PBHA-A July 2010 Newsletter

PBHA History
… six Harvard and Radcliffe students spent that July and August with a group of twenty boys, aged 13 to 15, giving academic instruction and leading them on trips around Boston and beyond. Camping trips, water skiing, horseback riding, and sandal- and belt-making were among the activities planned. But so were boxing and field trips to the Carling brewery and the Deer Island House of Correction. The activities may have been different from the typical SUP program, but so were the participants, most of whom were on parole or were students at the local Lyman and Shirley reform schools.

Perhaps the best appraisal of the program came from the students. “It gave me a better opportunity to straighten myself out,” said one participant. “It kept me out of trouble.” Based on the success of the program that summer, the director of the Massachusetts Department of Youth Services parole volunteer project indicated that a version of the PBHA project would be introduced in YMCAs and boys clubs around the state for weekends and after-school hours. The need for the program and those like it would continue, since within a year both the Lyman and Shirley reform schools shut their doors forever.

PBHA Alumni Spotlight: Mike Schultz ’02

… Not doing one-off service days, and not coming in from above and deciding what a particular community needed. Saying to ourselves, “We’re part of our local community, let’s get to know our neighbors, and jointly let’s find out what issues we all care about and want to work on together.” It’s not the easiest thing to get to that point with a high school, particularly a parochial one where the kids live in a wide geographical area, but I was very proud of the relationships the kids at Stern Hebrew HS, in Philadelphia, built with organizations including Project HOME, in North Philly. They really took ownership of what they were doing, really got to know the community as best we could, and it was a transformative partnership, in terms of doing good work but more importantly in terms of reaching out over a considerable divide and actually building those relationships.

Along with bringing the quality approach to social justice work that I had learned in PBHA to the Orthodox world, I became passionate about the need for our communities to be more engaged with the world around them. That desire to effect change is what led me to YCT Rabbinical School, and to cofound Uri L’Tzedek (www.utzedek.org), our best attempt to continue our religious community’s move towards seeing justice for the world as part of our communal mandate, to educate for action and to actually build those community partnerships to effect some real change. On the educational end it’s been very successful, and in terms of action Uri’s biggest push has been setting up the Tav Hayosher, the Social Seal, that in parallel with certification that a restaurant or communal institution is kosher, they can also be certified as following ethical guidelines in the treatment of their workers. As more and more customers demand that the restaurants meet both standards, it will change communal adherence to proper treatment of workers.

Those two things, building community partnerships and engaging my religious community, were my driving forces for several years. But ultimately I realized that educating and motivating others, even with an action component, weren’t what I needed to be doing, I needed to be in the heart of things, working with people. Here’s where it all goes back to the beginning of my work at PBHA. My second or third night at the shelter, on the overnight shift, around 2 or 3 in the morning, sitting at a table by the laundry in the back room (this is before the renovation in ’99) was one of the guests, working on his law school work. We got to talking, he was an interesting guy, to some extent it was a nothing special conversation yet it still stands out so strongly for me today. Getting to know him, the first guest at a homeless shelter who I got to know, opened up a world for me. Two people can connect, just about no matter what. And that connection is the holiest thing I know. I’m a hospital chaplain now, working in oncology at Rambam Medical Center, in Haifa. I get to spend every day meeting amazing people and getting to know them on a very deep level. It occurred to me last week how much I really don’t even think of them as people with cancer, just fellow travelers going through a very pregnant part of their lives (pregnant with emotion, pregnant with meaning, pregnant with opportunity).

I’ve learned a lot in the last few years about how I relate to life, and to God, about what it is to enter into relationship with others, and about the complexity of life. My task now is to give you a piece of advice, young graduate – it is to be flexible. You may have amazing passion. My wisdom that I’d try to impart is to follow your passion, no doubt, but try to accept from the get go that things won’t necessarily work out the way you planned. And that’s totally fine. There’s not one way to define success, or even a good life. Things are not all in our hands, but that’s ok, and life can still be good. If you’re willing to let things shift, while at the same time continuing to remember your key values and always trying to make the time and quiet space to develop your inner spiritual and emotional lives (and developing them can just mean listening to what’s happening inside), then I think you’ll be in great shape, and the lives you touch will be in better shape.

My wife, Rachael Gelfman (PBHA ’02) and I moved to Israel a year ago. We’re living in Karmiel, in the Galilee, where I’m one of the rabbinic leaders of a fun growing community, and where our 5 month old, Yotam, very much enjoys the parks. If you’d like to come visit we’d love to have you. I’d love to hear from old PBHA friends, schultz@bantha.org – this means you.

