Dilemma

Pretty shortly after I finished my final paper yesterday, I got a call from one of my (former?) coworkers. I didn’t reach the phone in time, so she left a message. She was speaking in a whisper, and seemed to avoid explicitly saying what she had to say. Her cryptic message seemed to suggest that they want me to come back to work over the summer.

This was my original plan, but we were told that we likely wouldn’t receive the grant that we needed to execute the summer program. At the advice of my boss, I found another summer job. I had forgotten almost entirely about the whole thing, and had the next few months pretty well scheduled.

I miss my coworkers a lot, but I don’t miss the drama, disorganization, and monumental stress that is an inherent part of that job. My coworker didn’t exactly help matters when she began describing all of the bitter contempt that certain members of the staff hold towards each other. Staff conflicts have lead to conflicts between the staff and the girls and, as my coworker herself put it, it’s been a “zoo.”

Can I really insert myself into this sort of environment willingly? I’m leaning towards no. Reasons for saying “yes” mostly revolve around experience: I’d be working with high school kids, which I have not yet done. I dunno, I suppose I also feel that I owe them something.

I love that program so much, but I think I need to continue moving on.

Last Day

Today marks my last day with the after school program. Just as I did on Sunday, when I wrote a little bit about my feelings on the matter, I feel conflicted. I’m excited to have more free time, more time to dedicate to my school work, and I’m especially excited to be free from the disorganization, the poor management, and the constant stress, all of which seem to have pervaded the program in recent months.

Yesterday was my last day at my usual work site, which will be shut down. See, we have a main site, where three of the four middle schools in this town go for programming, and we have (had, I guess) something of a satellite site at one of the middle schools. When I was hired three years ago, it was specifically for this satellite site.

I worked at both sites, but a large portion of my time was spent at the middle school. This site tended to be more relaxed, and we got to partake in other activities that were held at the school.

In recent months, it had not been so pleasant. Physical fights broke out amongst the girls a few times a week, organization waned, and my coworkers and I began to feel very burned out. We almost lost the will to care. But then, the organization from which we get our grant told us that, if attendance wasn’t high, that we’d have to shut down the site.

So here we are. I walked around the school, the halls almost defeaningly quiet, and remembered my first day on the job. I arrived early that day, and wandered the halls for the first time, feeling a bit like a fugitive. I still felt like a child, a student, like I was still a middle schooler like them, and I’d be caught, promptly sent back to class, and probably be given a detention.

That changed. I now view those halls as my place of work, and I feel as if I can handle most of the challenges that present themselves. I must admit, though, that a part of me still feels like a criminal when walking through the silent halls.

I’ve learned a lot, I’m gonna miss the place, I’m gonna miss the girls, I’m gonna miss my coworkers, and I’m going to miss the constant influx of knowledge that this job provided me.

Ultimately, though, in my heart of hearts, I think I’m glad to be moving on.

Spring Forward

Jack and I took a walk down to the cemetery located just past our apartment building and took some pictures. We weren’t there for long because, although the sun was warm, the wind was harsh. This cemetery, despite being, well, a cemetery, is actually a very pleasant place to go. It overlooks the river and the community gardens, which are both very lovely. Here are some of the pictures I took with my crappy HP point and shoot:

Random

Fake flowers that fell over.

A lantern that the wind knocked over.

I just thought this looked pretty.

Grass.

This bird looked cool to me.

Another one of the birdie.

Cross - black and white.

Color.

No leaves yet.

Same tree, the bark at the base.

Close up of the vines.

"V"

This spring marks a new journey for me, if that’s what you want to call it. On Friday, I found out that I will most likely be laid off from my job with the after school program. They’re shutting down the site at which I predominantly work, and with it, they’re probably cutting me.

I’ve been wanting to leave, pretty desperately actually, since about January. For two and a half years, I loved this job, looked forward to it, felt connected with my fellow staff members and the girls we serve, but chaos has taken the program over, and I no longer feel excited to go to work.

The news was still sort of shocking, because I had imagined that, when I finally left, it would be my decision. I also thought I’d have time to prepare myself to leave.
Although I looked forward to leaving, I feel a sense of loss. I’ve learned a tremendous amount from this experience, probably more than I can describe. It exposed me to a culture, so vastly different from my own, that I feared I wouldn’t fit in, or do an adequate job. This couldn’t have been further from the truth. I belong to this family.

I have learned about race, race relations, and poverty. I have seen neglect, and I’ve done my best to counteract it. I have cried bitterly over calling DCF, or the fights that so frequently occur. I’ve gotten drunk to forget what I’ve witnessed, or to alleviate the deep stress that has resulted. I’ve thought to myself “I love my job – I don’t ever want to leave. I’m so lucky.” I’ve also thought, “I can’t wait to quit.”

This week is probably my last week, although I’m still not sure. Perhaps I’ll share stories as I think of them.

This is a new beginning. I died my hair today. I like to think of it as the symbolic act of breaking free.

Chronicle

Tops Mead, Litchfield, CT

When I arrived at my campus job at 8am, I immediately noticed that my chair was missing. This prompted a floor-wide search when my boss came in at 9. No one confessed to stealing it, nor did they have any clue who would have done so. The odd thing is this: there are several chairs in our outer office for visitors and the like. Why not take one of the chairs that just sort of sit there, unused, rather than steal the one chair that is clearly married to a computer and a desk?

Since no one on the floor seemed to be housing this stolen chair, I can only assume that it was taken to another floor. I’m still a little baffled.

Such is the life of an office peon. I could share far more dramatic, unpleasant stories about my other, more exciting job, but I think I’ll save those for another day.

Later, in my “Psychology of Diversity” class (can a concept really have a psychology?), we talked with several rotating partners regarding controversial subjects such as abortion, The War(tm), our own prejudices, and when we’ve been offended by racist language.

This sounds sort of painful, I know. Before participating in it, I would have thought this activity not only uncomfortable and awkward, but pointless and a waste of time. It didn’t turn out that way, though, in the end. The most rewarding part of this exercise was getting to know my fellow students a little, which isn’t something I often get to do. They were all surprisingly nice, and fairly open to sharing their views on these compulsory conversation topics. I guess, when you’re the type of person who would take a class on anything to do with “diversity” or “tolerance,” you’re likely to be nice. Or hopelessly preachy. But all of the people to whom I talked were pretty much of the former category.

As much as I dislike my school, I really have learned an awful lot there. It’s interesting to note just how much knowledge I’ve acquired there, both inside of class and outside. College really does teach stuff.