Yesterday was interesting. There was another visit at the archery club, this time by some refugee boys. There were three groups of eight boys each, and since it's high summer, we could do it outdoors.
I have done this before, with groups of different ages, from about ten and upwards. These were in their late teens, so I expected them to be, well, easy. I suppose I should have considered the fact that their backgrounds and experiences were very different from the ones ordinary Swedish kids have.
They were all nice and funny boys. They mostly spoke Swedish well enough to communicate, although one or two seemed to prefer English. They didn't seem to remember much of what I said. I found that if I yelled hard enough, they would listen, but I had to do it again a while later. At one point I stood in front of them all, pointing out that there were people (me, that is) in front of the shooting line, and what does that mean? That's right, put your arrows back in the quivers. Everyone. You too. Great, thank you!
But it seems that they enjoyed it. I spoke a woman who took care of them afterwards, and she said that they had been enthusiastic. She also gave me a little present: a package of coconut/chocolate candy. I was actually touched!
In the evening there was the usual practice, with two calm and collected ten-year-olds.