Chicken Soup for the Kid’s Soul (20 page)
Read Chicken Soup for the Kid’s Soul Online
Authors: Jack Canfield
I
f you don’t like the way the world is, you change it. You have an obligation to change it. You just do it one step at a time.
Marian Wright Edelman
One night when I was in second grade, I saw something on the news that really bothered me. It was about a group of homeless people sleeping outside in the cold, with nowhere to go for warmth and comfort. I felt sorry for them, and I wanted to help.
So I decided to start a club. The goal was to raise money to help the homeless. I called it the Rock Club. When I first started, we only had about five members, but that quickly grew to about twenty. It wasn’t hard to get people to join the club. I hardly had to ask anybody if they wanted to be a member. In fact, they came up to me and just asked me if they could join!
We spent all of our free time at recess painting rocks. We painted animals, flowers and shapes—even names of sports teams. We all just worked on whatever we felt like painting.
We’d go around the school in search of teachers who would buy our rocks and use them as paperweights. We sold the rocks for five cents, ten cents and even up to twenty cents each. We painted one huge rock with polka dots that sold for five bucks! By Christmas, we had raised thirty-three dollars. We decided to give the money to a local homeless shelter.
My mom offered to take my friend and me to the shelter to deliver the money. When we pulled up, we noticed that there were whole families sitting on the snowy sidewalk. As we went into the building, I could not get the picture of what I had just seen out of my mind. I kept thinking about the little children, and all of the men and women with nowhere to sleep.
When we got inside, we met the lady at the front desk and gave her the money that the club had earned. She seemed really grateful for our donation. She invited us to take a tour of the shelter. I had never seen a real homeless shelter before, so I wanted to see the inside. As we toured the building, what really got to me were the rows and rows of tables set up to help feed the hungry. There must have been over one hundred tables in there. In the kitchen, the helpers were making what seemed like endless rows of gingerbread men. It was amazing to me that for every gingerbread man, the shelter was expecting a person in need for dinner and shelter that night.
As we were leaving the homeless shelter, I saw a man sitting on the snow-covered pavement. He was wearing a dirty, dark green coat and black pants that were covered in mud. He was clutching to his side a Christmas tree covered with red ornaments. I felt so sorry for him because he had nowhere else to put a tree except the streets where he lived. It made me realize that even someone with no home, or money for presents, still wanted to have a Christmas.
The next day, there was a picture of that same man in the newspaper. I knew his image would stay with me forever. I hoped that his picture also reminded others about how much help the homeless people need, and that we should remember them all year—not only at Christmas.
A few days later, a newspaper reporter and a photographer came to our school and took a picture of our Rock Club members. The photo and article came out in the paper the next day. We all felt proud that we had done something that gave more attention to the needs of the homeless in our town.
Our school decided that what we did was really great, so they started a program just for kids. Now kids at our school are helping the homeless shelter and other organizations that help people in need.
Something as simple as some rocks, some paint and a few caring kids made me realize that you’re never too young—and you don’t need much—to make a difference.
Vanessa Clayton, age 14
“Mom, Kerry just crawled through the plans for my invention, and her leg brace ripped it up!” shouted Jessica.
“You know you can’t spread out your work on the floor when she’s around,” said her mother. “Just be thankful she can crawl at all.”
I’m so tired of hearing about poor little Kerry. What about me?
thought Jessica.
Then, sighing, she said, “Yeah, right.”
Yesterday, Jessica had brought home an announcement for the Invention Convention at her school. The kids in her fourth-grade class were asked to invent a useful item, make a prototype, and show how it worked. “This convention is really going to be cool,” she told her mother. “The only trouble is, I want to help someone solve a real problem, but I can’t think of anything good.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” said her mom.
“Kerry, stop!” yelled Jessica as Kerry kicked Jessica’s homework around. “Mom!” she implored, but her mother just shrugged, sighed, and went back to the dishes.
Kerry, Jessica’s sister had heart trouble. Just after she was born, Kerry’s heart rate had raced out of control. The doctors were able to slow down her heart with medication, but not before it caused her to lose some of the use of the left side of her body. Still, she learned to crawl almost as soon as any baby would, and her weak leg didn’t stop her from being a normal pesky little sister. To Jessica it felt like Kerry, and her other little sister Katie, spent all day thinking up ways to bug her when she got home from school.
Suddenly, Kerry plopped herself down on the floor and started crying. She pulled at the brace on her leg. “Booboo,” she whimpered. Her sock had fallen down again and the brace had rubbed a large raw patch on her calf.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” said Mom, scooping up the baby in her arms. “Look at her leg. I hate to keep her in tights when it’s so warm.”
