Little Rock man living inside box for 30 days to bring awareness to mentoring program

Tommy Covington is spending 30 days in a plastic box parked in various locations around Little Rock to raise awareness of his mentoring program, Cov's Kids, and to symbolize the limitations inner-city kids face.
Tommy Covington is spending 30 days in a plastic box parked in various locations around Little Rock to raise awareness of his mentoring program, Cov's Kids, and to symbolize the limitations inner-city kids face.

A Little Rock man has confined himself to a box for 30 days to represent the limitations inner-city kids face — and to raise awareness of a program meant to help them break free.

The industrial plastic box, the size of a medium U-Haul trailer, sat in the shadow of a strip mall off Chenal Parkway on Thursday morning, one of several locations 49-year-old Tommy Covington has parked in the past week.

Covington said he hopes his self-described "stunt" will get the word out about his mentoring program, Cov's Kids, in which he gives children access to outdoor adventures and positive role models.

The box represents the outlook of kids who have never known life outside the streets of Little Rock, Covington said.

"The box is open and wide and clear. They can look out and see famous NBA players, rappers, people making money, people becoming doctors and lawyers and attorneys ... [but] they feel trapped," he said, knocking his fist against the clear wall.

Covington said he has been mentoring children — particularly African-Americans, according to his website — in Little Rock for the past four years, but the outdoor program is still in its pilot phase. He's taken a group of kids out fishing and bowhunting, and his eyes well up when he talks about how one of the children sees him as a father.

"Black kids want to hunt and fish just like white kids," he said. "A kid is a kid is a kid."

Thursday morning, a woman stops by the box's dog door — its outlet to the outside world — and lets her toddler pet Covington's brown labrador retriever, Moose.

Covington points to a green tent, just large enough for one person to stand in.

"Bathroom and shower," he says.

The "master suite" consists of a Covington's bed and Moose's box. Three deer heads and one open-mouthed plastic fish are mounted on the walls. There's an exercise bike and an Atari system that Covington will play with kids who stop by.

Covington's son and his friend built the box with $2,000 worth of plexiglass donated from Mr. Plastic. The graphics that line its wall were a donation from GameTime Wraps.

Covington said he doesn't think he'll do a stunt that involves sitting for so long again — he describes himself as a "doer" — but he said it's helped start conversations and get the word out. Nov. 19 will be his last day in the box.

He said he received a Facebook message from a single mother in central Arkansas with one son in prison and another 12-year-old son she worries is going down the same path.

"She was begging me for help," Covington said. He told her they'd get her younger son involved.

From behind the wall, he waves to the cars that crawl by. Some wave back, looking confused. When people walk by, Covington hands them an information card about the program and asks if they think they could live in a box.

"No one's tried to run me off," he said with a laugh.

Though the box does have a donation slot, he said the project is more about awareness of the "plight of inner-city kids" than money.

"They matter," he said. "They, too, can get out of the box."

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