(you bet your life it is)
I guess it was Tuesday or Wednesday, but one day, I'm sitting in Mrs. Williams' room with the three-year-olds when Donna comes by the room. I figured she was just checking in, so I said hi and went back to reading my book, Elizabeth: The Struggle for the Throne by the amazing David Starkey (the kids were all napping, so there was no neglect to be going on). I noticed Donna kept lingering, so I looked up again.
I nearly stood up and banged my head on the wall repeatedly at the next thing she said.
"I didn't know you weren't nineteen! You can't be alone with these kids if you aren't nineteen!"
...really? Really?
"I just got your background check back today and it said you were eighteen and couldn't be alone with the kids!"
I realize Donna didn't hire me. Adrienne, and nobody else, was at fault for the whole "throwing me at the four-year-olds without any kind of warning to watch alone for four hours" thing, but Donna didn't even bother to check my age, I guess. I mean, if Adrienne was let go, then she was obviously doing something wrong, and it seems like it would fall on Donna to check up on it. So now she's making a big deal (although, to be fair, it isn't her fault - it's in the Minimum Standards of Daycare Centers, which I've practically memorized - Hermione Granger much? I know...) about me not being left alone in the room. Example: Conda went to the bathroom and to make copies, and wasn't gone for more than ten minutes (and Mrs. Pierce, who is the afternoon teacher for the three's now, and extremely nice, wasn't there yet) and Donna apparently got onto her for leaving me alone.
Okay, if I were a year away from being nineteen, I could handle it. I would just say, "Oh, yes, I thought they told you, etc., etc." But I turn nineteen on July 27. Yes, a month from Friday, for God's sake! JULY 27. If I've been working since May 15 (an estimate, for I can't remember the exact date I started, and am too lazy to get my folder across the room and check) by myself, then why should it be any different a month before I'm nineteen?
Anyway, I nearly got my jaw stuck in the "dropped mouth" expression when Donna said, "I had no idea you weren't nineteen!"
Serious part of the entry #2: Josh.
So, this post isn't as dramatic as it probably sounds from the subject line and first line, which are taken from Tori Amos' Cornflake Girl. Probably my all-time favorite Tori tune, is featured on (but not originally from) Tales of a Librarian, which is probably my favorite collection of Tori songs out there. It's inspired me to share some random facts. These don't really have much to do with anything in particular, and something of substance actually comes after this, so, to keep my readers on their toes, I'll go ahead and list them. (I'm sure my writing style is effective, but that would change if I actually have a writing reinforcement course, which I should in the Fall [The French Revolution and the Napoleonic Era, 1789-1815 with Dr. Hultquist, woo!].)
- I want to be a librarian. I can't think of a better reason to just sit and read all day and tell loud people to shut up. Plus, I've got the librarian thing down. I wear the nerdy glasses, and almost always have my hair up. Buck, a regular at Starbucks who came to a party two fellow baristas were having that Zac and I attended last night (if anyone was able to keep up with that), said he never would have expected me to talk as much as I did last night. He's not the first one to say this. I am very, very quiet when somebody first meets me, or I'll try to make awkward small talk, etc., but once I know somebody for "more than half an hour" according to Zac, I'm sitting there rambling for hours. My dad was the exact same way. Many people think I don't like them at first, but it's seriously just because I never know of anything to say that won't sound completely stupid. So, I've got the "quiet librarian" thing down, right? I probably wouldn't choose to be a librarian for a career, but it would be a fun summer job.
- How to tell if I'm embarrassed or nervous: my ears will be blood-red. I was captain of our eighth-grade Scholars Bowl, and my chest would break out (as it still does - another sign of embarrassment or anxiety), and ears would turn blood red. As I wore (and still wear) my hair up most the time, my teammates and the other team's members would always joke about it. It used to make me extremely self-conscious, but it just makes me laugh now. I wouldn't think I'd turn that red with the olive-y skin I have, but I guess it's the Scottish in me.
- Undoubtedly the hardest thing for me to get used to when I came back home was the loss of my car because of my seizures. I think minus a few annoyances - for which I would just fall back into the routine of dealing with - I would have been perfectly fine had I just been able to drive. I'm not really driving much now, either, but when I have to work at Starbucks and then go to the Children's Place, my mom's letting me drive then so she won't have to keep coming and going. And we're taking it slow, baby steps if you will, since I'm trying out new medicine, but since I'm on two anti-convulsants, one can hope, right?
I guess it was Tuesday or Wednesday, but one day, I'm sitting in Mrs. Williams' room with the three-year-olds when Donna comes by the room. I figured she was just checking in, so I said hi and went back to reading my book, Elizabeth: The Struggle for the Throne by the amazing David Starkey (the kids were all napping, so there was no neglect to be going on). I noticed Donna kept lingering, so I looked up again.
I nearly stood up and banged my head on the wall repeatedly at the next thing she said.
"I didn't know you weren't nineteen! You can't be alone with these kids if you aren't nineteen!"
