Since 2019, I’ve been working as a staff member at the Toronto Kiwanis Boys and Girls Club. K Club is a weekly narrative about that.
***
November 27, 2024
Amalay looked at me. “Glen where are you from?”
“Where do you think?”
“Greenland,” Adonay said.
“Greenland?”
“You look Croatian.”
“I know. London.” Kasonete said.
“You think I’m from London?” I said in my best British accent.
“Oy, you’re from London?” Adonay said in an accent.
“You’re from Manchester?” Danyom said in an accent.
River said he couldn’t do one. But he could do a Jamaican accent. That’s what his mom sounded like when she was angry.
“I’m from Canada,” I told them. “Toronto.”
“Obviously, but where are your parents from?” Kasonete asked.
“Also here. Born in Toronto.”
“Your grandparents?”
“Toronto.”
“Woah. So you’re white.”
“The most white.”
“Doesn’t that mean that you’re British?” Auset jumped in. “Because way back the British came and colonized.”
“That’s right.”
“Oy lad, you’re from Manchester?” Danyom was still doing the accent.
November 22, 2024
I pulled out the extension chord and lowered the blinds. I told them that we were going to treat this like a movie theatre. Had everyone been to a movie theatre? What were the rules?
“No yelling.”
“Yes, no yelling. Exactly.”
“No talking.”
“No bringing in outside candy.”
“No getting up and dancing.”
“No throwing stuff.”
“Yes, all of that. So those same rules will apply here.”
Kids were moving their desks around. Changing seats to sit next to their friends or to get a better view. Danyom ran and turned off the lights. Michelle came in with little plastic cups of popcorn. Then I started it.
About forty-five seconds in the round loading thing popped up on the screen.
“The internet is trash!” Someone yelled.
I panicked for a few seconds. Refreshed it. Then it worked.
I watched the kids watching the movie. I had to tell some of the girls to stop talking. Had to take away their cups once they finished because they kept playing with them and making sounds. I knew I couldn’t expect them all to sit still for a long time.
Then all of a sadden there was a shooting scene. Death. I didn’t realize there was so much violence. All the kids were watching, glued to the screen. Damien pulled his hood over his head. Should they be watching this? Are they old enough?
I sat there, looking around at the kids, watching them watch the movie, thinking all this, unable to relax. But at least they were quiet.
November 15, 2024
PA day, so no school today. Which means no K Club. Fuck.
November 8, 2024
Up in the classroom I tried to give them riddles to distract them.
A man rides into town on his horse on a Sunday. He stays two days and two nights and then leaves on Sunday. How is this possible?
Mistica got it. The horse’s name is Sunday.
“Another one!”
A father and his son get in a car accident. The father dies in the crash, and the son is rushed to the hospital. While in the hospital bed, the doctor walks in, looks at him, and says ‘I can’t operate, that’s my son.’ How is this possible?
Lots of guesses. Eventually Abigail got it. It’s his mom. “Yes, a doctor can be a woman.”
Then I was out of ideas. I started hangman. Some of them were interested. At one point I went over and sat down with David. Asked him about his week. How he was doing. Then I asked him if he liked movies. Books. He shrugged. I asked him, say I wanted to write a book, what did he think I should write about. What’s the story?
He said if he were me, he would just take another book and copy it. Copy the whole thing word for word.
“What about plagiarism?”
He didn’t care. That’s what he’d do. Then he got up and walked away.
November 1, 2024
I have this video on my phone. From way back when I first started at K Club. The first month or two. We’re in the classroom. All the desks are pushed to the side. Michelle is standing near the front by the chalkboard. A yellow headwrap on. She’s smacking the chalkboard, calling out, “cent, five cent, ten cent, dollar.” The camera spans the room. Kids are standing around, sort of dancing. “Cent, five cent– wait! You guys don’t know the move. Let me show you the move. The move is…” then she starts moving her waist left, right, back, and forward. A great seriousness about her. “Cent, five cent, ten cent, dollar.” Then she starts smacking the chalkboard again with both hands.
You can hear screaming. Laughter. Kids are starting to move. Michelle is yelling out, “cent, five cent, ten cent, dollar.” And then she starts speeding up. Hitting the board faster and faster. The kids start dancing. The whole room. Spinning in circles, falling to the ground.
“You guys are not doing the move! I said the move is–”
I can see myself in the background, leaning against one of the tables. I’m shy. Barely even moving one foot. Watching.
Michelle again. “You guys are young. You gotta learn to move your waste.”
“Feeling the party, hot hot. Feeling the party, hot hot.”
Smacking the board. Speeding up the beat. Dancing. Laughter. Then the video cuts.
