Warren wrote a play. He starred in it, too. Considering the fact that a month before, Warren had been too shy to raise his eyes from the ground, too intimidated to speak to his peers, or the fifteen SideWalk Chalk volunteers that showed up at his school to provide a summer camp, it was a pretty big deal.
It took a lot of work - not just on Warren's part but all the volunteers as well. We met at 7:30 each morning, made the trip to Edisto, spent the day with sixty elementary school students, drove home, and went to our night jobs. We raised $10,000 for art supplies, meals for campers, workshop leaders, and all the other unexpected bills that add up when you're running a camp.
Some days, it didn't seem like it was worth it; but that day - standing off to the side of the stage, watching Warren stare at the crowd of 150 when the curtain opened - I knew it was. It took him ten long seconds to take it in, and then he spoke. It was the highlight of my summer.
After the play, after all the art displays had been taken off the wall, when the parents and campers and community members were leaving I saw Warren walking with his mom to their car.
"Warren!" I yelled. They turned around. "Did you hear how loud those cheers were?"
His mother wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close, laughing this laugh that happens when you're proud past words. He looked at me and smiled.
It was all worth it. It reminded me of why SideWalk Chalk exists, and what we're trying to do. We want the students of our under-resourced schools to know they have a voice. We want them to learn to communicate, so they can have a better future. We want to break the cycle. And it reminded me of my job - our job. To leverage what we have for someone else. To give something we thought we needed away - time, money, talent. That's why we're excited about the Charity Classic, and our partnership with the Harbour Club this year. You'll be helping SideWalk reach 600 students every single week. That's a lot of voices. A lot of futures. Thank you. Really.
Labels: giving