endowing our work with meaning at every turn. It just was.
I reflect on this experience as a way to ask you all about how you're feeling right now about working for Project Angel Heart. Do you have any questions, reservations, or anxieties? If so, what are they? What past experiences prepares you for our volunteer shifts or our writing in action project? What's your impression thus far of service-learning? How do you think this work will enhance your skills as a writer?
Please take a moment and use the comment feature to reply to this post. And be as candid as you're able. Thanks.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)