This summer, I have been volunteering in various capacities, but one in particular deserves a special mention.
Gathered at this government-subsidised housing complex are children of all ages, ranging from kindergarten to seventh grade. Most of the children are of African descent, many of whom are refugees from war zones. No, I’m not with Médecins Sans Frontières. No, I’m not in a developing country. I am somewhere in the Greater Vancouver Regional District, at an African children’s summer camp.
This camp is no CEDAR or GEERing UP. Situated within a low-income, disadvantaged area and inside the confines of a two-room apartment, which has been modified to suit the needs of the programme, up to 20 children laugh, cry, and play together with the support of two paid staff members.
A large bookshelf sits near the doorway with a wide collection of reading materials tightly placed together. Sitting at the very top of the shelf is a heavy book, one which catches my eye and brings back the nostalgia of high school. I recall using this a-thousand-some page textbook for Biology 11. Waking it from hibernation, I bring the book to two of my friends, who are beginning and nearly finishing their elementary school careers, respectively.
“Let me show you something cool. Do you want to learn about the brain?” I ask.
We flip to the chapter on the nervous system and I begin to tell them, in very simplified terms, about different parts and functions of the brain. They are intrigued by the drawings of neurons and the nervous system and would point at every single figure, followed by asking what it is. I tell them that the human brain is the most amazing, and my favourite, organ, that the back of the brain (occipital lobe) allows us to see, that the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body.
“There, now that you have learned all this knowledge, you are truly a scientist!” I tell them. Indeed, moments later, I overhear these budding scientists lecturing their friends on the brain.