...really? Really?
"I just got your background check back today and it said you were eighteen and couldn't be alone with the kids!"
I realize Donna didn't hire me. Adrienne, and nobody else, was at fault for the whole "throwing me at the four-year-olds without any kind of warning to watch alone for four hours" thing, but Donna didn't even bother to check my age, I guess. I mean, if Adrienne was let go, then she was obviously doing something wrong, and it seems like it would fall on Donna to check up on it. So now she's making a big deal (although, to be fair, it isn't her fault - it's in the Minimum Standards of Daycare Centers, which I've practically memorized - Hermione Granger much? I know...) about me not being left alone in the room. Example: Conda went to the bathroom and to make copies, and wasn't gone for more than ten minutes (and Mrs. Pierce, who is the afternoon teacher for the three's now, and extremely nice, wasn't there yet) and Donna apparently got onto her for leaving me alone.
Okay, if I were a year away from being nineteen, I could handle it. I would just say, "Oh, yes, I thought they told you, etc., etc." But I turn nineteen on July 27. Yes, a month from Friday, for God's sake! JULY 27. If I've been working since May 15 (an estimate, for I can't remember the exact date I started, and am too lazy to get my folder across the room and check) by myself, then why should it be any different a month before I'm nineteen?
Anyway, I nearly got my jaw stuck in the "dropped mouth" expression when Donna said, "I had no idea you weren't nineteen!"
Serious part of the entry #2: Josh.
- Joseph hereby has all rights to answer my phone if he calls me again.
- No, Josh, I can assure you, I'm still dating Joseph, and I'm not planning on changing that anytime soon, so perhaps you should back off.
- Just because I'm friendly doesn't mean I'm romantically interested. There's a difference, and I realize it was hard for me to accept that (see: Linn Groft from UA, haha), but now I understand, and apologize fully (although Joseph has already heard this). My mom used to get super freaked out whenever my dad would talk to any woman, but my dad just talked and talked and talked - that's just the way he was (see: earlier in the entry). I'm the same way. Josh and I have similar music tastes (he asked me if I'd ever heard of The Police and Pink Floyd...pretty sure I laughed in his face) but that does not equal, nor will it ever in any universe if you're talking to me, romantic interest. I get around in the music world - I'm Rufus Wainwright's fag hag and the bearer of his children if he decides he wants a little Rufus or Rufustina; I'm Tori's lesbian lover; I'm Chris Martin of Coldplay's mistress. You know? I just love music. That does not mean I want your body, Josh.
- Willow, just because Josh "can't keep his eyes off" me while he's at Starbucks doesn't mean I return the favor.
- Josh, I'm not sure what impression I must have given you to warrant such a punishment, but I assure you, I do not want to hear about your sex life. I don't care what you used to do with your now-ex girlfriend, nor do I ever want to hear another word about it for the rest of my life. I really would have been fine if you never told me that. Does it say "speak to me about your sexual frustrations!" across my forehead? I didn't think so, and I'm pretty sure I've looked in the mirror more than once today.
- "And the man with the golden gun / Thinks he knows so much, thinks he knows so much" is the line that describes Josh (from Cornflake Girl)
gone to the other side
with my encyclopedia
-Tori Amos, "Cornflake Girl"
with my encyclopedia
-Tori Amos, "Cornflake Girl"
3 comments:
i'll be honest, christina. considering the list of "things that ms. mixon was doing wrong" that got dumped into donna's lap when she graciously decided to return to the center, i hope you can forgive her for not checking your age. and honestly, if, in a burst and in that moment, the worst thing she had to obsess over was the fact that your being alone was a misstep, that kind of makes me feel pretty good about her current grasp on the center.
that being said, i completely understand why it would seem weird and out of sorts for the random exclamation. you may or may not know that you are "lucky" enough to be a part of the most anxious period in the chidren's place's history. i would just encourage you enjoy the ride. it won't be nearly this interesting (in a good way) if you come back for another summer. :)
If blogspot eats my comment one more time I'm going to chuck my computer against the opposite wall.
That having been said, I'm pretty much over the whole debacle now, but still surprised that it's such a big deal when I'm almost exactly a month away from being nineteen. Today, Mrs. Mixon came in Starbucks during my shift, which was incredibly awkward, but I wanted to ask her why on earth she put me alone with the kids when she very well knew I wasn't yet nineteen.
However, as you pointed out, at least she noticed and took the proper steps to do something about it, or at least as much as she can do. Plus, our DHR lady (Mrs. Fischer?) is expected to come sometime this week or soon, so it'll be good that I'm not under the kind of pressure I was under before.
I'm taking it one day at a time, and hope for the best. I'm definitely planning on coming back next summer, if they'll have me. I'd like to take some child-based classes sometime while I'm in college, and I think the experience I'll get (and already have) with the Children's Place will be just the thing.
Thanks for the comment and encouragement. :)
Post a Comment