“Can you face-paint?” was the question, asked by an enthusiastic yet slightly harried mom-like figure.
I shifted slightly in my chair, judging within a millisecond her query. Could I face-paint? Not that I have anything better to do, I thought.
“Sure, I can try,” I replied, mirroring her busy but thankful grin.
When I signed up for the Lone Star Elementary Carnival today, little did I know that I’d learn a bit about others and myself by spending two and a half hours at an elementary school plastering kids’ faces with ladybugs, spiders, snakes, hearts, unicorns… lions and tigers and bears, oh my!...
This afternoon Andrew and I planned to go to the carnival to earn National Honor Society hours for a ‘service project’. I’m not against volunteering but I like going into a situation knowing what I’ll be doing- and face it, I had no idea what was coming as I followed Andrew to the school. It’s better than some things- reading to comatose patients or wiping baby butts. So I’ll spend a few hours of my time with kids when I could be… what, blogging? Homework? The carnival sounded better than anything else, so it’s what I picked.
But before we could even pick up a paintbrush or beanbag, we had to get to the school- which wouldn’t be such a big deal if it was out in the open. But it’s tucked into a tiny corner of the envelope of small houses behind and between a couple streets, extremely out of the way if you don’t know where to go. So it’s not completely Andrew’s fault that we got, well, completely and utterly lost, is it?...
Everything was going perfectly fine until I was behind Andrew and I saw the school out of the corner of my eye to the right. There it is! Finally! was my reaction. Excited, I pulled a right before I realized that Andrew hadn’t seen it at all, and was going straight forward. Great, here I was in this part of town I didn’t know, looking for a school I didn’t know, and without a phone, which was out of batteries. Its’ blank screen looked at me dismally. Where was Andrew? Well, I had found the school anyways. I parked, looking around me for several minutes while I waited for him to magically appear. After waiting for what seemed like hours I spotted him and we walked to the school.
“Not a word,” I said, on the brink of severe laughter.
I shifted slightly in my chair, judging within a millisecond her query. Could I face-paint? Not that I have anything better to do, I thought.
“Sure, I can try,” I replied, mirroring her busy but thankful grin.
When I signed up for the Lone Star Elementary Carnival today, little did I know that I’d learn a bit about others and myself by spending two and a half hours at an elementary school plastering kids’ faces with ladybugs, spiders, snakes, hearts, unicorns… lions and tigers and bears, oh my!...
This afternoon Andrew and I planned to go to the carnival to earn National Honor Society hours for a ‘service project’. I’m not against volunteering but I like going into a situation knowing what I’ll be doing- and face it, I had no idea what was coming as I followed Andrew to the school. It’s better than some things- reading to comatose patients or wiping baby butts. So I’ll spend a few hours of my time with kids when I could be… what, blogging? Homework? The carnival sounded better than anything else, so it’s what I picked.
But before we could even pick up a paintbrush or beanbag, we had to get to the school- which wouldn’t be such a big deal if it was out in the open. But it’s tucked into a tiny corner of the envelope of small houses behind and between a couple streets, extremely out of the way if you don’t know where to go. So it’s not completely Andrew’s fault that we got, well, completely and utterly lost, is it?...
Everything was going perfectly fine until I was behind Andrew and I saw the school out of the corner of my eye to the right. There it is! Finally! was my reaction. Excited, I pulled a right before I realized that Andrew hadn’t seen it at all, and was going straight forward. Great, here I was in this part of town I didn’t know, looking for a school I didn’t know, and without a phone, which was out of batteries. Its’ blank screen looked at me dismally. Where was Andrew? Well, I had found the school anyways. I parked, looking around me for several minutes while I waited for him to magically appear. After waiting for what seemed like hours I spotted him and we walked to the school.
“Not a word,” I said, on the brink of severe laughter.
