Volunteered for Kids Day today. The way this works is that my uni sets up a carnival-like atmosphere around the school so that the children of faculty and staff can come and have a good time playing with college kids, and we (supposedly) have a great time volunteering and chilling out with some neat grade schoolers. Or something like that.
Job involved running around after ten seven-year olds from 9a to 3p. In spite of all the cool rides and booths staffed by attractive college girls, all the damn kids wanted to do was run. RUN. Every time we'd have some free time, the kids would go "I'm bored Rumbo (my name for the day), let's race!" And so I'd race. Over and over again.
The cool thing about the kids my group got was that they weren't children of Tufts people - they came from a public school in Boston's Chinatown. At that age, though, kids are all the same. My mom will probably furiously correct me on this, but it's like to them, there's no class, no race, no enmity at all. They've got that rose-colored life that for which I'm toiling away in college, hoping to create for myself. I miss having my innocence.
Of all the kids, I was proudest to have met Davonte. I swear, twelve years from now Davonte Jones is going to be selected with the first pick in the NBA Draft, if he hasn't already gone to some D1 college football program. The kid is about three and a half feet tall with a four foot vertical. Craziest hops and speed I've ever seen on a midget. You remember those big balloon castles you used to jump around in as a kid? There was one of them kind of like a balloon obstacle course. There were two identical sides and kids could go in at the same time and race each other to see who could complete the course the fastest. Davonte was burning other kids who got ten second head starts. It got to the point where he was beating some of my friends (my adult-sized friends). Would have destroyed me.
Did I mention that Davonte is black?
I don't think I've ever sincerely thought "I'm too old for this shit" and meant it before.
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