October 26, 2024
There was a sign up in the stairwell about the Halloween dance coming up. A bake sale. There were decorations around the principals office. I was standing near the bottom of the stairs and I could hear someone running. They were coming down the steps, then a pause, then a big thud as two feet hit the floor. The same thing again. Hurried running, pause, smack. The sound of kids jumping down to the landing.
October 18, 2024
I stood near the front of the room, eating my rice and turkey, talking to this boy Zachary. “How was your week?” I asked.
“Hmm. Good. How bout you?”
I was surprised. None of the kids ever asked me how my week was.
“To be honest, stressful. I’ve been stressed in my other job.”
He seemed to be considering what I said.
“Do you ever get stressed in school?” I asked. “With all the school work?”
“Not really.”
“Maybe it’s an adult thing. Do you see your mom being stressed at all?”
“Not really,” he said again.
“Well what things make you stressed?”
He starting thinking.
“Or anxious. Or Nervous.”
“I don’t know.”
Damien kept getting up and asking for more ketchup. “I need ketchup or a drink of water. It’s so dry.”
Then Zach thought of something. “Maybe when meeting new friends. Trying to meet new friends,” he said in a sort of a question.
“That makes you nervous?”
He nodded.
“How do you like your class this year?”
“It’s good,” he responded far too quickly. “It’s good. It’s a 5/6 split. I’m in the grade 5 half. But it’s a good class.”
October 11, 2024
The school is next to a church. Right before the bridge over the Don river. A big patch of concrete with a wire fence running all the way around it.
There isn’t a piece of grass anywhere. All cement. That bumpy, popcorn, made to destroy your skin concrete. Michelle told me once that there were bodies under the playground and that’s why the school never dug it up, but I just figured they didn’t have any money.
There’s a few lines for a running track. A backstop for a baseball diamond but all the bases have faded. The ground sort of slants all in one direction toward the building.
In the middle of the yard are basketball hoops. White backboards with orange rims. One hoop is taller than the others, and there was no mesh on the rims, so even if you make a shot the ball can roll all the way to the other side of the playground. Its sort of an unwritten rule that if you miss you get it, but if you make it the other team does. Other rules include: no swearing, no fighting, no talking to people outside the fence.
It’s a funny thing. Most places downtown are all buildings. High rises. But there was this stretch along Queen east. Still being developed. Two story buildings. If you stand there watching the boys play basketball, it feels like you can see forever. Blue skies. The whole city.
October 4, 2024
There was another activity stapled up on the wall from earlier in the week. About Truth and Reconciliation day. I guess they were supposed to write the country they were from.
Simon. Ethiopia.
Brian. Nigeria
Daniel. Canada, but my parents are from Ghana.
Burundi.
Mexico.
South Africa.
Filipino.
Venezuela.
Eritrea.
More Ethiopias.
September 27, 2024
The older kids weren’t outside yet. It was mostly the younger kids. Grades two and three and four. They were easier to be with sometimes. Their imaginations were still big.
“Are you ready!” Fikile looked at me.
“What?”
“Are you ready!” He yelled to Brian. Then he put his arm out in the middle of us. “Rock, Paper, Scissors. Ready, go!”
We both threw scissors. We both threw rock. Then finally I won.
Nobel walked over and wanted to play.
“Are you ready! Go!”
On shoot I moved my fingers like I was tickling a dog’s stomach.
“What is that?”
“Fire. Fire burns paper.”
They all seemed to agree.
Robel played next. I forget what he did, but I dropped a bomb from above so I won.
Then Markan. “Rock, paper–” He put his arms out in a circle. “I’m a volcano.”
“Doesn’t a volcano erupt and kill itself?” I asked.
“What are you?” he asked.
“I’m a dove.” I had my thumbs together, moving my hands like wings. “You know, like beauty?”
I was running out of ideas.
Simon did something from Dragon Ball Z.
Nobel told me to bend down and whispered that I should be God.
Fikile said he was a black hole.
“What wins, God or a black hole?”
Nobel whispered that I should be double-God.
It was time to go inside.
September 20, 2024
It went like this.
Esse was athletic. He could drive, but he had no shot. Ugly form. Shawn Marion-like. Matthew had spilt orange gatorade all over his white shirt. He was the most fundamentally sound. Naod was good, but he was a better soccer player. Emmanuel was good but he had crocks on. And he was gaining so much weight. They didn’t let River play. The teams were unfair. That was a foul. That wasn’t a travel. Adonay told them to check the ball, and when they did he turned around and scored. “I just used my brain!” he pointed to his head. It’s clear on possession! Emmanuel you can’t score in the paint! Glen was that a foul?
It went like this.
River’s bracelet broke. The Jamaican colours. Beads all over the floor. He started crying.
It went like this.
Emmanuel’s younger brother was in K Club this year. Grade five. Way smaller than the other boys.
