Finding My Passion

A year ago I felt unprepared for the world. As soon as I would turn eighteen, and it wasn't far away, I knew I had to have a plan. But I had no idea what I wanted to do. It scared me because everyone knows what they're going to do with their life, and I didn't. I thought, what if I'm a bum, what if I get some job and it pays so little that I can't even get by, what if I become a drug addict, a drunk, freeloading off of people -- I didn't want to do that. I was looking for something, but I didn't know what.

I questioned football, yeah, I thought, I could be a football player, I could get a scholarship to USC, or try to be a doctor -- but let's be real -- that's hard.

Everyone was always telling me to find my passion. But how?

I wasn't thinking about that at all when I decided to volunteer at the YMCA camp that summer. I'd been a camper all my life, so being a CIT (councilor in training) was a big step. I thought, I'll do it for one summer, but I don't know if I'll come back. I knew the kids were wild. I expected to be breaking up fights left and right, to be putting kids on time out every five minutes for cussing, and for them to have their favorite activities taken away for acting out. I didn't think they'd listen to me. I saw kids talk crap to adults straight into their face, because in my neighborhood even little kids would bully people. They didn't listen to their moms, but they did listen to the music, songs like, "I'm doing drugs, I don't care what anyone says . . ."

When I got to the YMCA the kids were wild, running around, and I was like, oh man it's just what I thought, these kids are going to be crazy. When it was time to board the bus to camp I was asking everyone what their name was, and they were already ignoring me. I figured I'd try a camp ritual. I gathered them together and said, "If you can hear my voice, clap once." Okay, so I had to say it a couple of times, but it worked. When I finally got their attention I said, "My name is Chris, you can either call me Chris or Mr. Chris." They giggled. That was good. And on the bus, instead of throwing things, they were singing songs. Maybe this wasn't going to be so hard after all.

But then, on the second day, one of the kids started crying. His name was Chris, just like me. He was the youngest camper in our cabin, only seven. He was small, and he'd never been camping before. It was the middle of the day. We'd just gone back to our cabin to rest. I told the other kids to get in their bunks. I was surprised they didn't tease him. They just played with their own things, sneaking looks at him, messing around with their stuffed animals. See, the camp had all
these different meal activities, and one was the stuffed animal breakfast, so every kid was supposed to bring a stuffed animal from home.

Chris couldn't stop crying. He was homesick. It made me realize that I was homesick, too. Then the camp directors came in. I said, "Do you need any help?" and they were like, "No, back up, we can handle this." So I stayed back and watched. They tried to talk to him, to hug him, but all he said was, "get away from me, get away from me." He kept crying. The directors said, "We'll be right back, don't worry about anything." And they left. I think they went to their cabin to try to
figure out what to do.

Chris was still sitting on his bed, crying, saying, "I want my mommy. I want to go home." I wanted to help him. The directors always tell us not to make the kids think about what made them cry, they want us to distract them, we're supposed to say things like, "Well, did you have a
good time today? Wasn't swimming fun?" But that never works, it didn't work for me when I was a camper.

I had an idea, so I thought I would give it a shot, it might not work, but there is no harm in trying. I'd brought this great big bear for stuffed animal breakfast -- Chris hadn't brought one at all. I picked it up and sat down next to him. I said, "I miss my mom too. I'm going to be away from her for the same amount of time you're going to be away from your mom. We both miss our moms. What would make you feel better?" He said, "I want my mommy." I said, "Me too. How about this, what if you pretend this big bear is your mom and give it hug?" He grabbed my bear and gave it a big old hug. And then he hugged me. He stayed with me for the rest of the week.

It made me feel like I can help a kid when he's in need. And doing that helped me out, too. I really was missing my mom. I was going through the same thing he was. But when he started crying, I started thinking about him, and not anything else -- by helping him, it helped me. I
guess it sort of distracted me too.

And it helped me understand more about the little kids. I learned that when they're crying about one thing, sometimes it's not about that one thing at all, it's for another reason. Chris was crying that he wanted his mommy, but the real reason was because he didn't know anyone and he
felt left out.

I thought about the wild kids I knew. About how when you see something at home -- like people fighting, everyone disrespecting everyone else, it can make you feel left out, too -- but if you see something different when you're away from home, in a totally different environment, it changes you. If you're at home and your mom is cussing up a storm and doing drugs, all you're going to know is drugs and violence, but if you go away for a week and see kids having fun, then
you see possibilities for the future, and maybe you can bring it back home. And instead of breaking windows and stealing from the store, you can ride your bike up some hills and do arts and crafts.

When we got back home from camp, I was unloading the bus when Chris ran up to me saying, "Mr. Chris, Mr. Chris, I'm going to miss you." He was beaming. He brought his mom over and said, "This is Mr. Chris, he was real nice to me." I told her what happened and she thanked me. It was the first time he'd ever been away from her, and she'd been worried about him too. I was surprised to realize that I was sort of a mentor to him. It felt good.

From that day on, I knew what I wanted to do. I'd volunteer at the camp next year and the year after that. I want to go to college and learn about kids and child psychology, and then I want to open a day care center. I want to spend the rest of my life working with kids. They inspire me. They are my passion. Chris stuck with me for that week, but in another way, he will be with me forever.

Courtesy of Peace4Kids.

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