Seven years ago at work, I received an email from a friend: "Hey Dev, I want to invite you to a luncheon to learn more about the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. I am a mentor, and I think you'd be a great mentor too."
I said sure. While I didn't know much about BBBS at the time, I felt that this was a place where I could make a difference in a child's life, a cause that runs deep in my veins.
You see, I was one of those kids who could have used a caring adult in my life as a child. I was the youngest of nine kids, and my father had left the house when I was very young, probably 5 or 6 years old. My mother worked as a waitress, making minimum wage and eeking out a living for her and the three of us boys who were still at home. And so, outside of the rare times where my brothers would take care of me or allow me to tag along with them and their friends, I pretty much raised myself on my own.
I became an old soul at a young age, and frankly if it weren't for a move to a new town when I was 12, I'm afraid of the path I may have went down. There are addiction problems that run deep in our family, the effect of generations of trauma that was never addressed. And so my childhood was filled with watching others with addictions make poor choices, poverty and a lot of dysfunction.
I could have used a caring adult in my life such as the mentors that the Big Brothers Big Sisters program provides. And so when Shane asked me to come to that lunch with him, the inner child in me compelled me to go to see what I could do to help other kids.
After that lunch, I was hooked. I knew that I needed to sign on. ... And I did.
That first year I was paired with a young boy who was in 1st grade and had spent the first three years of his life in refugee camps in Africa as his family fled war and violence. To say that that young man and I had little in common is an understatement. The first year I spent my time with him each week at his school during recess following him around watching him play with his friends. ... He just simply didn't have any clue what to do with an adult man as there had never been one in his life.
Even after months of this same pattern of interaction ... or should I say "non-interaction" ... I asked our case manager what I should do. And she said, "Oh, I can't imagine how tough that must be, but would you please try to hang in there through the year and we'll see about switching you to a new 'Little' next year?" ... (In BBBS, the youths are known as "Littles," and the adult mentors are known as "Bigs.")
So I hung in there, and year passed. Come the following fall, the case manager called again and asked, "So-o-o-o-o, I know last year was tough, but Jackson has asked if you might be his 'Big' again this year?" ... Oy, the question caught me off guard. Frankly, he didn't seem all that interested in me the year before.
But, I said yes, and we were paired for a second year. ... That year there was a turning point, about halfway through the year when Jackson opened up to me, and our relationship burgeoned. ... Pretty soon, each week I couldn't wait to get to the school for our 40 minutes together. I would get there right as his lunchtime would begin, and when Jackson came around the corner from the hallway that led from the academic wing, he would shout my name and run to hug me.
And let me tell you, everything that was crappy about that week would melt away. I mean, how could anything be more important than that moment?
Jackson and I were paired for three years. By the end of third year, he was ending our visits by saying, "I love you!" ... And even though because we were in the school-based BBBS program, he couldn't actually meet my family, he became an "unofficial" member of our family. Our kids talked about him. My wife, Shelley, couldn't wait to hear about our next visit. And his photo held a prominent place on our refrigerator. Jackson was family.
And then at the end of that third school year, I was informed that Jackson and his family were moving away. ... Out of town. ... And I would never see him again. ... Both he and I were devastated.
That summer I did some soul searching, wondering if I could take that heartbreak again if I took on another "Little" the following school year. And ultimately, I decided yes. ... I am now in my seventh year of mentoring. I am now with my third "Little," and this will be our third year together, even thought the pandemic will make interaction this year a bit challenging.
But in addition to serving as a mentor, I also started serving on our local BBBS Advisory Board in my second year in the program. And then three years ago I was elected chair. This week, I concluded a three-year stint as chair of that board, and the staff kindly recognized me for that service. ... I received a grand award, and they lavished praise on me. ... It was very kind.
However, I couldn't celebrate with them. ... As we start this school year, we have 104 kids still on our waiting list for mentors, and that doesn't seem like something to celebrate. My entire goal during my time as the Advisory Board chair was to raise the awareness of our program in our city. And I don't think I was successful enough.
There is now a new chair of the board, I hope that I handed it over in better condition than when I left, but it seems such a hollow victory when so many kids are still in need of a "Big." And I will continue on with my relationship with my current "Little," and I hope that it will last a long time. He's only in fifth grade, but I have hope that his family will stay in the community.
I am thankful for the kindness showed to me by the BBBS staff this week, but I pray that other caring adults will hear our plea through the local media for more mentors. ... The young child in me is crying out for every one of those 104 kids on our waiting list.
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