Student Newsletters

July 2010 Issue
A day in the life of a volunteer….
Featuring: Gary D. McCrear, Mission Hill Summer Program
I never thought I would come back for a second summer with the Mission Hill Summer Program. The long hours with the kids who didn’t listen and those who acted out were difficult. Feeling like they weren’t learning anything sometimes and feeling overwhelmed by the amount of work I was putting into them and not getting back out of these children was discouraging, at first. However, I can honestly say I love what I do and I love working with the children and the families of all the kids of the program. I initially was a last minute pick for the program when I joined in the summer of 2009. It seemed like I was not going to mesh well with being thrown into a new situation with people I’d never met in a city I had never been in before. Unlike most of the people that are a part of SUP, I’m from a small all-black all-male school in Georgia, so this was completely out of my comfort zone initially. I can now say that I’ve never made a better decision in my life.

Working with children is difficult, but rewarding all at the same time. I work with the younger children (ages 6 and 7) and they are the ones that are newer to the school system and still trying to learn common rules and grasp onto common concepts that most children already have acquired as they grow. Allowing these children to become a part of my life has been one of the most influential experiences I’ve had that has pushed me to want to become a teacher as a career. Getting to know these childrens’ backgrounds as well as what makes them who they are is really important and mind-blowing. I see these kids 5 days a week, for 8 hours a day, and I swear it is a learning experience as each day passes. I’ve never felt so empowered by working alongside other college students, some of which are doing this for the first time, and some junior counselors who have been part of the program since they were kids and know their way around the area better than we do. It’s an amazing partnership to become a part of such a large community and feel like you’re being welcomed with open arms. Last year, I thought that my summer ended kind of rough, and I wouldn’t return, but my love for my children and their families made me want to give it a second chance. I can say that it has been rough but more than well worth it.

Teaching these kids math skills, reading skills, and just life skills makes my job worth it, to the point where it doesn’t just feel like a job, but also feels like a privilege. I appreciate the warmth that I feel from the children wanting to hang around me, as well as the parents calling me just to check up to see how I’m doing throughout the day. It takes a special kind of person to really want to be dedicated to working and bettering these kids, as well as not just our own but others from different camps and communities by doing programs such as ‘Collaboration’ with the Keylatch Summer Program from the South End. It also is an awesome opportunity for me to get to know other counselors from different backgrounds, different schools and different camps, and developing strong relationships that will take me throughout my years.

SUP is an amazing program that gives so many children some of the most awesome opportunities from all around the Greater Boston, Cambridge, Dorchester, etc. areas and PBHA is an awesome organization that has been catering to these kids for so long. It’s quite obvious why the programs have been running for so long. I would never suggest this to someone who is not strong willed or strong minded. As I stated before, it takes a special kind of person to do this kind of work. I’m just glad I had the opportunity to even become a part of something this magnificent. The children are what I do it for, and I can honestly say that these experiences will take me through my years and have given me the building blocks for what I want to do with my future.

April 2010 Issue
A Day in the Life of a Volunteer…
Marena Lin

I was first at the nursing home in my town fourteen years ago, part of a biweekly visit with my third grade class. At the time, I was confused by the fact that Sylvia, my ‘buddy,’ had married at 16 and stayed a housewife throughout her life. But those are the kinds of generational differences I had the privilege to learn of at such a young age. Throughout the year, we made animals out of cottonballs, built picture-frames, and read together. For our last visit, we each wrote and illustrated a short picture book about their lives and our friendships with them. I regret never having gone back and wonder what became of Sylvia.

Fast forward to college, and it’s clear that the memory of Sylvia hasn’t faded. However, I was a late-bloomer when it came to making community service a regular part of my routine. I was already a second-semester junior by the time I joined the Phillips Brooks House Association (PBHA). The community service I do with them takes place at Vernon Hall, a nursing home in Cambridge, through a PBHA program by the same name. From spending time with individuals a couple generations ahead of me, I not only get a sense of the loss that comes with dementia and degenerative disorders but more importantly, the profound emotional void from being separated from one’s family — often due to financial necessity. And it amazes me that even a couple hours a week visiting with a resident can breathe meaning into their lives. At the bare minimum, we all get by on food, water, and shelter, but I’ve come to the conclusion that we exist for the relationships we have with others, our friends and our families.

