I was somewhat surprised to find that the actual volunteering I'd volunteered for came around today. In nearby Concord there's a Child Care Center where kids come to do their school homework for an hour every evening before playing until their parents finish work. It's a conveniently short BART ride away from us. "You'll stand out here," said Judy, the center's director, as she showed be around. "You're not Latino, so you're not a parent. You're a man, so you're not a teacher. And as soon as you open your mouth they're going to work out you're not American. Oh, and don't bring any valuables in with you. Do you speak Spanish?"
In the classroom I met Alison, another helper, grabbed a badge (my name is "Volunteer" until they print one for me), and we waited for the children to be walked across the road from the school by the two full-time teachers here, Iris and Niele. Soon enough, they all arrived.
"Wow, you're big!" was the first comment I received from a six-year-old, quickly followed by questions about my name and how old I was (really old). Soon I was helping Teresa and Crystal with their maths homework, as well as writing out the alphabet (in capital and lowercase) and the numbers from 1-30 with Umberto. Then it was time to dance (with ribbons) before a game of loteria (Mexican bingo, but with pictures. They even have equivalents to the British 'two little ducks' etc.)
All in all it went pretty smoothly. "Why do you talk like that?" I was asked more than once. No one had ever heard of England, but I impressed many with my ability to touch the ceiling. "We also need help on Mondays and Wednesdays," Iris mentioned as I left. As wiser people than me have pointed out: there's no such thing as free ice cream.
