My youngest son tells a traumatic tale from first grade about how I was not present for the now infamous Apple Orchard Field Trip of 2014. He came home that day visibly shaken, lamenting, “You were the only Mom not there. I was the only one completely alone on the field trip.“ Cue him throwing his tiny body onto the floor.
This story is partially accurate. I wasn’t there. Volunteers were chosen by lottery, and my number was not drawn for that particular one. However, every child did not have their own parent present. He was never alone. The piece of the larger story he conveniently leaves out is how I missed one and only one field trip during his entire childhood. If witnessing his every breath was a job he was offering, I’ve worked overtime since 2008.
It was unusual I wasn’t there because I usually volunteer. While it is fun to see kids in their school setting, I volunteered long before that. This is the way it has always been with me, and I have proof.
I recently came across a handbook from when I was in the Performing Arts program at Minnesota Dance Theater. I was the “Level Rep” every year, starting at the tender age of nine. I guess telling everyone else what was on the calendar was part of my personality, even in fourth grade. During college, I was the secretary on the hall council, taking notes at high-level meetings about holiday decorating and pizza deliveries during finals. Junior year, I was a junior counselor shepherding a corridor of first-year students, even though I did not really have my own life together. I was a social worker and volunteered as an academic tutor after school. The fact anyone trusted me to help a precious child with math is terrifying. I’m hoping I didn’t set any of those kids back with all my well-intentioned help.
I have been the room parent during elementary school years, the Art Adventure picture person for eight years, I ran a non-profit for many years with a friend, served on booster clubs, helped plan large and small scale church events, served meals at dozens of school and community events, been on planning committees for both my high school and college reunions, coordinated toy drives, done meal packing; I’ve tried it all. And I have absolutely cherished being a volunteer.
Volunteering never feels like work to me, it feels better. It feels like being a small thread in the community fabric in a way a paid position could never be. And I rarely seek out these positions. Rather, they somehow find me. Which is how I find myself in all sorts of unusual situations, often being forced to learn a completely new skill set.
My adult daughter works at St. Bartholomew’s school in Wayzata. She loves her job, and her co-workers, and hearing her highly animated stories about her experiences is one of my favorite shows these days.
When I heard they needed help in the library, I jumped at the chance. Surrounded by books? Sign me up. Did you know that the plastic that covers library books is attached by humans? That’s my gig. I’m the human. The bonus is the wonderful staff there and the delightful students.
I recently learned Minnesota has one of the highest levels of volunteer participation in the country. So maybe it’s nature and nurture, and perhaps my youngest son had been socialized to feel that volunteering for every person every time is the norm.
There are plenty of “opportunities” I cheerfully pass on. I’ve watched our local high school beg for volunteers for the overnight graduation party. I delete those emails. I can’t imagine many worse posts than supervising an adolescent casino night at 2am with 900 seniors. Luckily, there is a volunteer position suited to everyone, and someone else will likely gladly cover that night. Good luck to them.
For now, I’m so enjoying my little book covering project. I’m not saving lives. But there is something satisfying knowing I may have prevented a tiny, sticky jam-filled hand from ruining a precious library book, so it lasts a bit longer for the next child to enjoy.
If an opportunity presents itself, try to volunteer. It pays so much better than all the other jobs.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in Shorewood with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.