However, as with any community service, the people I’ve spent time with have given me more than I’ve given them — it’s hard to ignore their perseverance, their sense of humor, and not a visit goes by without a story emerging from their rich memories. They’re a constant reminder that we can never take our independence or our friends for granted.

Over the past semester, I roped a few of my friends and my sister into coming with me to the nursing home. I’ve changed their names to preserve their privacy. Over one weekend, my sister created a strong bond with Ricardo, a resident who had grown up in Cuba.

A few weeks after her visit, I wrote her an e-mail:

Subject: Are you in love with me?

is what Ben asked me the other day. He said this grandly, pushing his arms against the table and hovering closer, the corners of his smile stretched underneath his eyes.

Startled, I laughed. “Of course, Ben, I care about you a lot. That’s why I come see you.” Ben is 98 years old, and his marriage ended last year when his wife passed away at 96. That was seventy years together.

“Aw you laughed.”

“Well I don’t think you have to ask,” I said, with this wide, semi-embarrassed grin. But it was perhaps too obvious that I had been caught off guard. Personally, I’ve found it very difficult to tell anyone that I love them. This tendency is an anomaly at the nursing home where anyone and everyone says “I love you” as if they’re tossing out a fishing line and hoping to haul something, anything, in. It’s a currency that is freely spent and rarely valued by people on the receiving end.

And every time I see Ricardo, he asks me, “Wheh’s yoweh sheester?” You left quite an impression on him. Want to write him some letters and include a couple pictures? It must have felt great for him to be valued like another human being for once..

Many of these interactions are heartbreaking, but it’s clear that a little time with people goes such a long way. Even though these nurses are paid for what they do, they have an incredible amount of compassion for the people they serve. I’m sure it’s also difficult to avoid becoming desensitized to what happens around you on a daily basis.

At Phillips Brooks House Association, there probably exist several dozen volunteer programs for children, but I can count the volunteers who choose to work with the elderly on my fingers. Anyone who volunteers is doing an invaluable service to the local community, regardless of what it is. But as much as it is true that children are our future, the same argument can be made for the elderly: someday we’ll all get there. Hopefully, though, it won’t take us till then to realize how important it is to value this part of our population.

Letter from the President
PBHA President Kaitlin Koga

As a child, one of my favorite things to do was watch my grandfather garden. Although I sadly did not inherit his green thumb, I was always taken by how lovingly and skillfully he would tend to the earth. He dedicated time and energy to his work all year long, but it was really in the spring, after the rainy season, that his garden would emerge in full bloom and color. By May, bright sunrise colored mangos would be ripening on our tree and you could breathe in the wonderful fragrance of pakalana and pikake blossoms from anywhere in the house. It never failed to impress me that year after year, my grandfather was able to take his hard work and love for the earth and transform it into a garden of beauty and growth.

PBHA is full of people who, in the same spirit as my grandfather, dedicate their energy and devotion to their programs and their work. Unlike my grandfather’s garden, however, the world we live in is a much more difficult place to plant seeds of change. It is easy to feel discouraged when inequality continues to flourish in the communities we work in and the lives of the people around us. Yet and still, I truly believe in PBHA and the way it asks its leaders to think deeper and be better in the way that we serve. Like few other organizations on campus, PBHA challenges students to develop into individuals who are more conscious of the injustice that pervades our society and more committed to work for a world that is better.

This is something I witnessed a few weeks ago when I attended the last reflection session for Stride Rite, a scholarship program in PBHA for low-income college students. The seniors in the room came to the table with incredibly diverse personalities, values, service experiences and plans for the future. Many of them had gone through periods of disillusionment, difficulty or anger in their work. Yet, without fail, as senior after senior spoke, each one recalled their service experiences and expressed their resolve to keep up the fight and dedicate their future toward creating social change.

This was also a sentiment echoed in the words of Senator John Culver, a former Graduate Secretary of PBHA, who returned to the Parlor Room in late April to attend a reception held in his honor. Remembering his time in PBHA in the sixties, Senator Culver described how his early commitment to service helped him be more critical of himself and his colleagues as he entered political work. Above all, Senator Culver emphasized that the only reason to run for office is to serve people and hope that what you’re doing is making a positive difference in their lives.

So as another year comes to a close, I’d like to challenge everyone in PBHA to take a moment to reflect about the work you’ve done and how you’ve grown from it. What have you seen in your programs that have appalled, affected or inspired you? What have you learned that has altered the way you see the world and what you believe is true? Most importantly, how are you taking the spirit of your program work into your life outside of and beyond PBHA? Whatever your answers, I hope that the growth you’ve experienced this year will continue to challenge and inspire your commitment to serve.