“That’s it!” Jessica exclaimed. “I know what I’m doing for the Invention Convention!”
“What?”
“Let me work on it for a while and I’ll show you.” She rushed upstairs, collected a few things from her mother’s room and something from her sisters’ room, and then locked herself in her own room to work undisturbed.
When she finally emerged two hours later, she was clutching what seemed like a jumble of socks. “Hey, Mom, look at this. I made a special sock for Kerry.” Jessica held it up and pointed. “See, it has these Velcro straps on the top that hook around the top of her leg brace and then reattach to her sock. That way the socks can’t fall down and Kerry’s leg is protected.”
“What a wonderful idea! Let’s try them on her,” said Mom. “Look, Kerry, Jessica made some new socks for you.” Katie clapped as she jumped up and down. Kerry smiled, and thumped her hand against the floor as her mother put the new sock on under her brace.
The next day, Jessica brought her invention to school. When she got home, Kerry and Katie greeted her at the front door, chattering noisily. They hugged her legs and pulled at her. Jessica lost her balance and they all fell to the floor in a heap, laughing and tickling each other.
“How was the Invention Convention Jessica?” asked her mother. “Were the kids and your teacher impressed with your socks?”
“It was okay, I guess. My invention wasn’t as cool as Jane’s thing that organized her video games, or Nicole’s contraption that opened a soda without breaking a nail, or Sandy’s Band-Aid dispenser.”
“Those things are really interesting, but I like your idea better—it’s more helpful,” her mom replied.
“Yeah. I wanted to do something for a real person who needed help.” Jessica said as she tweaked Kerry on the nose. “Well, almost a real person.” They all laughed.
Jessica’s socks won first prize in her fourth-grade class. After winning a district-wide competition, she represented her town in the state-level convention at the Garden State Arts Center.
“What an honor! What an accomplishment!” everyone said to her.
Yes, Jessica won the contest, and she was proud; but what really made her feel warm inside was when Kerry looked up at her with a smile that said it all. That’s when she knew she’d won something truly important—a special place in her little sister’s heart.
Barbara McCutcheon Crawford
P
erseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Not many people have been seated next to Miss America at a dinner, run with the Olympic torch, received an award from First Lady Hillary Clinton or had an article published about them in
People
magazine. But that’s exactly what has happened to me, just a regular kid. Once I read the article about Stan, I became a “take action” kind of kid.
I probably ought to begin with proper introductions and credits. One day, while reading the paper, my mom came across an article about a man named Stan Curtis. Stan had come up with an idea to feed the hungry at no cost. His plan was to give leftover food from places like restaurants, hospitals and fund-raising dinners to places like soup kitchens and homeless shelters. He started an organization called Harvest to help him with the idea. Mom thought I’d find the article interesting and passed it along to me.
After reading it, I thought about what a good idea it was to do something useful with leftover food. It made sense and was such a simple, logical idea. At the time, I had been thinking about how to fulfill my bar mitzvah project, which, as part of my Jewish religion, required that I show responsibility to my community. Bingo!
This might be just what I’ve been looking for,
I thought. I decided to become a volunteer at the local chapter of Harvest.
What I found out when I arrived at Harvest is that the volunteers don’t actually feed the hungry. They deliver leftover food to the shelters and kitchens. If I wanted to become a volunteer, I would have to drive.
Uhhh, hello! I’m only in the sixth grade!
I had hit my first big problem, but I quickly came up with a solution. I volunteered my parents!
They were actually very cool about it and agreed to drive. I’d mostly lift boxes and stuff like that. Becoming a volunteer who helped to get food to hungry people made me feel really good about myself. I was thinking of other places that could donate food when the idea hit me.
I bet I could get my school to donate the leftover food from the cafeteria.
The next day, I saw my school principal on campus. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to just ask him if our cafeteria could donate leftover food to the Harvest organization. The principal said that he liked the idea but that there were all kinds of legal problems and complications involved with a project like that. “Besides,” he said, “I don’t have the authority to start such a program.”
Fine,
I thought.
I’ll go to your boss and ask him.
Mom explained that the principal’s boss was actually a group of people who made up the school board. “It would be best to start by writing letters,” she advised me. So I wrote to them and asked if they would allow the cafeteria at my school to give their leftover food (like milk in containers and other untouched food) to the Harvest organization. I included a packet of information about Harvest with each letter. I gave the board members a week to think about it, and then I called and talked to them about what I wanted to do. I had no idea how important these people were. I just knew that I wanted them to say yes, and that meant getting them to listen to me.