“What’s your name?”
“David.”
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Basketball player.”
“Can you sing?”
“No.”
“Play an instrument?”
“No.”
“What makes you happy?”
“Playing basketball.”
“What makes you sad?”
He thought. “When someone takes away my ipad.”
He was good at basketball, but he was so small. The other boys could just trap him and steal the ball. Post him up. So I decided to get up, and David and I would play on a team.
You never know how hard to try with kids. I stole the ball then backed down Esse. They doubled, and I fed David for a jump shot. Bang! One nothing. The next possession I drove, so both of them had to help. Passed to David at the top of the key. He made it. Game! Get off the court! David was smiling.
And we kept doing that. I’d try on defence. Steal or block the ball. And then on offense I’d dribble around, set picks, until David got an open shot. He was so tired at one point. Please! You shoot it, he was begging. But we won every game by him scoring all the points. Davids better than all of you!
It went like this.
After every single basket, the boys did something. Too small, putting their hand down to the floor. Or they’d cross their arms after they made a shot. Posing. Or they’d pretend to take out a bow and arrow. After every basket. Talking shit. Doing a dance. Soon, they weren’t even playing anymore. It was just someone shooting, and if they made it, all the boys would do a celebration. A dance. Usually something inappropriate. Laughing.
“Here, Glen. You step forward with your left foot, then tap your right foot behind. Eyebrow, eyebrow, then swoop your arm down and up, flex, then roll your body.”
“Roll your body, not just your hips.”
“Bro, I’m white.”
September 13, 2024
On one side of the room I wrote strongly agree on the chalkboard, and on the other I wrote strongly disagree. Then I told all the kids to stand up. I was going to say a sentence. A statement. And they were supposed to walk to one side of the room or the other, depending on what they thought. Or stay in the middle. “Make sense?”
OK, the first sentence is: Everyone should be forced to go to school.
Almost everyone walked to strongly disagree. I laughed. “Ok, why?”
“Because some people have learning disabilities. Or they can’t get to school. Of they have mental health problems because of school.” Wow. Good answer.
Adonay was on the other side of the room. “That’s what you learn about in school though. Mental health, stupid.” There was lots of talking. I was trying to get them to quiet down. Someone in neutral said you should get to choose. More arguing.
“Ok, ok. There’s no right answer. It’s just to see. Next statement: If you speak English, you don’t need to learn any other languages.”
Kids were thinking. More on strongly disagree. The older boys were following eachother. “Why you riding Emmanual!”
“Ok, Kasonete, why do you strongly disagree?”
She was quiet. She didn’t know.
“Ok, Auset?”
She said because if you meet someone who doesn’t speak english, you could communicate with them. If you went to spain or something.
Naod. Strongly agree. Why? “You could just google translate.” Laughter.
Someone else. “But google translate isn’t always correct.”
“What? Are you dumb?”
“What if you don’t have a phone?”
“Everyone has a phone.”
More talking. Fighting. Some kids were trying to leave the room.
Ok. Next statement. Everyone can be an artist.
Everyone went to strongly disagree. I was surprised. The kids seemed to be together. I repeated the statement. Everyone can be an artist. “Definitely not. Definitely not.”
“Ok, tell me why?”
Esse. “Because you can draw some shit that’s trash.”
“Ok, so you’re saying you have to be good to be an artist.”
“Yea.”
Auset. (Auset was always drawing in her notebook. Writing stuff. Last year we found this thing she wrote about someone giving a blowjob. It was a whole thing). Auset. “I know lots of people that are good artists, but the people that see it, they don’t understand. They don’t appreciate the art.”
“Ok.” Then I asked the room. “Do you think making music is art? Or dressing stylishly?”
“Ya.”
“Ya that’s why you don’t have any style,” someone yelled. Loud again. It wasn’t exactly going as planned.
Thinking about it now, I didn’t know what I thought. Can anyone be an artist? I thought everyone could make art, if they wanted to. Write something. Take pictures of something. A good parking job, that was art. Biking holding a pizza. But would it be good? That was another question.
Someone could platter something on a canvas and it looked like trash, and someone else could do it and it looked amazing. Why was that? Was it all taste? What did the french say? Des gouts et des couleurs, on ne discutes pas. Colours and taste, we don’t discuss. Because they are different for everyone. It’s all taste.
My friend told me once that good art was authentic to the artist. And that seemed like the right answer to me. But was everyone able to be authentic? Was everyone able to portray things authentically through art? Was I?
That was part of the reason I liked this idea. Because you give up control. You don’t have expectations. You see what comes. You can get too in your head if you try to think up everything. You can get too in your head sitting in your apartment every morning. What to do? What are you doing with your life? And then you have to get up and go to work. Become a zombie.
