It seems that dear old Santa lived to the ripe old age of 164. This picture conjures up memories of the first time I found out Santa wasn't real. Being the youngest of three sisters has its definite advantages, for which I'm grateful. Like getting to play outside on the weekends making mud pies because I was "too young" to labor furiously, carting wheelbarrows full of rocks like my sisters did- in order to landscape the yard. Teachers always had a good first impression of me, only because my sisters had the reputation of being likable students. However, I vaguely remember being 8 or 9 when my older sisters kindly let me know that Santa wasn't real! I was devastated. I had hoped to one day catch him eating the sugar cookies we made or drinking that glass of milk we always left out. I remember trying to wait up for a glimpse of the rotund man dressed in red until my eyes became too heavy to keep open.
During one of my sessions last week, I met with three siblings. They are some of my favorite clients to meet with because it's evident that they care for one another. All three have big aspirations. The youngest boy wants to become a doctor at a free clinic. The middle sister wants to spend her life as a research scientist. The oldest would like to be a professional soccer player by day, veterinarian by night. We are talking about what Santa is going to bring them this year, when the 10 year old sister says, "I really want some new CDs, like the Eminem CD". She still believes in Santa. Without thinking I say, "Your parents are going to buy you an Eminem CD?! I don't think they should buy that for you, you're a little young to be listening to that" (Needless to say, I'm not a big fan of Eminem and somehow I've become matron-like). Her face displayed confusion when I quickly corrected myself, "I don't think Santa should bring that for you." Hopefully my slip of the tongue didn't cause too much Santa damage for her parents.
Working with kids affords the most candid and sincere dialogues. My thirteen year old male client and I were talking about what he would like to do in the future. I often talk about the future with my clients because they need hope that there exist opportunities beyond what their backgrounds dictate. Most of my clients come from low-income, single parent families. Some of their fathers are in jail or on probation, some have never met their fathers, some of their older siblings are trying to stay out of jail.
So my client and I are discussing his future when he declares loudly,
"Miss, I wanna be a man."
I'm confused by what he's saying. "What do you mean, 'You wanna be a man'?"
"Miss, I wanna have my own garage."
I'm thinking maybe he means having his own house, which would mean having his own garage. "That would be nice, to have your own garage".
"Yeah, it would be, I want my own garage".
"What would you do with it?"
"I would make low-riders for Mexicans".
At this point I think that he could be on the verge of discriminating against all the other ethnicities (like he's even thinking this) so I say, "Don't you think you could make low-riders for other people too, besides Mexicans."
"Miss, have you ever seen any other people who like low-riders?"
I didn't really have a response for that. Although come to think of it, my brother-in-law had a low rider truck while he was in college and he's not mexican.
I do hope one day that my client will have the opportunity to work at something he really enjoys, and that one day he will have his own garage.
It seems that the year passes so quickly, it was summer not too long ago. When it's 30 degrees outside I miss those blazing 90 degree days of summer. It's yet another Christmas to get caught up in the frenzy of good tidings and mass consumerism. Not that I mind, though. In fact, I gladly told my husband all the things that I could definitely put to good use, not that I NEED anything more. I wouldn't mind having an easel on which to paint my mediocre paintings or I could also put a new car to good use. I wonder if I would miss my reliable little white honda with the stripe of red paint on the front bumper.
On a different note... in this business of counseling children for the government, I find that I am at the mercy of people's common courtesies. My client's parent tells me, "Yes, I will be there for our appointment tomorrow". I had four parents confirm this with me on the phone yesterday, and yet these same parents did not bring their children in today. This would be fine if I did not have a certain amount of "billable services" that I need to make each day... all contingent on people making their appointments. Maybe this will encourage me to be better about calling to cancel an appointment or simply follow through with my commitments.
