Faith Break Archive I.C.A.N. (And You Can, Too!) - Written by Luann Brown 01.30.2008

Once you adjust to the loudness of the reverberating room - you see lots of eyes: Brown, hazel, blue and green eyes looking - quizzing, expectantly - right at you. Eyes of children from broken homes, poverty and a few even homeless, living in vehicles or jumping from one relative's floor or couch to another.

If they are not looking at you, they are looking at one another or studying papers in front of them - homework, they often struggle with or drawing creative pictures of dolphins, dragons or hearts.

Members of Light of Hope volunteer to offer after school snacks and juice. Their eyes look eager, hungry. and later - appreciative.

I volunteered there in the past, offering after school tutoring to children that needed an adult's healthy attention almost as much as the assistance with homework that parents often were unable to help with, for a myriad of reasons. Perhaps they, too, struggled with English as a second language or they were always working or education was not deemed as crucial as those successful know it is. For whatever reason, volunteers are needed for these children to help feed them, literally and in other important ways.

I.C.A.N. (Improving Chandler Area Neighborhoods) started as a grassroots effort ten years ago, by Henry Salinas. He noticed kids hanging out on street corners and joining gangs. Believing that part of the problem was too much time without adult supervision, a need for belonging and boredom - he gathered them up and asked them to go to a near by park to shoot some hoops.

What started so simply has grown into a place totally funded by private donations and some grant money. They now have their own buildings which includes an impressive computer room, a craft room, a kitchen and a large room for a variety of activities including learning how to be a D.J. and instructions in break dancing.

Since I don't break dance, unless I accidentally fall down, I offered to help with their after school homework. I.C.A.N. has their own van, so they can pick kids up after school and take them to I.C.A.N. For the first half
hour to an hour, they have to do homework, study or read. There's a shortage of one to one adult help for these children, ages 5 to 18 years of age and when we visited from our church, there were over one hundred
children there and a half a dozen of volunteers, besides us.

When I wrote this piece, I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell you about a teen-ager I met there, known as A.K.- as in A.K.47 - or about my experiences playing billiards on their broken down pool table, sharing their one cue without a tip or if I wanted to share with you about the five year old who couldn't get over how skinny my nose was and why this concerned him. What I've decided to share with you is my story about Melissa and Michelle.

Melissa is a very sweet, tiny, shy, bright, Hispanic seven-year-old, who loves to do her homework and revels in any positive attention given to her. Being new at I.C.A.N., she was the perfect little girl to begin a
relationship with. She was safe and enthusiastic. Nice. The first day that I was helping her with her homework, Michelle entered the room like a little light brown tornado. Nine-years-old and full of aggression and need, she blasted in and proceeded to shove Melissa's books and papers onto the floor. Before I could even react, she had whirled herself into another room and had disappeared. Melissa patiently picked up her papers and books, saying softly, "Oh, that's Michelle. She does that all the time. If the staff or volunteers see her, she has to go."

I noticed during my visits there that indeed Michelle did misbehave regularly. She avoided looking at me and kept her distance from everyone.  She was always moving, kicking, dodging or yelling. One day, I asked her if she had any homework. She responded, "No!" She threw in a profanity for emphasis. Melissa was sitting quietly next to me and explained, "She learns that from the adults in her life." I looked directly at Michelle and said as sternly as I could, "What are the consequences for cussing at I.C.A.N.?"  Frankly, I didn't have a clue if they even had any consequences for swearing. She looked a little taken aback and replied, "Well, first you have to take a fifteen minute time out and then if you do it again, you are suspended from coming here for a week." I tried to hide the fact that I was surprised she answered me as appropriately as she did and said, "Then what do you think you need to do then?" She looked down and responded, "I need to go take a time out." I was shocked that this had worked as well as it did. After her time out, Michelle continued to avoid me but refrained from swearing.

When I was leaving for the day, I noticed that she was following me out thedoor. "Oh no!" I thought. I pictured this little nine-year-old kicking my butt, right across the street from the police department, where I worked at the time! I thought it was one of those, "You and me, sister, after school, by the swings!" routine. I was mentally preparing myself to be lambasted once we were alone, outside of I.C.A.N. Instead, I was surprised to hear a voice from Michelle that I had not heard before. It was a sweet, soft voice.

"Luann?"
"Yes, Michelle."

"Why don't you come every day?"  I was stunned.
"Michelle, I didn't even think you liked me!"

"I like you," she stammered.  I smiled and said,
"You keep treating me this nice and I'll definitely want to come more often."

She smiled back and said, "Okay, bye!"

She then returned to I.C.A.N. and I practically skipped back to work. I felt so gratified.

I'll close with a favorite quote:

"A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I live in, or the kind of car I drove: however, the world will be different because I was important in the life of a child."