Most of them told me that they liked the idea, but that I would need to come before the board at their next meeting and propose the idea in person. So, to prepare for my big presentation, I went ahead of time to check out the room. I was blown away! There were TV cameras, big lights, microphones—totally high-tech looking stuff. It looked like a courtroom that I’d seen on TV. I was impressed. Totally psyched, I rushed home to practice my speech. I was kind of nervous, but I knew that if I really put my heart into it, they wouldn’t be able to turn me down.
At last, the big meeting came. I had practiced so much that I was relaxed. I spoke to the board the way I would talk to my parents. My closing line was, “Today is my twelfth birthday, and saying yes would be the best present that you could give me.” The audience in the room stood up and clapped for a long time. It seemed like forever as the board quietly discussed my proposal. Finally, the chairman announced that the board would approve my request. Since the board represented all the schools in the district, their approval was for 92 of the 155 schools that they represented (some didn’t have their own cafeteria).
Ninety-two schools!
After the meeting, it was explained to me that even though the board approved the plan, it could take up to a year to see the program actually begin. They would most likely need to take care of a lot of details and “red tape.” I had no idea what “red tape” meant, but I soon learned that it was when things got sort of tied up or tangled up in the process of getting something done.
The health department wanted the schools to pack food in airtight containers, and neither the school district nor Harvest had any money to pay for them. I thought,
No problem. I’ll get people to donate them.
So I wrote letters to supermarkets and companies that make containers and plastic bags, and all but one made a donation. It turned out that that wasn’t enough. I was about to try something else when I received a letter from Glad-Lock. The letter was two sentences long: “We appreciate your letter. Your shipment will be arriving in the next couple of days.”
“Shipment?” my mom questioned, her eyebrows raised to their limit. “What do they mean by
shipment?
”
Her question was answered only a few hours later when a UPS truck pulled up in front of our house and the driver delivered not one, not two, but eight cases of containers.
Now that we had containers, I thought that things would finally begin to happen. I contacted the school board again, and was surprised to find out that they thought the program had already started.
Wrong!
I realized then that if you want something done, even though people say that they’re handling it, you have to stay involved and on top of things until it really does happen.
Finally, the first donation of leftover food from my school was delivered to a shelter, and my mom and I were asked to make the delivery. What I thought would take about three weeks ended up taking almost a year to accomplish. But the program was finally up and running— two days before my thirteenth birthday!
A few weeks later, my bar mitzvah took place. Instead of gifts, I asked that people make donations to the Harvest Organization. Over five hundred pounds of food were donated in my name. A family friend, who had just started college and was not able to afford a gift, volunteered time at a shelter in my honor. It was a really original gift that helped a lot of people in need.
Through my work with Harvest, I had the opportunity to sit next to Miss America one night at a fund-raising dinner. I decided that inviting Miss America to my bar mitzvah would be a fun thing to do. Even though she wasn’t able to come to the party, she actually sent a gift and left a message for me on our answering machine. I popped that tape right out of the machine and played it for all my friends when they came over. I’d tease them by asking, “Did Miss America ever call you? I don’t think so!”
After the success of the school program, I received a call from a local disk jockey who suggested, as he interviewed me, that I take my idea all around the state. I thought,
Why not?
So far, all I really had to do was make phone calls, write some letters and give a speech or two, and I had seen some amazing results. So I got in touch with one of our local politicians and went to work once again. I had to write a bill for the House of Representatives to vote on, because the law needed to be changed in order for the program to be started statewide. My sister had taken government classes in school, so she helped me. I wanted the bill to encourage restaurants, schools and other places that serve food to donate their leftovers to organizations like Harvest. Too much food was ending up in Dumpsters.
Although the House of Representatives passed the bill, we are still waiting for it to be voted on by the state senate. We’re halfway there. It’s just a matter of time.
I think back on the day when my principal told me that he couldn’t make the project happen. If I had let it go at that, I would have never come this far. I taught myself that you don’t have to be an adult to make a difference. Actually, I think that being a kid can be an advantage. I think that I was more likely to believe that this could work because I hadn’t experienced very many failures in life. I just expected that things would happen if I stayed focused. I learned to just start at the bottom and work my way up until the answer was yes.
I believe so strongly that you should
just ask
that while receiving an award at the White House, I took the opportunity to ask First Lady Hillary Clinton what she does with her leftovers. I can only imagine what I’d have to do to get the White House on the list of donors. Talk about red tape!
David Levitt, age 16
[EDITORS’ NOTE:
If you would like more information on how to start a program at your school, call 1-800-USA 4 FOOD.]
