WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! WOOOOOOHOOOOHOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! There, just needed to get that out of my system. Today was my very first day working as a full-fledged Early Childhood Educator, ever... and it came quite suddenly too, might I add.
This morning started out with me staring bleary-eyed at my phone ringing beside my bed at the (not-so) ungodly hour of a quarter-past seven, trying to decipher what exactly the caller ID meant by displaying the name of a childcare centre I had been at for an interview last week. By the time I realized this meant the centre was actually calling me at that very moment, and probably for something rather important, it was almost time for my voicemail to kick in and pick it up. Then I had a split-second argument with myself - should I pick it up? If I do, I'll have my groggy morning voice. If I don't, I just may be missing the call of a lifetime. Opportunity wasn't knocking, she chose the much less conventional, yet more convenient option of calling my ass out of bed. So, I answered, just in time.
I was greeted not by the supervisor of the centre (I thought that rather odd) but by one of the workers, asking me if I could fill in for a short 12-2 shift to cover while they have a meeting. I stammered in disbelief.
"Ya, uh, yes, of course, I'd love to. But can I? You do know I don't have all my paperwork filled out yet?" And apparently it was okay, according to the supervisor, so long as the paperwork gets done by Friday. Okay. That I can do. No problem. Nix the grocery shopping, the banking, the trek to city hall to get a parking permit, the shoe shopping so I have somthing without holes to cover my feet, and the million-and-one other errands I planned on running today, and go work at a daycare for a couple hours. Get the other stuff done after. Not a problem. "Okay, I'll see you then."
So I get myself ready, have a good wholesome breakfast, a really good cup of strong coffee, spruce myself up, and make the forty-minute commute on the subway to this amazing centre.
Not more than half-an-hour into the shift, and the supervisor comes in and asks me if I'm willing to stay until six. One of the other workers is going home sick.
"Sure!" I say emphatically. Okay. This I can do. I don't have a lunch, or a water bottle, and I'm already kinda thirsty. Today was supposed to be my day off, and I still have all those errands to run, and I have to pee, but really, for this kind of pay, and the foot in the door, it's totally worth it. Besides that, I'm already loving it here. I still have tomorrow before work at the bookstore in the evening for the errands. It's all good. I've managed more before, and it'll all be good.
The day goes by. I jump right in head-first, serving lunch and snack, conducting storytimes, helping out at the arts and crafts area, and facilitating problem solving - almost the whole gamut (there are no diapers because these kids are kindergartners, thank god). Soon, the supervisor comes in again, checks on how things are going, and asks if I can come in tomorrow from 8:15 - 2:30. I seriously can feel glee rising up from within me.
"Of course! That'd be great." I say with a massive display of my pearly whites. All the while the little secretary inside of me who manages my agenda is saying, "You have work at 5:30 tomorrow, you're cutting it pretty close to overbooking. Watch yourself there." (she has an auburn beehive hairdo, white rhinestone horn-rimmed glasses, a nasally voice, and sits at a vintage Steelcase desk with an Arne Jacobsen chair) So I check myself, and realize I can't commit to anything more tomorrow after this. There go the groceries, and the errands, but what the hey, for that money, the groceries are already paid for!
So the day wears on. The kids are sweet, the staff is friendly and supportive, and the parents are all pleased to meet me. "So nice to see the men in this field." they say. Six o'clock hits and I'm dismissed. I drag my tired sack of bones to the subway station (not before visiting the other Subway for an easy supper - hey, I deserve it, besides, there are no groceries at home!) I call Mom and give her the good news, ask about how Dad's first day went, and agreed that we need to mark this day on the calander as a good one for the Ouellette's - it's been too long since we did that. Finally (yet I don't know how I did it physically) dragged myself to the grocery store and home (though I did take the streetcar home, even though it's only from one stop to the next), got a lovely call from a long-time friend of mine who's in grad school at Duluth now - ya, that's Wisconsin (or is it Minnesota?), a text from one of my best friends in Windsor, and a hilarious email from the Julia Child soufflé-master I spoke (wrote?) of last time. And now here I am, up past my bedtime, running only on the focus of getting my words written out and posted up. Then I will crash. And it can start all over again tomorrow. So that's how the world works.
In the long run, the moral of this story? Stay in school kids. If you do, you'll get to work two jobs, have no time to buy food, and spend the time you should use for sleeping blogging on the internet. But hey, it beats standing in a breadline, right? (Do they even have those anymore?)
Ciao
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