Saturday, February 16, 2019
An Opportunity and a Memory
I should have used this picture Thursday for Valentine's Day, given the little hearts on the sign. Frankly, though, I didn't realize it WAS Valentine's Day until the day was about half over. As you may surmise, Dave and I are not very attentive to such things.
When I came home from work that night, I joked, "Where are my roses?" And he replied something unprintable that made me laugh, which was worth more than any roses.
Now we're on February Break, and we have all of next week to ourselves. It comes at a good time, because last week was madness. We had lots of classes in and out of the library for various purposes, and lots of books coming and going -- plus my reorganization of the fiction section.
A position recently opened up at school for a high school journalism teacher. I was asked whether I planned to apply, and I considered it, but ultimately decided against it. It would have been a lot more money, but also a lot more stress, and I have no teaching experience so it would have been a steep learning curve for me -- how to make lesson plans and grade students and that kind of thing. It would have meant overnight travel with student groups, which sounds like my idea of a nightmare, as well as the pressure of appointing the editors of the student paper and overseeing its production. Lots of working nights and weekends, in all likelihood. That's if I'd even gotten the job.
Yes, I have newspaper experience, but it was almost a decade ago. At the end of the day I think the kids are probably better served by someone whose experience is more recent and who knows something about teaching. I've honestly never envisioned myself a teacher. It's not a job that calls to me -- and I think it needs to be a calling for someone to do it well. Besides, Dave and I are lucky enough not to need more money. We're doing fine.
So, yeah. I'm staying put in the library, at least for now.
Can you see that cat sitting out of reach beyond the fence, taunting Olga? We pass this cat many mornings on our walk, and that's what it does -- it knows Olga can't get to it. She sure does try, though.
Today would have been my dad's 82nd birthday, if he were still with us. It's also the birthday of Mrs. Kirkland, who took care of me and my brother as children when our parents were at work -- a surrogate grandmother, really. Both of them are gone now but they always come to mind on this day.
This is my only picture of Mrs. Kirkland. I took it with my Magimatic camera in 1974 or so. She hated having her picture taken, so she held her paper bag of needlework (crocheting, probably) in front of her face.