Turkeys and Firetrucks

A few days before Thanksgiving, I took a team of middle schoolers to a volunteer fire department to help the local Auxiliary committee assemble baskets of donated food. The goal was to spend a few hours sorting the food into boxes that would be delivered to families to use for Thanksgiving dinner. Please be advised that taking a group of 11-14 year olds ANYWHERE is not for the faint of heart and should be done only with extreme caution.

After I finagled all the phones and personal tablets, the next step was to split the kids into groups based not upon maximum work output as much as they were designed to keep them from physically injuring themselves or others. But, I can't complain too much because every one of these students had volunteered and happily agreed to help out on one of their days off. Apparently, they found something more worthwhile than Call of Duty or Minecraft.

First, we unloaded the food from fire trucks before unpacking everything onto several tables. Everyone was boisterous and youthful energy chimed through the firehall. Yeah, basically it was really loud. The kids were laughing and joking and genuinely enthused to be helping people they would never meet. It was very refreshing to watch them work because they hadn't figured out that helping others must be a sobering and somber experience. These kids actually had the audacity to enjoy themselves while they crammed boxes and containers into baskets.

Eventually, we finished and and the parents began arriving to collect their kids. While waiting, I had an opportunity to talk to the students and get some feedback. Most of the kids found an old soccer ball and an impromptu game broke out in the parking lot. But while the hilarity and good times ensued, I spoke with one young lady who opted out of soccer in favor of spending some long-lost quality time with her phone. She intermittently shared her experience and typed a million miles an hour as I asked her why she wanted to help.

After a few seconds, she lowered her hands (even the one with the phone seemingly welded to it) and looked up at me. In the most "matter of fact" way, she answered me in a tone that told me I must have asked the dumbest question imaginable. With a tenderness and sympathy reserved for most senile people, she summed up her motive in a simple sentence:

"I wanted to do this because it was the right thing to do."

From the mouth of babes.