A is for Afterschool.

When I was in grade school the after-school program was called Latchkey. I have vague recollections of my mother volunteering once in a while. (Mom, is this true?) Latchkey, as I remember it, was glorified babysitting. Children whose parents couldn't get there on time counted on there being an adult to keep them from dying. There was a for-sale snack part, and then there was the playground. Back then the playground was awesome. There was a huge slide that felt dangerous (probably because it was.) At some point someone broke their leg on the slide and then they replaced it with a slower, dumber slide. (Again, Mom, is this true, or are all of my memories lies?)

The most vivid memory I have from Latchkey is one day when my mother didn't show up to pick me up after school. (I'm sure Katie was there too, I have no memory of her.) I went to Latchkey. But instead of acting like a normal eager-to-play, lets-get-a-snack-kid, I panicked. My mother didn't work, what on earth could she be doing that would keep her from picking me up?!! Obviously, she's dead. Something happened on her way to get me, and she's died. It's my fault. I am dumb and needed a ride home and I've killed my mother.

(Side note, as an adult this is still how my brain works, if Tommy doesn't answer his phone or text me back quick enough, I tend to panic. I've called his school, I've checked the news for school shootings. I've debated driving an hour and a half to make sure he made it to a conference alive. I'm in therapy working on this issue. But that subject is for another day.)

Back to the story. Hours had gone by. (Again, to child-Annie it was hours, it was probably 30 minutes.) I couldn't focus on anything except where was my mother? WHERE?! DO I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE?! WHY IS NO ONE ELSE WORRIED?!! One of my friends became worried about me and bought me a Kit-Kat for snack because of course I had no money, I was supposed to be PICKED-UP. (This is one memory I am 100% sure of, I remember that Kit-Kat.)

When my mother eventually arrived I cried literal tears of joy. She was alive! I wasn't destined to live in Latchkey forever! And when she told me that she had gotten stuck on her way to get me (us? Where is Katie?) because she was talking to a neighbor I was not exactly thrilled. I was left to suffer because my mother didn't want to be rude.

As a child, being a Latchkey-Kid wasn't the title anyone wanted. Afterschool wasn't cool. And it wasn't until I started running Afterschool for the Y at the age of 25 that I began to see the benefit of a solid Afterschool program. During my past two years with the Y I have worked to make Afterschool a place where kids feel safe. Every now and then a child starts to worry about why their parent hasn't picked them up yet, and I don't dismiss their fears, instead I work extra hard to make sure the next day that there is enough joy in my program that children are disappointed when it's time to go home.