Walking inside this elementary school was a bit of a culture shock for me; the front door was about three inches above my head, and I could touch the ceiling if I had really wanted to. The first thing that struck me was Alice and Wonderland’s experience with growing to a huge size and having the room around her shrink. But I’m not on any mushrooms… The lockers were hilarious: first of all, who knew elementary schools had lockers? Not me. Secondly, I could rest my hand on them and they were about stomach height. Keep in mind these are two lockers stacked on top of each other. Pretty sure I couldn’t fit one book in them, let a lone all the rocks, broken pencils, feathers, and all the other crap I carted around when I was eight.
The lady we spoke to directed us to a couple of booths to sit at. I took on “Paper Planes Racing” and Andrew took a booth where kids would attempt to knock plastic apples off the table with sling shots. I don’t remember the name of it but it must’ve been something like “Shoot and Miss” or “Attempt to Hit the Apples”, because Andrew had trouble with his booth. The sling shots were unworkable, to probably say the least. Even he never shot the thing successfully once. He says he had parents questioning the worthiness of his poor booth to the carnival experience. I had more luck.
After about five minutes at the dead “Paper Planes Racing” booth, one of the ladies in charge asked me if I’d like to shut it down and face paint instead. Sure… So I was whisked away, leaving Andrew alone with plastic apples and frustrated kids, to land in the gym at a full face-painting table.
“Just grab a brush, there’s the paint, and just look at these little pictures to see how to paint it,” were my only instructions as I sat down at the messy table. What did I do? I grabbed a brush. I don’t recall who my first guinea pig was, but I remember that she wanted- a cat. And I remember that my hand was visibly shaking as I started painting her cheek. I was nervous, yeah…
But as I painted I had plenty of time to think by myself, and slowly I realized that the girl nor the girl’s parents nor anyone else for that matter besides me and the other lady painting knew that I had never face painted before. So with that little vote of confidence my hand calmed down and I got better and better. I mean, come on, after the twentieth unicorn you get it down. The ladybug? Got it memorized. It didn’t start that way… my first ladybug I did, I forgot to put the black spots on. Part of me wanted to go chase down the girl and put black spots on her cheek, the other part of me cracked up at what her reaction she would be when she gleefully looked in the mirror that night before bed and saw a spotless ladybug.
Another kid I had kept moving around and chewing gum or something. Seriously?... One kept looking back at their mom. About half didn’t speak English. But heck, I know a little Spanish. Okay not really. “Como estas” is about my range, and that’s about it.
Me: “Hi! What do you want?”
Kid: *points at heart*
Me: “Okay, heart…” (silence for the remainder of the time)
This mantra of little kids, requests, painting, and parent observance continued until seven fifteen, after it had already ended. But our booth was popular, and you can’t turn down kids who want to be face painted, can you?
The night ended with a cat. Or was it a unicorn? Pretty sure it was a cat. I could paint a unicorn in my sleep now… But the point is, I gained a bit of confidence today, and a bit of wisdom, which is this:
Service to the community doesn’t have to involve anything strenuous or gross, or uncomfortable (for me that would be anything having to do with old people). You can have a great time and help some desperate moms out by just going to a carnival and helping paint little pictures on the cheeks of kids. People need help all over the place, and are always glad of a willing hand, even for a couple hours. So jump out of your comfort zone a bit- maybe not a whole lot- and do something you don’t normally do. I know I’m looking forward to the next time I get to volunteer.
Kid: *points at heart*
Me: “Okay, heart…” (silence for the remainder of the time)
This mantra of little kids, requests, painting, and parent observance continued until seven fifteen, after it had already ended. But our booth was popular, and you can’t turn down kids who want to be face painted, can you?
The night ended with a cat. Or was it a unicorn? Pretty sure it was a cat. I could paint a unicorn in my sleep now… But the point is, I gained a bit of confidence today, and a bit of wisdom, which is this:
Service to the community doesn’t have to involve anything strenuous or gross, or uncomfortable (for me that would be anything having to do with old people). You can have a great time and help some desperate moms out by just going to a carnival and helping paint little pictures on the cheeks of kids. People need help all over the place, and are always glad of a willing hand, even for a couple hours. So jump out of your comfort zone a bit- maybe not a whole lot- and do something you don’t normally do. I know I’m looking forward to the next time I get to volunteer.
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