An older youth director’s deep connection with a Salinas youth group | Opinion
At times, it seemed almost criminal for me to accept a salary for my work as director of Middle School Ministries at Northminster Presbyterian Church in Salinas. I loved that job. I’ve often said that my marriage may not have been a “match made in Heaven,” but me with those kids? That, my friends, was a literal “match made in Heaven.”
I knew I was going against the stereotype of a youth director: I was in my early 50s. (For comparison, the young woman I was following in this position was a recent college graduate.) That was the usual formula — someone not much older than the kids themselves. But I wanted to work with those kids, so I put forth my application anyway.
When I was selected for that position in addition to my post as director of Christian Education, a woman in the congregation came up to me and asked, “What makes you think you can handle those kids?” I was nonplussed and did not have a ready answer. The expression on her face and the tone of her voice were asking additional questions: “What are your qualifications? Are you educated in the special requirements of this complicated demographic? Aren’t you too old to relate to this complex group?”
I don’t remember who she was or how that conversation ended. But this much I do remember: For me, every minute with those kids was filled with miracles. They brought their rapt attention, unlimited enthusiasm and readiness for a challenge to every meeting. The group grew until we needed to put a limit on numbers — and still they came. So, we adapted and accommodated. No kid was turned away.
When I was first given the position, this group was meeting from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. on Friday evenings. They wanted more. So, I extended the hour to 10:00 p.m. and then until 11:00 p.m. Still, they wanted more time. Eventually, they came straight after school on Friday and stayed until 11:00.
Northminster’s beautiful facility had a regulation-size gym, two fully-equipped youth rooms — complete with pool tables and foosball — and a modern kitchen and dining room. The building sat in the middle of spacious, beautifully lit grounds. No other groups met during our time slot, so we had the run of the entire facility. I realized how fortunate I was, and I often thought, “If I couldn’t work with kids here, I would be hopeless!”
During a class I took, the instructor said, “When working with kids, there are negotiable values and non-negotiable values. Know the difference,” he said, “and say ‘yes’ as often as possible. Then, when you have to say ‘no,’ it will be heard.” This advice made absolute sense to me. I stretched every time I could, and I said “no” only when necessary. And, believe it or not, I never once had a discipline problem.
I was delighted when I was asked to fill the position of “campfire speaker” at the Presbyterian summer youth camp in Yosemite. Each camping session included a couple of hundred middle school kids, and the days were crammed with every imaginable activity. The last session of each day was the after-dark campfire. Every kid attended, sat around a huge bonfire, sang songs, participated in skits and generally enjoyed the type of camaraderie that is possible in this intimate natural setting.
Lasting friendships are forged, and deep learning takes place. I felt keenly my responsibility to be relevant, challenging and joyful as I presented the spiritual truths these young people needed to hear.
The tallest, coolest kid at camp — there’s always one, it seems — came up to me one afternoon. We were about two weeks into the camping session, and I had noticed Gino’s effect on the kids in his sphere of influence. Tall, Italian, strongly built, with a thick head of wavy brown hair, huge dimples and a 100-watt smile, Gino was a natural magnet. Everyone wanted to hang out with him, and, of course, the girls were especially drawn to his inherent charms. When Gino approached me that afternoon, he came straight to the point, blurting out, “How old are you, Bunny?” I smiled at him, and I asked, “Why is that important to you, Gino?”
“Oh, it’s not,” Gino answered. “I know you’re old. But you’re so cool. How did you do that?”
It was the best compliment I ever received. And here’s what I think: That’s pay day. We do have to have money in the bank to pay the mortgage and buy groceries, but the words Gino spoke to me that day? Priceless.
An “old” woman with no formal education in youth work? And yet there was a bond between me and those kids that no book, lecture, grade, class or diploma could authenticate. No class exists that teaches heart, and yet kids recognize heart — even when it abides with wrinkles and a few gray hairs.
Bunny Stevens lives in Modesto, her hometown, and has served on The Modesto Bee Community Advisory Board. She is the opening courtesy clerk at the Safeway supermarket on McHenry Avenue and an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. Reach her at BunnyinModesto@gmail.com
This story was originally published November 8, 2025 at 6:00 AM with the headline "An older youth director’s deep connection with a Salinas youth group | Opinion."