working women

A Day in the Life (These Days)

People sometimes ask me if I like my job.

My answer used to be an enthusiastic “yes!” How can I not love a job filled with reading to kids, writing with kids, doing research and helping them grow into readers and learners?

These days my answer is different. Lukewarm, at best. I get up and go to my school every required day. But I am not excited about it right now. What used to be a positive, welcoming place is now filled with “spread out!” and “don’t touch!” Books turned in are quarantined in a special room on carts until they’re safe to touch.

Instead of kids drifting in and out of my classroom throughout the day, they can only come to the media center once a week during their assigned time slots. They come in, stay in line, sit down in the distanced chairs.

They watch my whole, real face tell them a story on video while they browse tables of books with their eyes, not hands. (I no longer have a clerk to assist me, so I “clone myself” with a video screen.) If students want me to open a book, I prop it on a random page then keep moving. When they have their selections they head to the desk. I scan a barcode instead of them typing their own numbers. No touching! Then they return to the exact same seat.

Instead of laughter, the most prevalent sound is the *psst* *psst* *psst* of food contact surface spray. I scrub. I shuffle books. Gloves on. Mask on. Smiling with my eyes as best I can.

I miss my job. I miss spontaneity. I miss special projects. I miss idle chat that leads to great ideas. A few fewer rules. A few more smiles.

A highlight of the week is when I do carside book delivery to the digital learners. Some drop by twice a week. Sometimes I get to wave to the kids in the back seat and tell them I miss them. Last week a parent held up her phone so I could Facetime with her son, waiting at home for more books. I’m not the only one who is missing something.

Or the other afternoon when I had a spur-of-the-moment takeout picnic with my daughter at the park. As I was leaving I heard a girl’s voice scream in excitement “YOU ARE THE LIBRARY TEACHER! YOU ARE THE LIBRARY TEACHER!” Then her little sister, a new kindergarten student, joined in the hollering. We waved excitedly. From a distance. Even with the mask, they still see me and I still see them.

I’m determined to stay positive and try to keep connecting to kids at a time when everything is about separation. When the kids watch me tell a story and laugh at the right parts, I know I am still reaching them through all the rules and rigamarole.

The Roaring 20s, I tell myself. The Roaring 20s.

perspective

Eyes on You

How does it feel to have eyes on you?

Maybe it’s the person across the room attempting to flirt with you.

Maybe it’s the professor in class with a puzzled looked from a distance.

Maybe it’s your boss peeping your professional online profile?

Maybe it’s your coworker snooping on you on Facebook?

Or maybe it’s that nosy neighbor watching your comings and goings?

How does it feel to have eyes on you? Does it make you paranoid? Does it make you wonder why? Are you even remotely interested and do you have the audacity to ask why? Or do you just sit back and say have at it. It’s public information. I’m aware of that. Interpret how you wish. Your perception may not be my reality but I encourage one to peep anytime.

For me I’m the latter. If I’m so interesting that somebody needs to seek out my daily doings good for them and good for me. I’m relevant. I sparked curiosity. I piqued another’s interest. I saw the post below when I wrote this post and thought how funny and applicable it was.

I left a carrot for the taking. Did somebody bite or did many? That’s the mystery. It’s also the puzzle of how many times one bites.

I love life and writing about the ins and outs of people, places, things and situations. Life provides an abundance of writing inspiration. Thank you to all near and far who inspire me to write and do me, my way.

My adventures continue. Follow along as much or as little as you wish. As a writer I invite you into my world. How you perceive me, my value and my stories are completely at your discretion. Enjoy.