Easter eggs and pastel-colored flowers at the corner shops are a reminder that spring is here. It has been more than four months since the layoff, and I've entered a period of feeling angry and cynical about it all.
I realize I should be thankful that I have this swim instructor job, but I am frustrated. Half of the kids I taught today shied away from me, shaking their heads, screaming "No" at the top of their lungs, when I tried to coax them into the water. I did dolphin dives, red light-green light, and Simon Says, and even sang “the ring around a rosy.” In the end, I felt like I was losing my voice and my spirit.
My supervisor is quiet, mellow, very observant. He seems to be testing me, letting me handle the classes on my own. When he closes the door to his office, I am certain he can hear me squawking loud and clear.
Yesterday, I spent time with a really smart six-year-old, the daughter of a friend of a friend. I was rushing like a madwoman, just to be sure that I picked her up from school on time. If I ever become a mother, I am sure I would lose the child or forget him at the supermarket.
Talking with the little girl was taxing, and I found myself unable to keep track of what she was saying. (I mean, what was she saying?) Hippos. Penguins. A wish list of things she wanted for her birthday.
At one point during lunch, I watched her carefully. In one instant, she focuses her attention on a table of screaming children. In the next, she’s asking questions about their plates of uneaten fries. Children are easily distracted. I realized that she and I have a lot in common.
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