Everything starts right here

It's amazing how many people are afraid of children.  Even those of us who insist we love kids, we want to have kids of our own, we think they're adorable, etc., end up shying away from the chance to be around them.  There's something a bit frightening about kids.  They say things that adults aren't allowed to say, and they ask questions we aren't prepared to answer.  And a lot of times, they need help learning something we've already forgotten.

I walked past the Robot Supply and Repair shop several times before I worked up the courage to go in.  I like robots -- at least, I like reading about them -- but I didn't know if I was allowed.  I'm not an engineer, and for all I knew, the shop was centered around robotics clubs.  Even if it wasn't, there's always a bit of pressure to have some purpose entering a store.  Not everyone thinks curiosity is a purpose, so I stayed out.

Desperation finally sent me in.  A good friend of mine writes android stories, and I wanted a gift for her.  Inside, I found a keychain in the shape of a poseable teddy bear robot, as well as a wall of exotic robot parts and an explanation.  I left with the teddy-bot and a volunteer app.  The application stayed clamped in my notebook for a long time, but I never threw it out.  (How can you throw out an app that asks for narrative tension when listing convictions?)  When an email arrived from my teacher, explaining that we needed to find writing-related service projects, I had an excuse to apply.

Why robots? Because kids are funny.  Funnier than a lot of adults, really.  Even better, it takes less to make them laugh.  I know a lot of college students who think the only good joke is sarcasm, but there's a better one: exploding cake.  Or ice bears, or shark-cat hybrids, or aliens who eat motor oil for breakfast.  It's not that all of us Roboteers are out of our minds; it's just that we're matching our audience. After all, why not robots?  It's the question that's silly, not the theme.

I knew I shouldn't be nervous, the first time I came to help at a workshop.  I'd been through training.  I'm qualified.  I've written stories for school, for life, for the heck of it, for years.  The idea of sitting there with kids still scared me, having to talk about things that didn't start with "So, how's your job/class/project" and handle short attention spans.  But the kids were sweet and the motor oil was delicious, at least according to one boy's protagonist.  First encounter: success.

Things learned from my first few sessions at 826:

-Robots drawn on the whiteboard are always, always better off with fairy wings.
-Your intelligence may, at any time, be gauged by your knowledge of fairy wing anatomy.
-Underwear is always funny.
-Just because a sentence starts with "The animals were all sick so they went out of their cages for shots" and ends two minutes later with evil supervillains does not mean that there are two different stories being told.  The best authors tie opposing ideas together neatly, and kids can be very, very good authors.
-If the kid won't say or write a word, but starts doodling, just let him draw.  His fingers may know what his mouth doesn't.
-Some ten-year-olds have bigger vocabularies than adults, and more exciting ideas to boot.  Let 'em loose and watch them go.
-Don't take it too seriously -- and don't be scared.