When I thought about volunteering at an orphanage for disabled children in Beijing, the image that came to my mind was not like Angel’s Home at all. I pictured an unkempt house, one adult, and around ten young children moving around the house in unorganized leisure. I didn’t think that the kids would trust me or accept that I would be helping to take care of them for a month. On the fifteen minute walk through the slums of Beijing outskirts to get to Angel’s Home, I became more and more convinced that the scene I pictured would be the case. The street the orphanage was on was very much run down, eroded, and had adults, children, and animals sitting on the side of the road, and milling around. People were selling vegetables, grilled meats, and other miscellaneous foods to the very few others coming in and going out of the small, enclosed street. The previous times I have gone to Beijing, I visited the Great Hall, the Summer Palace, the Bird Nest and the Forbidden City.  This side of Beijing was one I was not familiar with. Even with all of the pollution in the air, the sun was scorching. The air smelled even worse here when it mixed with the smell of food and scattered garbage. The temperatures were in the 90’s almost every day, which made the walks to the orphanage feel like journeys through the desert. To keep from getting dehydrated, I would buy water frequently from a tiny supermarket near the top of the street that appeared dusty and worn down from the outside, but was actually neatly kept inside.

When I finally saw the Angel’s Home orphanage, I was first surprised at how big it was. Of course it wasn’t that big, but it certainly wasn’t a small house like I had imagined. There was a nice garden in the front, and two buildings, not including the garage and storage house, which was just one room. One of the buildings was two stories tall. The first building was the main office, where at least seven adults worked to manage the orphanage. There was a single classroom obviously meant for no one older than five years old, which connected to the kitchen and eating room. The eating area was so small that not all of the children were able to eat at the same time. The infants and toddlers ate at 5:00pm, and the older children ate at 6:00pm. There was a door that led outside, where all of the children’s outdoor toys were, like small tricycles, strollers, and play sets. In the two story building, there was an enclosed space with mats laid out on the floor. Around fifteen children ranging from less than one year old to three years old stayed there almost all day, and played under the watch of about six adults.

Although I was told that all children sent here have some kind of disabilities, most disabilities were very hard if not impossible to identify by just looking at the child. Some disabilities, however, were hard to miss. The second child I saw was a young girl, no older than three or four. All her skin was covered in burns, cuts, and blisters. For the whole month I was there, none of her injuries healed, and on some days it was worse than before. There was also a boy without any fingers or toes. I realized later that he would always try to achieve what he wanted to do, regardless of his disability. Several times, he would try to climb up the slide, and I would offer to assist him. But he never let anyone help him, replying to my offers with an emphatic “Bu Yao” (“Don’t!”) and would continue to try again and again on his own. A few of the children had disabled legs, or Down’s syndrome. There were also two young girls who had been conjoined at birth, and successfully separated through surgery.

Every Monday through Thursday, my friend, who is also an American,  and I would take the bus, transfer to the subway, walk for about fifteen minutes to get to Angel’s Home, and then start to work immediately.  We helped to look after the toddlers in their play room for hours. That was the easy part, though. Before we could do that, we would often be given a task, such as sweeping the floor outside, scrubbing the children's shoes and adults’ sandals and putting them out to dry, taking in and folding clothes, or cleaning the electric fans. In the ruthless Beijing heat, the difficulty of each task was multiplied. Twice, an inflatable kid’s pool for the children to swim in was set up outside. On those days I would help bring them outside and get changed, and then just splash them with water and retrieve any toys they threw out of the pool. On the days that we stayed after five, which occurred more often than not, we helped to feed the children their dinner. That was not an easy task, because some of them cried when put in the high chairs, and it is nearly impossible to feed a bawling child.

A few times, the actions of the children at Angel’s Home surprised and impressed me. I mostly stayed with the infants and toddlers, so it was even more amazing to see how they interact with each other. Once, one of the boys, around two years old, started crying because he wanted to play with the electric fan, but the adults wouldn’t let him due to obvious safety hazards. I then saw a girl who was no older than one stagger over to him and pat his back comfortingly, trying to console him. A little boy named Ming Ming, who was about two years old, would constantly want me to pick him up, throw him in the air, turn him upside down, and spin him around. If I stopped, he would become very sad, and often cry, for about two minutes before he found something else to entertain him. Once I was holding a girl who was a little more than half a year old, called Rei, on my lap. Then Ming Ming decided to run towards something behind Rei and me. Before he could reach it however, he tripped and fell right in front of her, which made her laugh. Seeing her look so happy, Ming Ming went back to the wall and waited for a while before running towards Rei, and purposely falling in front of her, making her laugh again. He repeated this stunt so many times. It was only when Rei wasn’t as amused anymore that he stopped.

Seeing how cute and happy the children were, sometimes I wondered how touched their parents would be if they could see them. It’s sad that they have to miss all the moments that I was lucky enough to see. The orphanage is run by responsible and loving adults, the environment is safe, and the children are happy and well taken care of. However, I still think they all deserve a normal, permanent home with the attention and unique care from a mom and dad. One of the children from Angel’s Home was adopted and went to America this August. Another has a possible mother who lives in Italy, doing everything she can to someday adopt her and bring her home. When she visited, I tried to speak with her. It was very difficult, since I could only speak English fluently, she could only speak Italian and Spanish, and the orphanage worker who was with us could only speak Chinese fluently. Fortunately the Italian lady could read English pretty well, so we settled on writing to each other with a notepad, and using several smart phones as electronic translators.

The children were incredibly well behaved considering that they are only babies and toddlers. One girl, who had disabled legs, would often pick up a random source of entertainment from the floor and sit without crying for hours, playing with the object. There was a boy, who was probably less than one, who was crying because someone had stopped carrying him the first day when I came to the orphanage. Not sure what to do, I just remembered how my own dad had taken care of me when I was a baby. I carried him around, and took him to look out the window, and see other things that usually babies would not be too interested in. However he seemed curious about everything I took him to see, such as the curtains, the light switch, and the handle on the window. I felt a sense of accomplishment when he eventually stopped crying.

I especially liked a particular little girl, who is called Xin Ling and is about 1 or 2 years old. She was born with extremely bad eyesight, and has to wear glasses with very thick lenses. When I first saw her, she was being carried by an adult, and kicking her legs, trying to bounce up and down. The adult didn’t seem to notice, though. Her wandering eyes looked huge behind the glasses, and both her arms were in braces, which she wears occasionally although I never found out what they were for. Xin Ling would often lay on the floor with her forehead touching the ground, her flexible body curled due to the lack of strength in her muscles. It saddened me and made me laugh at the same time seeing her so cute and helpless. When I told my dad that I wanted to adopt her, he had a long talk with me about how one has to be able to support oneself in order to help others. He said that one has to acquire knowledge and resources to solve the larger problems; otherwise their idealism would be crushed and burn under the weight of frustration and failure. He supported my decision of donating the extra Chinese money I had from the trip to the orphanage and assured me that I am not alone in my effort in helping these children. I tried to spend as little as I could so more could be left to the orphanage. I understand that to find a path to help children like Xin Ling, I have to go step by step, beginning with gaining more knowledge and skills through education. I turned 15 while I was working at Angel’s Home, and nothing could have made me happier than to go to the orphanage and see the children again. I know I will never forget the kids I took care of in Beijing, and my experience will motivate me in my future undertakings.