“Ok, ok. Last statement. Ready? I think Toronto is a good city.”
“Oooh.” There was thinking. Some indecision. People going one way or the other. Agree? Disagree?
“Emmanuel, you’re just following everyone else!” Most of the boys were strongly disagree. Some neutral. Some agree. We were split.
If you asked adults, I bet they’d all go strongly disagree.
“Ok why? Ok why?”
“Too many crackheads!” Laughter.
“Why are folks neutral?” Zach put his hand up. “Because interest rates are so high right now.”
“What?” (I asked his mom about it later and she said he’d been watching too much news).
Mistica was on strongly agree. I picked her. Free school, she said. Mistica was so tall. Skinny. So quiet. She’d moved from Uganda last year. “Ok. Good answer. Free school. Not everyone has free school. Alright, Emmanuel, why do you strongly disagree?”
“Because I do.”
“But why?”
He shrugged. “Because I do.”
“You need a reason!” someone yelled.
“Ok, Esse. Why do you?”
“Because healthcare is shit.”
“What? It’s free here,” someone yelled. “It’s much better than other countries.”
“Who said anything about other countries? I’m talking about here.”
“Other places have much worse healthcare than here.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m saying here is shit.”
Emmanuel thought of something. “Crime. Shootings.”
“There’s no shootings here,” Danyum said.
“Yea, the crime rate is high.”
“What’s the crime rate?”
River looked at me. “It’s like 86% right?” He was holding a toy monkey.
Emmanuel. “It’s like, something divided by–”
“No, what’s the percentage?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly, you know don’t. So how can you say it’s high?”
Then there was really a lot of yelling. Too loud. Kids weren’t paying attention. They were talking. Drawing on the chalkboard. We were done the activity. “Let’s just go outside.”
***
August 17, 2024
I asked some of the older boys to help me. We were handing out flyers and putting up posters to raise money for the Boys and Girls Club. As we were walking down the street, they started going up to random people.
There was one kid who was well behaved. Matthew. He would get the houses the rest of the kids missed. Offered to take the other side of the street. He had glasses.
Somehow it came up that I spoke French, and he was from Paris, he said. He was born there and moved here when he was three. His parents were from Guadeloupe. He’d been taking French school here. Spoke French at home. Or out in public if his mom didn’t want people to know what they were saying.
While we walked around the neighbourhood, he was talking to be about PSG. About Mbaape. Becoming animated. He blew it last game. Shots “Dans les arbes!”
Then he told me he was moving in one week to Montreal. He was sad. Nervous about making a new group of friends.
It was just he and his mom living together. And they were moving because it was too expensive in Toronto. Halfway through the last school year, their landlord had raised the rent by a lot in their appartment. But it was in the middle of the year, and he had tests, school projects, so his mom somehow figured out a way to get the money. For a few months. Then this summer they’d been staying at her friends house close by. But now his mom found an apartment for cheap in Montreal.
I asked him if he and his mom were close. He didn’t understand. Like do you talk about things? Of course.
As we were walking around the neighbourhood, he was pointing out poles that we could put posters on. He said he sees people walk by here in the mornings, so this would be a good spot. And he would check tomorrow to see if they fell. He could put them back up.
August 2, 2024
Ever give kids a microphone? Doesn’t even have to work. Doesn’t even have to be a microphone. You could just hold your hand in front of their face.
Please state your name.
They’re all of a sudden nervous. Can’t mess up when you have your big chance in front of the camera.
Danyum.
Danyum’s let his hair grow out. Or his mom had let it grow out. Afro flopping down on the sides. He’s all sweaty from running around.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Easy. Soccer player.
What are you 3 favourite fruits?
Watermelon, Mango, Peaches. He’s smiling. Seems happy with his answer.
Can you name a planet that begins with the letter E?
He’s thinking. Oh, Earth!
Damn, he got it.
By now the other kids have caught on. They’ve come over, they want to be interviewed. They start interviewing each other. I want to be a doctor. I like carrots. My birthday is June 21.
One of the kids asked a question about an insurance company, and we were all confused. Then he yelled Aflack!, and started laughing to himself.
Robel and Simone both said their favourite food was noodles with eggs. I was confused. But they seemed to agree, with some vegetables. I made a note to google it when I got him. Then they asked me. What was my favourite food?
–
The other day I was biking to my office, and there was a news crew on Bloor street. There was all this construction that was blocking the street. Was going to be that way for another week. So they were stopping people and interviewing them about it. As soon as they put the microphone in front of my face I got so nervous. My one leg was shaking. I didn’t want to be like everyone else just complaining about it.
I thought. Then I said, “I think everyone is too angry all the time. Cars, bikers, everyone.”
