I really like young people. I like their faces, their vigor, their belief that they know everything except who wants to be. I have fun the contempt they sometimes suffer from adults who see in them a living reflection of what they could have been, of what they were not, nor are they, nor will they be because it always seems too late to try to go back and recover the spirit of youth. I really like young people because, some of them will dedicate their vacations to voluntarily care for the children of others.
(With this I want to emphasize that I am going to put aside to take care of their grandchildren throughout the year. I do not get angry. I continue)
I want to talk about the monitors of some summer camps that will voluntarily pass, one or two weeks entertaining and educating children of all ages and, all this, without charging a euro.
They will schedule the socio -educational activities and objectives, request the permits, make the purchase, load the truck with the structures and the tents, they will assemble the camp, they will pick up the kids, they will go on a route for several days while the little ones – and not so small – will cry and walk because no one taught them before what was to achieve a long -term goal. They will deal with belly pain and night terrors. They will help in an elderly residence or in an association. They will remove ticks with vaseline, they will hear intimacies, clean latrines, make fire, will roller with another monitor, play beso-placare, They will sing to the moon, They will turn off the fire. They will dance the King-Kong. They will become adults being children when scolding saying that “you have disappointed me.” They will sleep little and spend the nights talking under a gas lamp. They will remove the plug from the river. They will dismantle the camp, they will leave the kids with their parents, their vacation will end. And, all this, without charging a euro.
These young people, who have difficulties to, to study, who are the ones who suffer the most and those who have to deal with the manosphere And the rise of violence in the classroom is also those who endure when we call them “the generation of glass”, when we tell them that “they live glued to the mobile” and those who will go this summer as volunteers to the camps.
We envy them and we are superb before their superb because no one can be more superb than an adult who believes that the world is his. How lucky to have them, how lucky to see their face, their vigor, their not knowing what they will be. How lucky they want to take care of our children.
Good hunting and long moons for all of them.