There is no way I could end a piece on reflection without acknowledging PBHA staff member Ariel Harms, who is leaving us this May. As PBHA’s student development coordinator for the last four years, Ariel has been a true pioneer in helping students be more introspective about their role and work in service. To Ariel and the PBHA class of 2010, thank you for everything you’ve done and all that you will continue to do toward the goal of social justice. PBHA wishes you the very best.

Warmly,
Kaitlin Koga

March 2010 Issue
Article: A Day in the Life of a PBHAer…
I wasn’t looking forward to being a freshman all over again this year; my excitement at being in a world without curfews and over-protective parents was tempered by the usual host of things self-conscious seventeen year old girls worry about. I spent hours figuring out a new college wardrobe and trying to remember what making friends was like. Move-in day arrived quickly and I came to campus bright eyed, fully equipped with an over-stuffed suitcases and a bad haircut. Thankfully, the overwhelming amount of things to do and get done left little time for being self-conscious. It didn’t take long for me to feel lost in a world of problems sets, practice, and midterms (which I quickly learned happen more than just in the middle of the semester). It was after yet another LifeSci exam that I tagged along with a couple friends who wanted to pick up some ice cream from an open house; it ended up being a PBHA study break. Though I didn’t leave with a sundae that night, I’d stumbled into an organization that continues to serve as a place I can always count on and was introduced to an incredible program that has defined my freshman experience.

The Kids with Special Needs and Achievement Program, or KSNAP, runs out of two sites, but both involve mentoring students with special needs. The Condon school site meets on Tuesdays and works with kids with Asberger’s and autism, helping them with their writing skills. The Quincy site involves developing confidence and social skills for kids with varying degrees of cerebral palsy through arts and crafts. Joining KSNAP is one of the best decisions I’ve made this year. Every Friday, regardless of how the week before has been, I get to leave everything behind with a quick ride on the T to Chinatown. We walk up to Josiah Quincy Elementary school and through hallways peppered with Chinese letters and pro-Obama paraphernalia, including a life size cut out, to Mr. Sacco’s special needs classroom. Netanya, one of the students, greets us first, eager to show off the newest story she’s written on the whiteboard. After a couple of minutes, the rest of the kids file into the colorful classroom. The way they greet us is probably one of my favorite parts of the whole experience; the pure love and excitement that we’re met with, free of any expectations or conditions, is something I’ve never really felt before KSNAP, and I think that’s what makes it the most fulfilling activity I’ve ever been a part of. Gio wheels over to Kim, another KSNAPista, and excitedly motions for her talk pad; Mr. Sacco puts it on her lap and she immediately begins tapping away at its animated buttons to announce that she has a surprise: she was going to be a big sister. Immediately everyone moved to high five and hug her, though Netanya insisted on exchanging a “fist bump” she’d been taught earlier.

Being around such genuinely happy and sweet kids is inspiring, and it’s often hard to believe that anyone could fail to see how special they are. Yet kids with special needs are often marginalized at school and in their communities. So instead of helping the kids academically, we spend the rest of the afternoon building their social skills and confidence while working on arts and crafts together. While finger painting bird houses and making clay ancient artifacts, we get to encourage and show these students how incredible they are. As the day come to a close, we arm everyone with layers of winter wear, help them into their wheelchairs, and go back through the colorfully papered halls to a little balcony playground where the rest of our time is spent pushing wheelchair races and playing tag until the buses come. Those three hours seem to go by quickly and every week feels as though outdoor time comes earlier every week, probably because Fridays at KSNAP are a time where I can be a kid and along the way show students that are otherwise ignored how amazing they are. Regardless of the week I’ve had before, I know I will always walk away with a thoroughly fulfilling experience every Friday.

My involvement in KSNAP and PBHA has defined my freshman year, and looking back, all of my summer jitters about fitting in at Harvard seem silly. PBHA volunteers are some of the most welcoming people on campus. They reached out not because of my image but merely on the grounds of a shared interest for community service. The upperclassmen in this organization guide me through my first year; the freshman I’ve met struggle with me, and the kids I work with encourage me every week. Being involved in any PBHA program means finding a group of truly genuine people that share your passion for service, something I found in KSNAP.

February 2010 Issue
Quiz: February’s Historian Quiz Answers