–
My friend who works for the city was explaining it the other day. Someone will propose to build more housing, new apartment units, or affordable housing in a neighbourhood. And then they’ll call a neighbourhood hearing. People can come and voice their thoughts, have a vote. So of course all the old rich people that live there don’t want them to build. But we do want them to build! He said. We need more housing. So there’s some organizations mobilizing young people to go to the hearings, show up and vote.
–
It seemed like everyone I spoke to, they were thinking the same things. I’d see it over and over. Young people. They were bored of Toronto. So much construction. The city was so unorganised. The new Subway line had been taking forever to build. There was no community here. No culture. No emphasis on the arts. You couldn’t survive as an artist. You couldn’t make it. People were always go, go, go. Focused on work. All these people living here complaining, not wanting to be here. So what happens then? When a city is abandoned by the people that live there?
–
Please state your name.
Robel.
And how’s your summer been?
Good.
What have you been doing.
Just fighting.
Him and Simone and Danyum were always fighting.
What did you think about the world cup?
England should’ve won.
Really?
Yea.
Who do you like? Saka?
Saka sucks.
Then he jumped up and ran to tackle Simone.
July 26, 2024
I ran into Mistica’s mom along Dundas. She was crossing the street, about to go into the FreshCo. She took a second to recognize me as I rolled up on my bike. I asked her how her summer’s been. She said good, she got something working part time. She spoke so quietly, just like Mistica. Then she told me the girls were in a summer camp, but they said it was boring. They missed K Club. I laughed, told her I’d be working again in September.
She kept looking up, worried that I was going to get hit standing on the side of the road. She told me that last year, after they moved here, they were in the after-school program for free. She wondered if this upcoming year she would have to pay.
I wasn’t the right person to ask. I told her to speak with so and so, she was the supervisor. She nodded. Then we smiled, said see you later, and I biked off.
June 21, 2024
It was hot. Heat warnings all throughout the week. I biked down to the Boys & Girls Club after work. There were people in parks. People waiting outside the shelter. When I got to the school, there was a man outside. No shoes. He was walking up and down the side street, yelling about something.
I locked my bike and the principal came outside.
“Excited for the summer?”
“You have no idea,” she exhaled. Then she told me that this morning, another man had tried to come into the playground. She had to run outside and push him away, then got all the kids inside the building.
Rick, the bus driver, was there smoking a cigarette. “You haven’t seen it all until you’ve moved to Toronto, I’ll tell you.”
—
Michelle was already upstairs. She was looking out the window, then turned when I walked in. “It’s drugs,” she said. “Just last week we were driving up Sherbourne and this woman, she looked fine, then she walked out into the middle of the street and pulled her pants down, started peeing. Just like that. All the cars had to stop. I normally would show my kids, so they know what’s out there. But I couldn’t bring myself to take a picture. Just her dignity, you know.”
I was nodding. Then the ball rang for the end of school.
—
We were going to Sky Zone for our end of year activity. I’d never been, but the kids were all excited about it. They came into the classroom and Michelle started handing out beef patties to take with us.
It was no use trying to get them to settle down when we got on the bus. Fikile was singing. River was already on the floor. We had to fill out online waivers for each of the kids, in case they died.
“Markan, what’s your birthday?”
“My nickname?”
“Your birthday!”
“Oh. 2015.”
“And?”
He was looking at me.
“The month.”
“October.”
“The day?”
“5th.”
“And how do you spell your last name?”
“W. A. S. S. I forget the rest.”
Ruby and Markan had the same last name. They were brother and sister.
So did Naod and Robel and Malat.
Brian and Brown had the same last name AND birthday.
Zachary was born on Valentines day.
Emmanuel was born on Christmas.
I definitely didn’t spell half their last names’ right, but what can you do.
If you haven’t been to Sky Zone, it’s basically giant warehouse with trampolines everywhere. They give you these orange socks with gippy stuff on the bottom. “Ok, we have an hour and a half. Everyone behave, because there’s other families here.” Then we let them lose.
Some things I remember, in no particular order:
– Jude trying to dunk a basketball but getting no air
– Jude blocking Jace while he tried to dunk, then both of them falling over
– Brown doing a flip
– Jeremy trying to do a flip and only getting half way around
– Brian trying to fight two little white girls on the balance beam above the foam pit
We got all of them to come to the dodgeball area, and we had a big game. I hit Jeremy with a headshot. The kids kept falling over. I snuck up behind Robel, lifted him up and threw him onto the trampoline, but his leg buckled as he fell. He grabbed it and started crying. Fuck. I thought he might’ve torn his ACL. But he was fine two minutes later.
It’s crazy how high you can get on a trampoline if you build momentum. It’s like you’re flying.
Afterward we were all sweaty. Jude and I were sitting beside each other.
