Hi everyone, this is a very rough draft of my college essay. I have just finished writing it and as of now, I am still a bit unsure about it. Please feel free to absolutely tear it apart. All constructive critisism is welcome.
I volunteer at a charity called Youthville, Wichita. Youthville is a non-profit organization that provides help to children who are either abused or have been abandoned by their families; it is basically a foster care agency. One of many services that Youthville provides is the donation of various "living items" to the children and their families. These include clothes, blankets, hygienic supplies, school supplies, and toys. During the months of July and August 2009, I was assigned to work in the Resource Room, where these items are kept. My job was to put the messy and frequently used room in order and to replenish supplies whenever they ran out.
My three-hour shifts were, for the most part, quite uneventful. My supervisor would simply lead me to the cramped room at the beginning of my day and from that point on, I would continuously organize the room for the remainder of my time. Even though it was only me working, I was hardly ever alone in the room. There were always people bustling in and out, rummaging through the shelves that I had just organized, looking for various items. Oftentimes, a hassled Youthville employee would ask me where they were located. I distinctively remember one instance where a frazzled looking woman holding a crying baby in one hand and a bottle of shampoo in the other, asked me where the size two diapers were.
It wouldn't be very frequently but sometimes children, accompanied by Youthville employees, would come in the supply room and wait for them to get their supplies. Often, I would catch the child's eye and smile; they would shyly smile back and perhaps even wave. This was the entirety of my interactions with the children. I am not sure why I never took more of an initiative to interact with them; perhaps it was because I felt like I was too busy working, or because I was even a bit shy myself. Nonetheless I had specifically opted to volunteer at Youthville because the idea of working to help kids appealed to me very much.
Yet, over the course of a few weeks, I started questioning my assigned task at Youthville. I had believed that working here would have me doing more than simply restocking a supply room; and although there was nothing disagreeable about it, I felt as though my job in the Resource Room was somewhat unimportant. I could not see how what I was doing would make a difference in anyone's life.
These feelings continued to be in the back of my mind until one day. I was working my usual shift and someone entered as I was folding clothes. I looked up and was shocked to see one of my classmates. "Hi," she said shyly, "I need some deodorant. Can you show me where it is?" Quickly, I managed to put a smile on my still appalled face and led her to the shelf that contained them. She fumbled through the assorted deodorants quickly and once she had selected one of her choice, she left the room hurriedly. Her embarrassment caused me to be embarrassed; I knew that she wished I had not seen her in a situation like this. Nonetheless, I could not help but feel grateful to her for opening my eyes.
The Resource Room had now gained a new deal of respect in my eyes. The things I had taken for granted: clothes, shoes, deodorant; they were something that everyone needed and not everyone had. It now became clear to me that this most basic of services was more admirable than many of the more "exciting" jobs at Youthville. The fact that someone I knew had been in need of supplies from this room only confirmed the fact that what I was doing had indeed been important.
My view on the clientele of Youthville changed as well. I had always thought of the children in an impersonal manner; my knowledge of them was limited to their appearance. Still, being in love with the idea of helping them, I had foolishly imagined myself as a selfless person, volunteering my time for such a good cause. As it turned out, I the first time I ever realized the importance of Youthville when I saw it helping a person that I had known for a long time. Seeing my classmate had made me realize the reality of my situation: how could I truly care for these kids when I did not even care to find out who they were?
The only way to fully benefit from my volunteering experience would be to take a more personal approach towards the children. Now, whenever I had a chance to see them, I asked them simple questions like their names and their favorite colors, and from the shelves I would hand them books that I thought they would like. It wasn't trying too hard- all I wanted was to let them know that I knew who they were. Now that my mind had been opened to the possibility of Youthville caring for people who I knew and had connections with, I would feel a spark of pride every time I entered the Resource Room and began my shift.
I volunteer at a charity called Youthville, Wichita. Youthville is a non-profit organization that provides help to children who are either abused or have been abandoned by their families; it is basically a foster care agency. One of many services that Youthville provides is the donation of various "living items" to the children and their families. These include clothes, blankets, hygienic supplies, school supplies, and toys. During the months of July and August 2009, I was assigned to work in the Resource Room, where these items are kept. My job was to put the messy and frequently used room in order and to replenish supplies whenever they ran out.
My three-hour shifts were, for the most part, quite uneventful. My supervisor would simply lead me to the cramped room at the beginning of my day and from that point on, I would continuously organize the room for the remainder of my time. Even though it was only me working, I was hardly ever alone in the room. There were always people bustling in and out, rummaging through the shelves that I had just organized, looking for various items. Oftentimes, a hassled Youthville employee would ask me where they were located. I distinctively remember one instance where a frazzled looking woman holding a crying baby in one hand and a bottle of shampoo in the other, asked me where the size two diapers were.
It wouldn't be very frequently but sometimes children, accompanied by Youthville employees, would come in the supply room and wait for them to get their supplies. Often, I would catch the child's eye and smile; they would shyly smile back and perhaps even wave. This was the entirety of my interactions with the children. I am not sure why I never took more of an initiative to interact with them; perhaps it was because I felt like I was too busy working, or because I was even a bit shy myself. Nonetheless I had specifically opted to volunteer at Youthville because the idea of working to help kids appealed to me very much.
Yet, over the course of a few weeks, I started questioning my assigned task at Youthville. I had believed that working here would have me doing more than simply restocking a supply room; and although there was nothing disagreeable about it, I felt as though my job in the Resource Room was somewhat unimportant. I could not see how what I was doing would make a difference in anyone's life.
These feelings continued to be in the back of my mind until one day. I was working my usual shift and someone entered as I was folding clothes. I looked up and was shocked to see one of my classmates. "Hi," she said shyly, "I need some deodorant. Can you show me where it is?" Quickly, I managed to put a smile on my still appalled face and led her to the shelf that contained them. She fumbled through the assorted deodorants quickly and once she had selected one of her choice, she left the room hurriedly. Her embarrassment caused me to be embarrassed; I knew that she wished I had not seen her in a situation like this. Nonetheless, I could not help but feel grateful to her for opening my eyes.
The Resource Room had now gained a new deal of respect in my eyes. The things I had taken for granted: clothes, shoes, deodorant; they were something that everyone needed and not everyone had. It now became clear to me that this most basic of services was more admirable than many of the more "exciting" jobs at Youthville. The fact that someone I knew had been in need of supplies from this room only confirmed the fact that what I was doing had indeed been important.
My view on the clientele of Youthville changed as well. I had always thought of the children in an impersonal manner; my knowledge of them was limited to their appearance. Still, being in love with the idea of helping them, I had foolishly imagined myself as a selfless person, volunteering my time for such a good cause. As it turned out, I the first time I ever realized the importance of Youthville when I saw it helping a person that I had known for a long time. Seeing my classmate had made me realize the reality of my situation: how could I truly care for these kids when I did not even care to find out who they were?
The only way to fully benefit from my volunteering experience would be to take a more personal approach towards the children. Now, whenever I had a chance to see them, I asked them simple questions like their names and their favorite colors, and from the shelves I would hand them books that I thought they would like. It wasn't trying too hard- all I wanted was to let them know that I knew who they were. Now that my mind had been opened to the possibility of Youthville caring for people who I knew and had connections with, I would feel a spark of pride every time I entered the Resource Room and began my shift.