Volunteering made difficult

Yesterday I got an email newsletter proclaiming this week as Volunteers’ Week. It came from ‘Do-it‘, a national organisation whose strapline is ‘Volunteering made easy’. Sorry, folks, you’ve not made it easy for me.

Being semi-retired, I now have time for some voluntary work. Helping with adult literacy is what I want to do, an interest which goes back almost 40 years to when, as a probation officer, I was shocked by the almost complete illiteracy of many of the offenders with whom I was dealing. How could they have spent a decade in school and not be able to read and write? Well, they could and they did. And it still happens.

I made my first move in early December, six months ago: dropping in at the Community and Voluntary Service (CVS) building in the city centre. It’s a big place, so it was surprising to be told there was no one who could see me. It was even more surprising to hear I couldn’t have an appointment for a couple of weeks. However, the receptionist suggested I enter my details on the Do-it website and said someone from CVS would contact me about a fortnight after that. It was disappointing to be turned away like this, but I consoled myself with the thought that maybe they were being overwhelmed with volunteers.

Back at home, I registered on the website, drafted a careful statement about my background and searched the pages of voluntary positions on offer. I spotted one that looked suitable and ticked the boxes that would send my information to CVS. I then waited for developments. The promised fortnight became six weeks of silence.

Another trawl of Do-it’s website unearthed a vacancy at a local college for an adult literacy volunteer to assist their tutors. Fine, let’s give them a ring. I couldn’t get through to the named person, so left a voicemail inviting him to call me back. Silence for several days, so I called again. Another voicemail. More silence. At the third attempt, I managed to speak to the person I wanted. It was a positive conversation – he seemed interested in what I was offering and indicated it should be possible to arrange something. At the end of the call he asked me to email him saying what I wanted to do. I’ve just told him, I said to myself. But he probably wanted something for the record, so OK.

A few hours later he replied to my email, asking me to complete the application form he was putting in the [surface] mail and to return it with a covering letter saying what I wanted to do. Once received, the college would authorise a Criminal Records Bureau (CRB) check on me, a process which should take about three weeks. The check didn’t worry me, but it was a surprise because I wasn’t seeking to work with children and the whole process was becoming far more formal and bureaucratic than I had envisaged.

When it came, ‘the form’ was actually a wodge including two forms which, together, required me to give a considerable amount of detail about myself and nominate two referees. This is getting silly, I thought. All I want to do is try to help a few adults to learn to read and write better. I’m a teacher with over 30 years experience – albeit in a different setting – and I’m offering a day a week of my time, for free. Nevertheless, I completed and returned the forms and waited. Three weeks later, about to go on holiday, I emailed my contact at the college to say I would be away. Maybe this triggered some action, because after about five more weeks I received from the CRB my copy of their report. Clear, as expected. Nothing from the college, though, to say whether they wanted to use me. Three more weeks of silence passed before I again took the initiative and called the college HR department. Yes, my CRB check was clear, so they would tell my contact. After a bit of fumbling around, I received a call asking me to get in touch with another member of staff. This I did and we arranged to meet at the college the following day. Progress – an appointment, five months after I had made my first move.

The meeting was fine, apart from the fact that the college rep hadn’t seen any paperwork relating to me. I gave a quick run-down and, after I pointed out my lack of experience in adult literacy, he suggested helping a tutor for the final six sessions of a weekly basic skills course being held in a shopping area close to my home. Following that, we could meet again to review the experience and plan the next steps. This sounded ideal, so I agreed. Turn up at a particular shop the following Monday at 9.30am, he said. Full of expectation, I did, to be told by the shop owner that the course sessions were at 2pm. It felt like a bad dream, the kind where there is always another obstacle ahead. But, undaunted and with no plans for that afternoon, I went back for 2pm. Bingo, I met the basic skills tutor! He didn’t know anything about me but, yes, I could help him for the remainder of the course. The snag was that there were only two sessions remaining, not the six I had been led to expect. Still, that was better than nothing, so I pitched in.

Those two Monday afternoons were fascinating, if humbling. I was working with two people with severe literacy problems, on tasks largely suggested by the tutor. On the one hand, this brief introduction confirmed my lack of specialist literacy skills and limited repertoire. On the other, I think it allowed me to demonstrate my patience and some communication skills; it definitely reinforced my motivation and determination to learn. His course completed, the tutor and I parted on good terms. I would have been pleased to continue trying to help him and his students. Unfortunately, he has no more teaching lined up at present.

So, back to the college and the person who had seen me, to discuss what next. He wasn’t available when I rang, so I left a voicemail. Three days later – after no response – I emailed him, reporting on the sessions and enquiring about further opportunities for voluntary work. Another week on, I’m still waiting.

It’s so frustrating. In six months where I have made all the running, I have managed to do just two half-days of voluntary work. At a time when politicians of all parties speak positively about volunteering and during a period when our new prime minister has been encouraging us to do our bit for his ‘big society’, I have gone through the proper channels, been drawn into malfunctioning bureaucracies and achieved almost nothing. Is this common, or even typical, I wonder?

Despite the hurdles, I haven’t given up on the college. I still hope we’ll be able to find a mutually satisfying use for my free labour. But it’s time to look elsewhere for people who might welcome my offer of helping them to read and write better.

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