Big brothers, not just big sisters

Every Saturday morning, I catch the subway and a bus. My destination is a modest apartment on 143rd Street, and my partners in the day’s enjoyment are Rafael and Ivan, ages 10 and eight, my “little brothers” through the Columbia Big SIBS program. My bus rolls lazily downhill past churches, pharmacies, and dollar stores, and I plan our afternoon: we could visit the Natural History Museum; we could tour Columbia; we could watch a movie. We could even do our best to cook lunch. Most often, I realize that winter is fast approaching and we need to spend our time outside while we can.

There’s a park with no indication of a name on Lenox Avenue by the bridge to the Bronx, and on its decomposing softball fields I zealously develop the boys into the world’s greatest baseball players. By this, I mean that I throw them some looping pitches forbatting practice and talk to them about Pokémon, Disney, school, their old life in the Dominican Republic, or particularly interesting rocks. We head home around three, careful to wash our shoes off before stepping onto the apartment’s pristine linoleum.

To explain Big SIBS a little more clearly, the organization is modeled after the national Big Brothers Big Sisters program. Columbia mentors spend three to five hours per week with a local child between six and 12 years old. The group takes one planned monthly outing with all of its members, but that’s it for structure. It’s up to mentors to decide when to meet, where to meet, and what to do with their young charges. There’s no edict to teach math or reading or to tutor—fun seems to be the immediate goal.

However, the program’s objectives reach decidedly higher. Intimidated at first, I’ve come to see this lack of direction as crucial for both the children and the Columbians. The interaction gains authenticity through its dissociation from meticulous planning and academic context. The relationship isn’t teaching, isn’t tutoring, isn’t parenting­—it just is, and that’s exactly how many of a child’s or student’s most important relationships will be structured for the rest of his life. While much has been made of inner-city children’s need for academic assistance, their need to develop social skills without the scaffolding of a school or family environment is just as important.

Anyone who has experienced a Columbia elevator ride will also know that the importance of social skills doesn’t just extend to inner-city kids—we need help too. The boys consistently teach me about openness and friendliness, and reminding myself of the child’s surprisingly mature perception that “everyone is a friend” helps me in social situations far beyond the little park.

Thus we can probably agree that this relationship helps and matters. But for the boys of the neighborhood, the opportunity to develop it is rare: the ratio of male to female volunteers in Big SIBS and other youth programs is startlingly low. Why don’t men join? In my case, the thought process behind joining Big SIBS was embarrassingly simple. I am neither a self-sacrificing do-gooder nor a guilty missionary desperate to soothe my conscience; I was simply accustomed to working with children after a few summers at a YMCA camp.

But most of us didn’t stumble into a summer camp job, and many associated with the program seek to understand why the typical Columbia man is not interested in mentorship. For many, the reason is simply a busy schedule, but that explanation doesn’t cover everyone. In speculating about the remaining candidates’ hesitance, many offer suggestions based on gender stereotypes: men are selfish; men don’t like children; men don’t have a nurturing instinct. I propose a different argument: modern young men have few opportunities to hone and develop confidence in their ability to interact with children.

A quick count of friends who ever had a male babysitter or were left home alone with an older brother in charge will confirm it—young males caring for kids are rare. In a culture increasingly confronted with images of teenage men as irresponsible at best, and predatory at worst, parents and day care institutions often give responsibility to women alone.

This does not mean, however, that men are helpless victims of a conspiracy of society and women. Once we graduate into adulthood from the adolescent world of babysitting and sibling care, the need for men skilled with children suddenly emerges: roles as teachers, tutors, and fathers. Regardless of previous circumstances, it is up to men to pursue the experiences necessary to excel in these roles. Thus the argument that one has no experience with kids falls flat. Men should work with kids because they have no experience—and boys, we need it.

The author is a Columbia College sophomore. He is a member of Big SIBS, a Community Impact program.