Personal Narrative: Why I Volunteer At Mitey Training
It’s a Thursday afternoon, and in walks Kayleigh. A pink jacket, bedazzled jeans, and a grin plastered on her face. Attached to her mother’s hip, yet ready to take on the day. She’s petite, but mighty, and what she lacks in physical size she makes up for in spunk. I see her every week, and I know that with every new day comes a new challenge, and hopefully, a new solution. I volunteer at Mitey Riders, an organization dedicated to helping children with special needs through therapeutic riding and equine-assisted activities. I’m a side-walker, so my responsibilities encompass keeping up with the horse and my rider, Kayleigh. I interact with her during our exercises to make sure she’s comfortable, excited, and trying her best. But when
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Kayleigh had a thing with gloves, she always wanted them put on a finger at a time, tedious—but a must. She had been running late and as soon as she arrived she was swept onto her horse, Sugar, and another volunteer swiftly put her gloves on for her to save her from the nipping chill. A few laps around the barn and Kayleigh was absolutely unappeasable. Despite our desperate pleas, she had completely given up on riding Sugar a single lap more, and her crying only worsened with the incessant jabbering directed at her. She refused to hold the reins, holding her hands above her head as if her life depended on it. Though the other volunteers were adamant that she continue riding, I finally spoke up. After vocalizing my concern that we try a new approach, they permitted my request that we stop the horse so that I could talk to Kayleigh, and once we did, I immediately knew the culprit— her gloves. I took them off and put them back on just as she liked, and we talked until she was calmed. By the time she got back on Sugar she was practically bouncing with joy again, seemingly oblivious to her tantrum not five minutes
Kayleigh had a thing with gloves, she always wanted them put on a finger at a time, tedious—but a must. She had been running late and as soon as she arrived she was swept onto her horse, Sugar, and another volunteer swiftly put her gloves on for her to save her from the nipping chill. A few laps around the barn and Kayleigh was absolutely unappeasable. Despite our desperate pleas, she had completely given up on riding Sugar a single lap more, and her crying only worsened with the incessant jabbering directed at her. She refused to hold the reins, holding her hands above her head as if her life depended on it. Though the other volunteers were adamant that she continue riding, I finally spoke up. After vocalizing my concern that we try a new approach, they permitted my request that we stop the horse so that I could talk to Kayleigh, and once we did, I immediately knew the culprit— her gloves. I took them off and put them back on just as she liked, and we talked until she was calmed. By the time she got back on Sugar she was practically bouncing with joy again, seemingly oblivious to her tantrum not five minutes