The summer camp that I work for went on a swimming pool outing yesterday and I was fortunate enough to be one of the water chaperons that makes sure none of the kids are fighting or drowning in the pool. It was one of the best experiences I've had in Philadelphia in the year and a half I've been here. I was payed, rather handsomely, to be in a pool with 1st through 6th graders, to make sure they were being safe while having a fun time. Both were executed quite successfully. For about 5 to 6 hours, with one short lunch break in between, I was given the opportunity to throw, wrestle, carry, splash, dunk, spin, flip, chase, escape, and chill with some of the most lovely, endearing, heart breakingly beautiful children in the world. The kind of children who face tougher odds then snow balls in July but somehow muster the courage and strength to be happy and playful almost all of the time.
Since many of the kids have never had the opportunity to take swimming lessons, they all stayed in the shallow end, impressing each other with how long they can keep their heads underwater, and what cool tricks they can do off the side of the pool. But when they have a 25 year old second grader as a chaperon/jungle gym, opportunities for more fun arose. For the most courageous youngsters, I helped them do flips off of my knee. For those who couldn't or didn't want to do flips I would just throw them a few feet to the side, to the point where I had a line of kids waiting their turns to be tossed aside with an assembly line like efficiency. The younger kids that didn't want to be thrown just appreciated being pulled around the pool like two long trains from each of my arms. At one point I had a trail of kids 6 deep on each arm, meandering through the pool like multi cultured water snakes.
While every student seemed to be enjoying themselves on the Mr. Tyler water ride, it became apparent after a rather short amount of time which students were more dependent on adult affection then others. Out of the 20 to 30 kids that would come and go for a toss to the side or a water ride or quick wrestle, there were about 6 or 7 of them that were with me almost the entire day. They all have their own unique, and heart rending stories, but each one of their histories has led them to the same point of needing extra attention from either an adult or male father figure. At one point, while crawling around like alligators in the shallow end with a second grade girl named Aneesah, she stopped me and looked directly into my eyes with her own, beautiful amber eyes and asked "Mr. Tyler, do you know how to stop your heart from hurting when your dad dies?"
There might be people out there that are equipped with the know-how to deal with a situation such as this one. Unfortunately I am not one of those people. My initial reaction was to just start crying for her right there on the spot. With hesitation I asked her how her daddy died, and she said he had a heart attack. What's worse about this situation is that her mother had been murdered about two years ago and she was now living with her grandmother.
I told her I didn't know how to make her heart stop hurting, and that it might hurt for a long time, but she should try and remember all the fun things she did with him while he was here, and in the mean time, we should keep crawling around like alligators and scare people that came after us. Later on in the day she asked me if I would be her daddy, or her uncle, to which I replied, "I can't be your daddy or your uncle, but I can be your Mr. Tyler." She seemed disappointed that I could not fill the void in her heart, but at the same time content that she had a Mr. Tyler to call her own.
The moment came and passed in seconds, and she never broke a stride or a tear throughout the whole day. It just goes to show the absolute resiliency of kids, even when odds are stacked against them. For me it was a lesson in humility, who, a day earlier, had dedicated a whole blog post to how pissed off I was about a few overdraft charges. I believe selfish is the word for that.
Needless to say there will be no more posts on this blog about my minor instances as a human being, because, in the grand scheme of things, even though I like to make myself out to be a martyr that has struggled for his position, I have been relatively lucky with the hand of cards I've been dealt. I will never forget that moment for as long as my memory serves me, nor do I want to. It was a poignant reminder to not take for granted anything, and cherish everything in this beautiful struggle we call life. Thank you Aneesah for teaching me something that 25 years of selfish living could not.