Recently, I had the opportunity to sleep outside with 35 of my high school students in an effort to raise awareness to the problem of teenage homelessness and homelessness in general. For the most part my students were great (I wish the adult chaperones were as well behaved). They found this to be a powerful and moving experience as they had to build shelters out of cardboard boxes, set up “camp” and then sleep out on a chilly November night (although the weather was fairly pleasant for Kansas City in November, it was still pretty chilly). My students were especially moved by a quest speaker who shared her own personal story about being homeless as a teenager, as well as statistics about the numbers of teens without a home right here in the Kansas City area.
Now I have some experience in this area, having taught for four years in the urban core of Kansas City. While in the urban core, I had several students who were homeless (and others who faced a number of serious challenges) and I have witnessed first-hand the challenges and struggles they face. Actually participating in this project was not as “eye-opening” for me as it was for most of my current students.
For me, the most meaningful part of this experience was the opportunity to explain to my own children why I wasn’t sleeping at home with them for a night. When they asked why I was packing my sleeping bag in my car and putting layer after layer of clothing on, I sat them down and did my best to explain homelessness to them. At eight, six, and two, my children aren’t old enough to understand the complexities of homelessness, but they are old enough to have noticed panhandlers on the street and they know there are people living without a home. I then explained how I was going to act like I didn’t have a home for one night, in an effort to teach others what it is like and how they can help.
Both of my sons peppered me with questions about the night and even asked if they could come with me. After they had exhausted their curiosity and I was almost out the door, my oldest son gave me a great big hug and whispered, “Daddy, just remember you have a home and it is with us.”
Wiping a tear from my eye, I was amazed at the depth of his statement. Home isn’t a cardboard box or a shelter. It isn’t an apartment or a house even. Home, at least for me, is where you family is.