The melodramatic squeals and giggles oozing from children as
they walked past my door on their way to school this morning were barely audible
over the deafening silence emanating from my phone as it sat silently nestled
in its cradle. Oh well, I had other
things to think about this morning.
Coffee in hand, I was equipped to handle whatever found itself in my
path.
The first of those things would be my part time job number
1. PT job 1 requires my undivided
attention, tests the limits of my patience, and entices my entire brain into
action… for only two hours a week. So why put
myself through that for such meager money?
Because for two hours a week I am required to give something my undivided
attention, test my patience (ok, who’s kidding who, my children already "encourage" me to develop
this essential life skill on a daily basis), and entice my brain into
action. A testament to either my
adaptability or my gullibility, I am tutoring a college student in a course I took
thirteen years ago and haven’t looked at, thought about, or remotely dabbled
with since. I also tutor another college
student in another course I’ve never taken, been exposed to or have any
experience in. Crazy? Maybe.
Capable? Sure. It’s dealing with numbers. Sweet, simple numbers that blend together in
melodic harmony creating music as they go.
Oh boy, the corny, over dramatic, blech-ness (new word as of right now) of
that sentence made me snort my steamy cup of java out my nose… but I had to
keep the sentence. When else would I get
the opportunity to talk about snorting coffee out my nose?
Before heading out for my morning brain crunch, I had social
obligations to fulfill. Yes, that’s
right, no day can fully begin without first checking email and then checking in
with various social media. This morning,
a friend’s update was ‘Stay true to yourself.”
Small words, big meaning.
I was thinking about this update on my way to PT job 1, and
again on the drive home. While searching
frantically (or passively frantically, if that’s possible) for a job, I’m
finding it very easy to get caught up in the emotions of the experience. Applying to job after job, only to be met
with the emptiness of nothing, my competitive-self began to step in and spew
gray matter in all directions. I had
been challenged. Being presented with
the cold, hard fact that my chosen career number 3 was not currently available
to me, I forgot why I was no longer in career 1 or 2 and began to aggressively pursue
re-entering either of them, just to show the world that I could. Stubborn, competitive me.
I was a teacher in career number 3, before we moved to this
delicious land covered in rows of over-sweet grapes preparing themselves to
become the delicious nectar of next year.
Ah yes, while I may have left a career behind, I have established a new hobby of collecting delicious samples of locally-fermented-grape-juice-in-a-bottle, and will never
complain about it. Unfortunately, in this ever-productive part of
the country, Xavier Roberts seems to have a cabbage patch field harvesting teachers in abundance , leaving
more B.Ed’s in the unemployment lines than there are vines on the
hillside. Alas, I will have to wait my
turn for a classroom. In the meantime, I will continue
to sample the nectar.
Few people have the opportunity presented to them to truly
take the time to find not only what they WANT to be doing, but what they SHOULD
be doing. I realize I am in the minority
in this land. I’m eager to find my
fourth career, not because I’m worried about feeding my family, but because I’m
worried about my gray matter becoming mush. You know, the old use it or lose it adage. Ideally, yes, career number 3 suited me. But in this land of fertile soil, hidden in the beauty of the land, there must be something I SHOULD be doing. (And please, dear husband, don't say the dishes... there's always tomorrow for that.)
