The big man, the one in the paint- spattered uniform shirt and blue jeans, is literally dancing in his square and giggling like a child as he waits for the ball.

"Going down, grandpa!" 10-year-old Ricardo squeals at the big man as he, too, dances and waits for the ball. It arrives and he slams it off the big man's shins and out of bounds. The boy and big man erupt in laughter.

This is what I am certain the future, if we are going to have one worth having, will look like, what it absolutely has to look like.

"This is the best day of my workweek," the big man, Paul Amerine, 56, told me as we waited for the kids to arrive. "You do this, and you forget your worries. And the time goes so fast. These kids are so great, and you feel so good when you leave."

He is one of six men and one woman, each a member of the Aurora Public Schools maintenance and facilities staff, who every Wednesday come to the brand-new Boston elementary school.

For three years now they have combined their break and lunch times to mentor at least five kids at the school. They arrive shortly after 11 a.m., eat lunch with the children, and spend the next hour or so engaged in a playground game while chatting with each child about school and their lives at home.

"They always come up and hug you," says Steve Allen, 53, the direct support coordinator for the district, who came up with the idea three years ago.

"I think we get a little more out of it than the kids do," he says sheepishly. He doesn't know why he started it, he says. "I think it was just a way to give back."

The kids are picked by the school. Some have behavioral problems or parenting issues at home. The first year, Steve Allen said, most didn't have fathers or a male role model in their lives.

That first year, he broached the idea with three men who work for him. All agreed. The school welcomed them. Last year, another man signed on. Today, eight serve as mentors.

Marisela Navarro, 20, signed on two months ago. She is in exterior operations - "I mostly mow the grass at the schools and pick up trash," she says. She had seen the men playing with the children. She begged Steve to join. When she walks in the front door, a horde of young girls rush to her and cling tightly to her. At the little tables at lunch, young girls walk up and hug her.

"It is so much fun for me," Marisela Navarro said. "The kids are so nice, and I just love kids. I feel like one when I am around them."

Mervin Walter, 24, a heating and air conditioning specialist in his second year as a mentor, is jumped on and hugged when he arrives.

"Any chance you give me to play, I'll go play," he says later. "Honestly, doing this just makes you feel better. This is the best day of my week. You forget your worries, the time passes so fast, and I can't describe the feeling when we finally leave."

Randy Nesvold, 55, a carpenter, has volunteered all three years.

"These kids, they need someone or something, at the very least."

For Corey Emecheta, 30, an irrigation technician, it was his second Wednesday afternoon spent at the school. You should know all of their names.

"It is a way to give back," he said. "It doesn't take much time, and it just knocks you over the way these kids look up to you."

Ryan Wamsley, 33, a carpenter, is in his third year. "I like to think we are making an impact in their lives," he said, "even if it's mostly just having fun with them. I feel we are pretty fortunate to have this opportunity. It's one of the reasons I love my job."

Ricky Barber, 41, a plumber, is being just pelted with the ball in the weekly game of four square. He is laughing more than the kids who are doing the pelting.

He was skeptical of the entire enterprise at first.

"It's been neat to see that little kids everywhere are all the same," Ricky Barber said. "I'm so glad the boss persisted in making me come out."

Paul Amerine is holding his own in four square, giving back as good as he is getting, letting the taunts of "C'mon, old man!" slide right off.

"I'd actually love to do this for more kids," he says once the game is over. "If I could do this every day for the district, I would, you know. "This is so rewarding. You feel it in your heart."

They will continue to come to Boston K-8 every Wednesday through May.

What do you make of these guys? I asked Ricardo, a 10-year-old fourth-grader, who was waiting his turn for one of the squares.

"We need them to help us with stuff," the little boy said.

Well, how would you feel if they stopped coming?

"I would feel really left out, like they didn't need me anymore."

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