Bits and Pieces

What I Miss

I visited the daycare the other day, the daycare that was the setting for almost 10 almost always happy years. I went in on the pretext of bringing Shannon some lunch and stayed to play a little bit.

I 'left the classroom' about 4 (maybe 5) years ago and the daycare altogether about 2 years ago.

Day care teachers are subject to burnout more quickly than most professionals because of the nature of the work. Whereas most jobs are hard and taxing and sometimes boring, the day care teacher’s job is more hazardous, physically and emotionally. These are people who are poorly paid and poorly esteemed and who literally raise, nurture and love other people’s children. And trust me, you don’t get paid to love these children, but love them you do because every one of these kids will worm their sticky, laughing way into your heart no matter how rotten or wonderful they are.

As the lights came on after nap time and the kids began the after nap ritual of putting on their shoes and washing up for snack it was as if I’d never left. Sitting on the edge of a cubby I was pulled right in by kids who came over and sat in my lap or asked for assistance or just came over to ask who I was.

“Hi, what’s you name?”

“Marissa”

“Why”

“Hmm, because that’s what my mom called me”

“Why”

“Because she liked that name”

“Why”

“I don’t know”

“Why”

“Because I never asked her”

“Why”

“You know what, I think it’s time for snack.”

“Why”

I never cease to be amazed by the easy affection of 4 year olds. If you are sitting next to their teacher than you must be completely kosher and therefore approachable. I truly miss their innocence and their instant acceptance.

Then came a teacher hauling a screaming child down to the bathroom. The child was kicking and flailing and screaming 'NO' at the top of his tiny little adorable lungs.

Oh yeah, THAT’S why I don’t do this anymore.

The Cop

Driving down the highway with my cruise control set at exactly 72 mph in a 65. As the miles rolled by I hit that little 'accelerate' button and edged it up a mile at a time until I was at 77. Then I ran into a small rolling road block in the form of about 15 cars filling all three lanes and moving quite slowly. I inspected the rolling road block for chinks or cracks where I might pass them and instead spotted the light rack on the top of the lead car. State Trooper. So I slowed down to 68 and fell into place at the back of the pack. I can be patient, after all this guy will probably get off at the next exit or so. 5 exits later however and the pack still growing, the cop was still leading us.

For amusement in these situations I love watching those people who come up on you from behind and begin the passing ritual, the whole annoyed what-the-heck-is-the-matter-with-all-of-you-slowpokes attitude. And then as they start to rev for the ‘passing party’ they too spot the cop and abashedly fall into step behind the rest of us. It provides slim amusement while you’re trapped in the pack, but amusement none the less.

As I crested a hill near the back of the ever growing pack I was treated to quite a site. The cop leading the pack below me turning into a curve and all the others in close pursuit. It resembled a large flock of birds flying in formation. It struck me then that the cop was enjoying his private parade and that he was doing it on purpose.

Storm

While indulging in my favorite pass-time (sitting in borders and sipping coffee while reading a shiny new story) a wonderful thunder storm blows in. Sitting in the café, right in the very corner where two walls of windows come together and the storm blowing outside is close enough to touch. Lightning flash after lightning flash, the thunder is a steady and constant rumble and the rain falling almost sideways in the sudden wind. The buzz of conversation in the café has gone up a notch and everyone is watching the windows, some a bit fearful others just excited by the drama outside. This is one of those wonderful violent storms that always manage to keep me transfixed at my window. The lights are starting to dim a bit now and then and that makes the excited chatter in the café pause until they brighten up again. Sitting here in my corner I have a great view and I can hear every crackle of thunder and every heavy drop of rain. The only thing missing is some coffee. I think about getting some before the power goes out all together and mid thought the power goes out. I can storm watch without coffee if I have to.

Moneygrams

Meeting the Ya-ya’s for dinner one night and I drag them to my favorite Mexican restaurant. It’s probably the closest to authentic Mexican that you can get in the Midwest and I intend to eat my fill before returning to France.

When I arrive at Taxco, the restaurant is empty. I pick a table and wait for the others to arrive. As the minutes tick by the restaurant begins to fill and I also notice people coming in and standing at the counter. I assume they are picking up take-out orders but I don’t really notice, notice them. However, as the line at the counter slowly grows I begin to take a closer look at the group and then I understand what is happening. The people in line are all Mexican and they are all standing in line to send a Moneygram. It’s Friday and they all just got paid and they are lining up to send as much money home to their families as they can comfortably afford to part with. It’s a ritual that few of us can truly understand, it’s the proof that the American dream is still alive and well and to me it’s a sign that that hope is also alive and well. And it’s a sign of something else as well; it’s a sign of courage. Courage to face a life in uncertainty for the betterment of their families. Courage to do the hard things for a stake in an easier future.