I Should Have Painted My Toenails For My Volunteering

I remember my first full-time job out of college. Switching from a pre-employment teacher for at-risk teens to a grant writer for the same non-profit organization, I had a lot to learn. High fives morphed into handshakes, pants now required a blazer with matching socks, and instead of mastering teenage street slang, marketing jargon infiltrated my vocabulary. As with my students, I had to be on high alert: One day a photographer from a national organization might need an escort to take pictures of the youth businesses while the next day a community investment team from Bank of America could decide to check in on the accuracy of the organization’s outcome reporting, in-person. On other days, trapped at my desk, I would type success stories and reports for hours on end, daydreaming of slippers and sweatpants.

Each morning I would watch in amusement as one of my bosses arrived, hopping out of her car dressed in brown boots, a hipster skirt, and kitschy earrings. This staff member was ready to teach, relate, and engage with her teenage students. Why couldn’t I be more like that once again? As a main program supervisor, her job also required upper management meetings and tours with funders. Yet, with a closer glance into her car, a pantsuit hung in the backseat.

“Always be ready for anything. Today could be the most important, surprise meeting of your life. You never know what role you will need to play but be ready to have fun and also impress,” she said.



Sometimes you have to be prepared to meet Darth Vader, even at the Florida Children's Hospital.

So last week as I found myself standing barefoot on a pile of cold sand in a classroom with five youth at the Seminole County Sheriff’s Office with my toes looking like a hot mess—unkempt and without the usual sparkling polish—I remembered my boss and her pantsuit. I had arrived to volunteer with The Literary Alliance in my typical uniform: jeans, glittery shoes, and my L.A. polo, but I was not prepared for the day’s beach shoot. My ugly feet were going to be on YouTube.  

“Ugh, I wish I painted my toenails today,” I jokingly grumbled as I pulled off my shoes in disbelief at the scene before me. 

My jagged-mountain shaped toenails were stained red from their Christmas-time appearance. Blisters proved I had run quite a few miles that week. Lets face it: These bad boys screamed, “Ewwwwww!!!” What were the chances this small embarrassment could be happening to me? Volunteering with the creative and determined President of The Literacy Alliance, Diane, the odds were not forever in my favor. I should have known. How did I get here?

Bringing the beach to the inner-city, Literacy Alliance style.

The Eugene Gregory students—teenagers who have been removed from the traditional school system due to expulsion, suspension, or who are on conditional release or probation—gather every Friday afternoon in the Sheriff’s Office conference room to create video puppet shows. Sometimes the teens perform previously written stories such as those by author Jan Thomas. More recently, we’ve added a writing component where students create their own stories, paint the backdrop, and pick the puppets they wish to use. The Friday before our barefoot filming, students wrote a Valentine’s Day themed script with the goal to teach young viewers the meaning of word play. Using the letters in ‘Valentines,’ the two main characters, Danielle and Josh, would bend over on their beach walk and write smaller words in the sand. The students surmised that we would provide an ocean backdrop and use cardboard letters to provide the illusion of drawing in the sand.  The skit would consist of puppet people with a few animals.

After reading over Eugene’s script, Diane had bigger, more impressive plans. Upon arriving at Eugene the following Friday to film the story, she took a few volunteers out to her car. Touting recycled cat litter tubs piled high with real beach sand, we stared in disbelief. Throwing down a towel and shower curtain on the carpet, students made a sand pile against the wall to recreate the beach. (Thankfully, we spotted a vacuum cleaner in the corner.) Diane also gave the students the option to use people puppets or real feet. Feet trumped puppets. As the only girl that day—the students’ attendance varies based on behavior or placement back into school—I, well my feet, had to perform. Off came the shoes. Out came the disgraceful toenails. If the teen next to me could do it in front of his cool friends, I could too.

The set of Valentine's Word Day by the Eugene Gregory students.

We successfully shot an extremely adorable video, Valentine's Word Day. As we wrapped up the final scene, I looked around at the students' smiles. I just had to laugh at the ridiculousness and fun of it all. Here I was standing in a room in the middle of the Sanford Sheriff’s Office, barefoot on sand with students who may have not initially made the best life choices. We were all enjoying our task, working hard, and learning from each other. All of this was for the better good of promoting literacy and improving people’s lives. When I got home, I wanted to tell everyone about my afternoon.

I love volunteering with the Eugene students. I love the synergy that comes from everyone’s ideas, even if that means that sometimes my shoes have to come off and I have to let down my guard. More importantly, I am inspired by the dedication of everyone involved; people so committed to programming that they would think to borrow sand from a neighbor to bring to life these teens’ imaginations. I am inspired by students so dedicated to the program that regardless of tough guy (and sometimes gal) street appearance, they are willing to caw like birds and talk in funny voices in order to provide educational entertainment on YouTube. I am inspired by the teachers who work with them every day, permitting these students second and third chances. 

The greater lesson is not that I need to keep a bottle of nail polish in the back seat of my car—although I will not lie, I painted my toenails that very night—or that you need to know which one of your neighbors has spare sand lying around the yard. OK, maybe that helps. However, the pantsuit I carry with me at all times is an open mind and heart, a friendly smile, and passion. In the role of teacher, mentor, and volunteer, those are the skills that I wish to impress with. Just like my grant-writing job, every time I volunteer, I never know what to expect. But I’m ready because I carry with me a very stretchy, multi-colored pantsuit.

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