“Do you have like a dream?” I asked. “What you wanna be when you grow up?”
“Not yet.”
“What’re the options?”
“Something in sports,” he said. “Football or basketball. Cuz they make bank.”
I nodded.
“You have to be pretty good though,” he added. “I just don’t want to be sitting on the phone all day.” He put his hand up to his face like a phone. “Hello, Nasdaq industries… I’d be so bored.”
“You know, my job is like that.”
“Really?”
“Yea.”
“Well as long as you’re making money.”
“You just said it’d be so boring.”
“It’s not me doing it!”
“So what do you think I should do? Quit?”
He shrugged.
“What should I do instead?”
“The only jobs that are cool are in sports.”
“What about art?”
“Art? Where they draw a dot on a piece of paper and then sell it for a million dollars. That happens, you know.”
“Yea.”
“Ok bro, this is getting weird.”
We both got up.
—
On the way home, Simone and Nobel were having a roast battle. “Your ears are so big, when you went to the zoo, an elephant said you had big ears!” It was so hot. The parents arrived at the end of the day. “Ok, bye! See you in three months.”
“Three months?” a mom asked.
“Yea, today’s the last day.”
“You’re not working at the summer camp?”
“Nope.”
“What will you do?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure. Probably sit around behind a desk, on the phone all day. Nasdaq industries.
I picked up all the balls that were left outside, then gave Michelle a hug. “Have a blessed summer,” she said. “And happy engagement.”
“We’ve only been dating four months!”
But she ignored me.
Then I hopped on my bike to go home.
June 14, 2024
Anaphylaxis: Delaying treatment could be fatal. Know what it is. Anaphylaxis is a severe, life threatening allergic reaction. It can be triggered by certain types of foods…
The following symptoms… Mouth, skin, throat.
Know what to do.
How to use EpiPen. Blue to the sky, orange to the thigh.
—
Wall of Gratitude
What are you grateful for?
I am grateful for animals. I’m grateful for my phone. I’m grateful for Mcdonald’s. We were kungfu FIGHTING. I’m grateful for my mom. I’m grateful for drawing doodles (doodles). I’m grateful for snapchat. I’m grateful for friends. I’m grateful for being alive. Wassup.
—
June 7, 2024
We decided to go to the park. Lined up, counted heads, then started walking up the street.
I told Brown to get off the street, and instead of listening to me, he began to explain that this wasn’t a street, it was a road. The difference? A street has lines. This has no lines. “Ok. So get off the road.”
Brown was in a good mood. He was in a new grade. Eight years old. Big man. Robel, on the other hand, was only seven and a half. Almost eight, but not quite Brown reiterated. Then we began discussing the best age. What age you needed to reach to be an adult. We settled on seventeen. “I can’t wait until I’m seventeen. I’m going to have my own place, and just chill. Eat some McDonald’s.”
We were only at the park for a few minutes before it started raining. Really coming down. Out of nowhere. We all ran under a structure by the playground. Huddled together. Michelle was so pissed. “Alright, we’re going back! Everybody, let’s go!”
Brown was standing in the rain, still holding a basketball. “What! We just got here!”
May 24, 2024
It was hot in the classroom. The kids were fanning themselves with paper.
On the way to the washroom, I put my arms out like an airplane and the kids mimicked me. One of them started yelling “twin towers, twin towers,” and then made a crash sound.
We ate popsicles before we went to the park.
A man with a ripped shirt walked into the schoolyard. He appeared to be looking for something on the ground, walking up and down the fence separating the playground from Queen Street.
Maya was walking with one shoe in her hand. She stepped in poop.
Brian fought another kid at the park.
Emmanuel said they had a project where they were supposed to take pictures of things that represented love. He pulled out the disposable camera.
“So what did you take a pictures of?” “Basketball.”
He took a picture of a court. Of his brother shooting a jump shot. Him spinning the ball on his finger.
“And love is also charity. So I had my brother dress in ripped clothes and pretend to be on the street begging for money.”
May 17, 2024
We were all tired. Gabby was asleep on the table. Michelle lost her voice giving out snack. One of the kids looked at me and pretended to throw a fake ball (that was one of my games), but I didn’t have the energy. My head hurt. For the first time all year, I started thinking about summer break.
—
Near the end of the day, one of their parents came inside. She was asking Michelle about where to send her oldest kid for the summer. If there were programs Michelle knew. So Michelle pulled up a couple websites on the computer.
“Does it cost money?” She asked. “Does that only go for one week?”
I could tell Michelle was tired, but she made a few phone calls.
“Roger. It’s Michelle. How you doing? Are you still running that summer camp over at—I have so and so’s mom here, and she’s looking for some information. So, uh, do you have any information you wana let go?”
I was trying not to laugh.
