Being a Volunteer for the NDCS: Eleanor

I’ve been a volunteer at the NDCS for a while now. Many people ask me, ‘how long have you been a volunteer for now?’ and I honestly couldn’t tell you – time just seems to slip away from me these days. Sometimes when I’m asked how old I am I find myself surprised and confused to hear myself say 23 years old. Yes I know, I’m still young but I’m not naïve, I know I won’t be young forever!

Every summer for the past 3-5 years (I’m just guessing here) I’ve signed up for a residential week with the NDCS. I’ve had some amazing times. My first ever residential I did was in Buxton and it literally changed my life. I got to try the scariest things, I got to work with the nicest people and honestly the most amazing team leader (Tracey – if you’re reading this, come back soon!).

 Best of all, I met and supported the most awe-inspiring young children. I am always taken aback by the younger generation, their determination and strength to do anything. Some of them were able to abseil off this pretty scary looking, at least 100000 metres high arched bridge, without even batting an eyelash. Me, on the other hand, being terrified of heights wanted to do more than just bat an eyelash.. I wanted to run!
You learn that even though these are the children that you’re here for, to look after, that in times of dire and near death experiences, they’re the ones that support (although sometimes it feels like ambushing) you. Of course they would expect me to go down the bridge, of course I’d get asked to go with the one girl who was probably equally as terrified as me, of course it would be the one girl that screamed in my ear the whole way down (and yes I am deaf but I could hear that!!).

I’ll admit when I first became a volunteer I had very limited knowledge of BSL and I often felt like I was missing out. It was somehow ironic to me, that having felt like I’ve been missing out constantly in life, searching for some kind of meaning to fill the void and jumping on the NDCS bandwagon – a charity designed for deaf children to promote equal access, communication and generally making you feel like somebody – that I still couldn’t find that missing jigsaw piece.
I was lucky the first year because I had such a supportive residential group, we had communicators here there and everywhere and luckily most of the group I supported were oral, children that had grown up just like me, not taught BSL but encouraged to talk, to attend mainstream school and take any support available. Often, the children would talk to me about their life experiences and I could completely relate. I hope they took that on board - that they’re not alone and they can, one day, switch roles and become the adult volunteer on the event saying the exact same words I did.

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This year I went to Litchfield for another jam-packed adventure week. Armed with more BSL knowledge than I’ve ever had before (just completed Level 3 part 1 with a view to achieve NVQ Level 3 by next July), more confidence and assurance having worked with children for the past two years.
 I absolutely loved it.

The first part is always the hardest, but this year it was harder for me. Just a few weeks prior to attending Lichfield my dad had passed away. Although I had already done most my grieving it was the first time I’d been away from home, from my family since his death and it was a shock.
 I still remember when he drove me to Peterborough train station before my very first NDCS residential, he could see I was nervous and put ‘Nothing in the Whole Wide World’ by Jakob Dylan on in the car. It fixed everything bubbling away inside of me, all the nerves and anticipation, all of it instantly. However during this particular train journey I’d forgotten my headphones and I still regret that now. I played the tune over and over in my head (but you know it’s not the same).

Meeting new volunteers soon perked me up and made me feel welcome. There were so many lovely volunteers that I hadn’t met before at Lichfield and I soon felt at home. When the children arrived it was manic, 36 children to supervise! We all settled into the week routine rather quickly. I had 12 children in my particular group and we also had the lovely Wish who was a communicator. Together we made THE best group.

During the week I was ambushed (sorry, should that be supported..) into doing the high zipwire after promising a young boy who was terrified that I’d do it if he did. Of course he would do it (and loved it!). There’s nothing like being between a rock and a hard place and I was well and truly.
Imagine being connected up to a harness, less than 50 centimetres from the edge overlooking the ground from the great height, volunteers on the ground waving and putting their thumb up in the air as if to say ‘you can do it!’. If you’re thinking I could have still backed out you’d be wrong. Behind me, was THE best group chanting ‘L, L, L, L, L, L’ which after a while changed into ‘upside down, upside down’ – they were now not just wanting me to push myself off this dangerously terrifying height which I still believe I was at potential risk of dying from, but they were expecting me to do it upside down!
 At least 5-10 minutes must have passed by and I still hadn’t moved. I even asked the instructor if she could push me off, but she said she wasn’t allowed too, health and safety. She could however pull the rope so I felt it tightening and feel more inclined to jump off. I agreed, it was the only way I was going anywhere. And yeah, it was nice. But I wouldn’t do it again – at least not until another NDCS residential.

Residentials are hard work. They are long days, as you’re expected to wake the children up (and be ready yourself before then), support them throughout the day, even when their energy continues at 100% right the way till bedtime. Then, at bedtime, they need to be going to sleep. The amount of silly little things that crop up at 10.30pm, from nightlights to noise – the child that seems to get out of bed to complain countless times. All before you can have the team meeting to discuss your day and then at last you can crawl into bed. And I love every minute.

One thing I really, really liked about this NDCS event was that wherever you were, if you were talking to someone and you didn’t quite hear them there would always be a communicator conveniently nearby who would randomly start interpreting them for you. I didn’t realise how much I appreciated that until I got home, sat down with my family and remembered how much concentration it takes to listen, to block out the loud TV blaring away and piece together the conversation topic first before anything else.

At the end of the residential, my team leader asked to chat with me. Initially I didn’t want to; usually chatting with me indicates I’m in trouble, that I’ve done something wrong somewhere down the line. But I bit the bullet and went for it. He had nothing but positive words for me, how I’d matured as a volunteer etc. Honestly, I felt like crying because I’d worked so hard, that I’d still had thoughts every morning when I woke up that I wanted to go home, that my family needed me, that I wanted to sit in a quiet room and listen to Jakob Dylan on loop.
I stayed because that’s what I do, I love NDCS residentials, I love getting to know the children, we had such shy withdrawn children who by the time they’d left had grown into chatty, confident young people. And in a weird kind of way (but don’t ever tell the children this…) I kind of like being forced into doing new scary things – it makes me feel alive. :)