10.22.2009

work

Regular employment kills blogging.

A vicious combination of waking early, doing the same things each day then being too tired for evening adventures doesn't leave much to say.

Now, I'm not doing exactly the same thing each day and every once in a while a child will say something mildly amusing but that's the limit of it unfortunately. There are no kids getting trampled by horses or chewed on by geese. I don't want that of course, just saying it would give me something to write about.

So let's see. I guess I tuck my shirt in a lot these days, and as a result look dapper as fuck. Yes, mum. I'm using the F-word intentionally. In fact that's my new catchphrase.

If I made t-shirts with "dapper as fuck" on them, who would buy?

Heh.

Heck, even most of my groups have been awesome, so I don't have much to complain about. Someone suggested it might be simply because I'm a tall man which lends an air of authority to my person, and these children don't know me so I suppose that might be the case. Or maybe I'm just particularly skilled. Let's assume I'm just fortunate to get the good classes/teachers and hope it continues because I'm already awesome in other ways. There's no need to overdo it.

I have had one bad class. They were a private school that may or may not have told the kids they were the chosen on a regular basis. Apparently the school is awful every year. The teachers are less concerned with the quality of the tour as they are with getting to as many buildings as possible. Mine informed me and the class her record was 10 buildings and if they behaved we might be able to break it. It didn't help with discipline but I obliged as best I could, bypassing the interactive fun stuff like getting dressed up.

Nothing holds a child's attention more than being rushed through something their teacher has already told them is more about speed than learning!

What else...

This job is really the first time I'm interacting with the multiculturalism that Canada keeps yammering on about on a regular basis. The past week has been a bit more mixed, but up until now it has been no white kids in the classes, just a myriad browns. One of the other guides is a former principal in the TDSB and she has some really interesting insights on the Toronto board and certain areas of the city where the white folk go, trying to enclave and isolate themselves. Guess what people, we're on our way. Time to let go of the past and get used to it.

Another of the guides is currently an archaeologist for the Toronto Regional Conservation Authority (who run BCPV as well) so yesterday we chatted briefly archaeologically (she only completed her degree relatively recently and is 40+, so there's still time for a career change).Also yesterday my assigned school was misbooked, so I ended up in the office counting activity sheets for the Christmas season and chatting with another guide. She having recently graduated from a master's in museum studies at Leicester University in England.

Not only is the job decent, when you have 25+ other people around you're bound to find some interesting experiences to learn from.

Up until now the only complaint has been the commute distance. Starting work at 9 means leaving the house no later than 730 to catch all the buses and trains I need to get there. And if it's only a morning shift I work 3 hours and am hurtling south by 1215.

As per usual fortune has smiled upon me and another new guide lives mighty close and she owns a car. She's been driving me home after work when she's heading downtown (out to another job some nights) and the last two days has been kind enough to pick me up in the morning. Hello 8AM departure!

Too sweet.

It's all ticking over really purdy like.

Except for this one thing. This morning, after a restless night, the clock said
when I opened my eyes for the umpteenth time. There was a fraction of a second where I thought, Awake, and too early again. That was followed by, Stef's picking me up exactly NOW! (my clock's 4 minutes fast you see).

Oops.

But that's what bananas dipped in peanut butter are for right? And she was 2 minutes late herself so I even had my shoes tied by the time she arrived. I win!

No comments:

Post a Comment