—
I saw it other times. Parents asking about more programming. Where to send their kids during the summer. There were a couple kids who went to another program after K Club, in the basement of the church. An after-after school program. “Your parents must really not want you home.”
Michelle and I would direct them to websites. We’d print things off and give it to them. “The deadline to apply is this week!”
—
“How old is your son?”
“Twelve…” the woman said. “But he looks like he’s fourteen.”
“He’s twelve,” Michelle repeated into the phone. “But he’s big. Size twelve shoes. Ok, ok.” She hung up. “He says they’re all full, but if you go up to Dundas tomorrow, he’ll see what he can do.”
May 10, 2024
School had just ended so the kids were outside on the playground. They were crowded around the basketball court. When I got there, Emmanuel ran over and explained the four best basketball players in the school were playing a game of two on two. Grade eights. Everyone was watching.
They took turns walking the ball up, shooting from half court. Doing “too small” signal. While Emmanuel told me their strengths and weaknesses as players. Where they were going to high school next year. Everything.
You forget how much kids idolize people just a year older.
April 26, 2024
Fortuna. Pink, bubbly letters. Hearts and polka dots all over the page.
Naod. All Caps, written in a diagonal. A sun. Rays of sunlight. An ice cream cone?
Myron. Clouds. Grass. Every letter in his name is a different colour.
Danyom. It looks like he wasn’t sure how to spell his own name. Blue marker scratched across the page. Like he was holding it and pressing as hard as he could, going over the edge of the paper and onto the table. And there’s no way he cleaned it up.
Kamari. A video game controller. A basketball. Several scoops of ice cream. Letters in blue and orange. His page is barely holding on to the wall.
Essey.
Aizen.
Lulia.
Jude. The D is all coloured in. Diamonds above his name. 2K. GTA. A basketball. FIFA FC. A Video game controller.
Slay Seli (that’s Selimon). Lots of colours. She’s artistic. The letters look like furry animals, all perfectly shaped. There’s rainbows in all four corners.
Elijah. It’s scary. Green and purple dripping down the page, like slime.
April 19, 2024
“What’s for snack?”
Michelle peeled off the tinfoil and looked at me. “Veggie Hamburgers.”
“What?” One of the kids yelled.
“Hamburgers. Regular hamburgers,” I said.
But when we handed them out the kids could tell. River was breaking pieces off and smelling it. Rosy took one bite and said she didn’t want to eat it. Makeda kept asking form more ketchup to drown out the taste.
I looked over and Michelle was shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the world, Glen.”
April 12, 204
I was on my way to K Club, and this old Jamaican man walked up beside me. He had a handful of cigarettes in his hand. Looked like he was on his way to the shelter. “Look at the kids,” he said, then turned to me. He only had one tooth. “Look at the kids,” he repeated. They were playing outside on the playground. “Makes you feel good, doesn’t it?” and he smiled.
–
I walked into the room and Michelle was setting up. Her arm was still in a sling from her fall, so she was trying to write on the board with her left hand. She asked me what I was eating.
“Trail mix. Want some?”
“No thanks,” she laughed. “That’s why you look the way you do.” Then she told me she was planning a trip back to Jamaica. She wanted to lose weight before she went. But her problem was that she couldn’t say no to a treat.
–
I’m ashamed to say it, but it was my idea. We decided to make ice cream sundaes. “No, it’s not ice cream you eat on Sundays.” I could tell they already had too much energy before we started.
More chocolate sauce. Sprinkles right into their mouths. So much whipped cream you couldn’t see the bowl. The kids sat there making their sundae’s until the ice cream turned to soup.
I could see some of their stomach’s starting to hurt. The sugar rushing to their heads. But they were trying to fight through it. Need to eat more ice cream.
“Glen, are you going to offer me some!”
“You said you wanted to lose weight!”
“I said I wanted to! Not that I was actually doing it.” And Michelle grabbed a cone.
–
We were in the gym afterward. A three-on-three basketball game on one end. People hitting a badminton birdie. Several kids had their shoes off, chasing each other. Kids were hitting each other with those big bosu balls. Everyone was screaming. I turned to Michelle. “We’re never doing this again.”
–
There is this feeling I have at the end of the day. After all the kids have finally been picked up, and the building is empty. I’m drained. Hours of questions, and crying, and screaming, and running, and sliding across the flour. I’m exhausted. But I feel lighter, in a way. Whole.
April 5, 2024
We made eye contact through a sea of heads. It felt like she was waiting for me to see her. She narrowed her eyes, and stared at me with great intensity. I did the same. Then she clenched her teeth like she was about to lift something really heavy, opening her eyes wide.
I bit down and made a scowl.
The girl opened her mouth wide, like a roar, her upper teeth sticking out like fangs and she shifted her jaw side to side.
