When I graduated college, I was hired to work at a group home for juvenile delinquent boys. They hired me because I wasn’t afraid of the boys. (Clearly, they didn’t know my sister, Marion.)
I was put in charge of meals and education. I didn’t know how to cook and even though I had my teaching certificate, I had no idea how to facilitate, encourage, or even force education on “delinquent” juveniles. The weekend before I started, there was an “incident” so the home was on lockdown. I was solely focused on preventing another “incident.”
I burned everything I cooked. They refused to eat. I spent hours basically doing their homework for them. One night I was picking up overcooked peas that they threw at each other and bits of a pristine Ticonderoga pencil that Byron chewed to pieces. I couldn’t even do the bare minimum to earn my minimum wage. I was desperate. I just wanted to help. I started crying out of frustration.
The boys didn’t know what to do. Before then, they would cuss an inch from my face and threaten to punch me and I wouldn’t flinch … but there I was crying – they thought – because the dining room was messy and my favorite pencil was destroyed.
Jeremy offered to cook – on the condition that I take him grocery shopping and allow him to buy “real food.” Ricky offered to help Byron and Kim with their homework. Aron set up an arts table. Jeremy knew what everyone liked and how they liked it. Rick offered Byron the bed by the window if he got Cs. Aron helped everyone create their personal symbols. I bought him some permanent markers so they could “tattoo” each person’s symbol on their arms, legs, or backs (… and a few on the walls). Aron “tattooed” my symbol – a lion and a lamb – on my arm and he refreshed it regularly.
Not only were there no “incidents” but they ate well, passed their classes (Rick graduated), protected each other, and we earned privileges for outings. We went hiking, camping, and skiing. Within a year, several of them “graduated” and moved out. Each time I cried – not out of desperation and frustration but out of love and appreciation.
The boys didn’t want me to help them. They wanted me to see them and empower them.