I puffed my cheeks and moved the air back and forth, my eyes as wide as I could make them.
The two of us were staring at each other, distorting our faces, going back and forth when Michelle walked by. “What the hell are you doing?”
March 29, 2024
Sometimes we’d watch a movie. We’d push all the tables to the side, put the blinds down and turn off the light. Some of the older kids would sit in chairs, but the little ones would slide down on the ground, poking their heads in front of the projector, making shapes with their hands.
“Alright, we’re gonna treat this like a movie theater,” I said. “The same rules as if you were in a theater. Everyone understand?”
One of the kids raised their hand. “So no talking.”
“That’s right.”
Another kid turned and put their hand up. “And no poking your neighbour.”
“Yes, that too.”
“No turning around and making silly faces.”
“No throwing popcorn.”
The kids were shouting things out.
“No making voices.”
“No– No standing up and pulling your pants down in front of the screen.”
Laughter.
“No swearing!”
“No unplugging the chord.”
“No squeezing the chord.”
“No spilling your water.”
“No taking a book from the cupboard.”
“No taking a book from the cupboard and smacking it against the wall.”
“Ok, we get it.”
March 22, 2024
It snowed. Out of nowhere. The first time in a long time.
There was a crossing guard. This old man, overweight. When I reached Queen street he was hiding in the entrance under one of the apartments. Just blowing his whistle any time a kid was at the crosswalk.
I entered the building and one of the kids from K Club was seated in the office. We made eye contact and he shook his head. Then I went upstairs to the second floor.
There was an announcement on the PA system. “Can I have your attention. This message is for all the kids in K Club. Because of the weather, you won’t be going outside. You can go straight to the room.” And then two seconds later, before I could even put my bag down, the kids ran into the room.
—
We were usually in trouble if we couldn’t go outside. They had too much energy. I took attendance, then started handing out pizza pockets while the boys were yelling back and forth across the room. “Robel has the skinniest legs! Looking like a grandpa.” Brown had two different coloured gloves on. Eliana was making one of her weird faces at me.
“Nice to see you.”
“Nice not to see you,” she replied.
I was just about to take a bite of my pizza pocket when there was a commotion at the back of the room. Kids were crowding around. Brian and Simone were locked arm in arm, staring at each other .
“Simone’s mad!” Someone yelled.
“Brian chocked him!”
When I pulled them apart, I could see Simone was crying. So I took him outside to sit in the stairwell.
He had to catch his breath. Snot was coming out of his nose. I asked him to tell me what happened, then I slowly changed the subject. Asked him about his swimming lessons.
They were cancelled today because of the snow, but he’d still been going. It was fun. He could see himself getting better. When he finally calmed down we went back in the room.
—
I decided to ask the kids a favour. “Hey! Can you guys do me a favour?” They were half listening. “Guys! It’s my girlfriend’s birthday today.”
“What!”
“You have a girlfriend?”
“What’s her name?”
“How old is she?”
I realized it might have been a mistake. They kept asking me if we were going to get married. If we’d had our first kiss. “You can do it here, at K Club. Or you can just hug if you want!” But at least they were paying attention.
I asked if they would sing happy birthday to her. I took out my phone out, and counted down. “In three, two…” then they all burst out, yelling as loud as they could.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you!” They stood up, screaming, jumping up in front of the camera. “Happy birthday dear-“ then one of them smacked the phone out of my hand.
March 15, 2024
I made the mistake of telling Brown that I’d give him a piggy back. “Later.” And the rest of the afternoon he was following me around, asking me when, trying to jump up when I wasn’t paying attention. “You promised!”
March 8, 2024
I was sitting on the bench with Daniel, waiting for his mom to pick him up. It was his birthday coming up – he was turning nine – so he was excited. He was having a party this weekend.
I asked him what he thought the best age was. He started thinking. He said maybe eleven or twelve (those were the ages of the oldest kids at school).
“What about thirteen?”
“Yea, thirteen too.”
Then I asked him, what if you were turning, say, 30? Would that feel really old?
He said no. That still seemed young.
“What would you do if you were 30?”
He thought. He said he’d probably play with his kids.
I didn’t want to remind him that I was turning 30 and didn’t have any kids.
“What if you had money? You could do whatever.”
He thought some more. “I’d buy whatever my kids wanted.”
He kept getting up and poking his head out the door, looking for his mom’s car. I was tired.
Daniel said his mom had a problem with her foot. It happened in Covid, but even though Covid was over, she still had the problem. She could only really walk around the block. So they mostly played games together.
The car finally arrived.
As Daniel was leaving, he turned and asked, “does my mom know your mom?”
“What? Why?” I was confused.
“Because I want to invite you to my birthday.”